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She jerked away before I could. “You take this side of the room, and I’ll take the other.”
“On it.”
They’d sprayed up the club good. There were holes everywhere, and plenty of work to be done. I squeezed the thick white paste onto the spatula and slapped it over the first hole, filling it in and smoothing off the excess.
We both worked in complete, stony silence, until it drew out so long I couldn’t stand it anymore. “You know we’re going to have to talk about this, right? About who might have done it.”
“I think we both know there’s only one person who has it in for me right now.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You think William Reed, middle-aged, church-going Christian and mayoral candidate drove by your club and sprayed it with bullets?”
“You don’t?”
“I don’t think the man knows one end of a gun from the other.”
“Maybe not. But it doesn’t take much to pay one of the Sinners or some other gangbanger to do the job for him, does it?”
She had a point. “We’ll be checking cameras. We’ll get the plates of whoever did this.”
She shook her head. “What cameras? Nobody on the strip can afford surveillance. And even if they could, you think they’re going to willingly hand over footage to the cops? You know that’s not how things roll around here. If there’s even a hint of a gang being involved, any recordings will disappear. Nobody wants that sort of blowback.”
My first instinct was to argue with her. To say that going through all the legal channels was the right thing to do, and that we’d take care of any pushback from the gangs. But I stopped mid-sentence, because would we? Would we really be there to support her, day in and day out?
The answer was a big fat no. She’d get shoved to the back of the line, her worries and complaints put into the Saint View basket that was conveniently ignored until someone needed a scapegoat.
I went quiet, silently filling holes, while swearing to do better. If William had even so much as sniffed in her direction, I’d find out about it.
Across the room, Eve filled holes at twice the speed I did. Her spatula slapped and scraped against the wall as she moved from one hole to the next, working with jerky, stiff movements. I couldn’t help watching her. She filled them methodically, pulling a chair around with her to stand on when the holes were higher than she could reach by standing on her toes. Every time she lifted her arms, her robe rose as well, flashing me her ass and the lacy panties she wore beneath. Her thighs were smooth and perfect, deeply tanned, and every time I caught a flash of lace, my dick twitched, wanting more of that action.
God, she was so beautiful. No matter what she was doing. I just wanted to storm across the room and run my hands up her legs, familiarizing myself with every inch of them before getting to the treasure at the top. It was a physical ache to keep my feet planted to the floor.
Eve glanced my way from the top of the chair and scowled. “What are you doing? You’re taking forever.” She inspected my work from her perch. “You’re using too much. You need to scrape it right back around the edges otherwise we’ll be sanding for hours. Haven’t you patched a hole before?”
I looked over the work I’d done and realized she was right. It was lumpy and clumsy. I’d filled plenty of holes with this stuff. I’d flipped a whole house a few years ago with my dad and a couple of old college buddies. My dad would have had a heart attack over the work I’d just completed.
But I’d never had to patch holes with Eve Hawkins across the room. She was all I could think about. The lure to cross the room and kiss her until she shut up became an overwhelming need.
Eve wasn’t even giving me a chance to explain. She continued her rant, not letting me get a word in.
“Seriously, Boston. If you aren’t going to do it properly, don’t bother at all. It just makes more work for me in the long run, and as you can see by the state of this place, I’m in for a very long day. Just stop now if you’re not going to try—”
Irritation prickled down my spine. I was trying! She was just that damn distracting, and the more she told me off, the more I wanted her. “Seriously? I’m here helping you after being awake for twenty-four hours—”
She shoved her hands on her hips, which only made her robe rise higher. “Oh, cry me a river. I never asked for your help—”
My patience snapped. “Eve! For fuck’s sake, shut up! I’m doing the best I can, but you’re up on a fucking chair, in your goddamn underwear, and I can barely think straight for how bad I want you right now. So take your foot off my balls already!” I slapped another huge chunk of filler onto the wall. Half of it fell straight back off, and I swore beneath my breath while I stooped to pick it up.
Eve’s gaze burned my back.
“Boston.”
“What?” I snapped, turning around.
She was quiet, all the bossy arrogance from a second ago gone. Our gazes collided. Heat flared in hers, and surprise lit up my chest, forcing my breaths to quicken.
The tension in the air around us thickened, neither of us making a move but something almost tangible sparking to life between us. On feet that seemed to have a mind of their own, I crossed the room, stopping in front of the chair she stood on, and let my gaze travel up her body. Her shapely calves and thighs. The indent of her waist where she had the belt of her robe tied in a bow. It swung in my face, taunting me, tempting me to pull it.
Eve didn’t stop me when I did.
