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  He took a forkful of the casserole, chewed, then swallowed. “I’ll pass. This is really good. There’s spinach in here?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Eggs, sausage, along with mushrooms, Gruyère and Parmesan cheeses and garlic.”

  He could have eaten the entire casserole himself. In fact, he went for a second helping.

  “Now I’m glad my brothers aren’t here.”

  “Why?”

  “More food for me.”

  She smiled. “I’m so happy you like it.”

  He leaned back in the chair. “So now that you’re out of your shop, what’s next for you?”

  She laid her napkin on the table. “I have some appointments set up today to look at storefronts to rent for my business.”

  “That’s good.”

  “I appreciate you letting me stay here. I promise not to take advantage. Obviously getting my business back up and running is my first priority. As soon as I can get that going, my next job will be to find a new place to live.”

  She rattled that off as if he’d busted in here demanding she pack up and get out tomorrow. Having been homeless and fostered before, he knew the feeling of being unsettled, of feeling like you didn’t belong.

  It sucked.

  “Becks, the bedroom’s yours for as long as you need it.”

  He caught the way her shoulders dropped, as if she’d been tight with tension.

  “Thanks. But still, I’ll try to get this done as soon as possible.”

  “Get what done?”

  Kal came in, Rafe a few steps behind him.

  “Hey, who cooked?” Rafe asked.

  “Becks did.”

  “No kidding? It smells amazing.” Kal grabbed a plate from the cabinet and brought it to the table, then scooped some of the casserole onto it.

  Jackson frowned. “Didn’t you just eat?”

  “Yeah. So? This looks great.”

  Jackson shook his head, then got up and started clearing his and Becks’s plates from the table.

  Becks went over to the kitchen and started cleaning dishes.

  “Stop,” he said. “You cooked. I’ll clean up.”

  “I’m just earning my keep here,” she said, taking the plates from him to load them in the dishwasher. “By the way, I can pay rent while I’m here. Though I don’t intend to stay long. Like I said earlier, as soon as I find a new shop, I’ll look for a place to live.”

  He picked up a pot but she wrested it away from him.

  “I said I’ve got this,” she said.

  He pulled the pot away from her, then looked down at her. “If you’re going to live with us, you need to learn the rules of the house. Everyone shares duties. From grocery shopping to cooking to cleaning. No one person does it all. Got it?”

  She swiped her hands on the towel. “I was trying to be helpful.”

  “Don’t try so hard.”

  She shrugged. “Whatever. Fine. I’ll get out of the way.”

  She left the kitchen.

  “The casserole is great, Becks,” Kal said, hollering after her as she left the room.

  Kal brought his plate and some of the dishes to the sink.

  Rafe had been leaning against the island. He stared at Jackson, who was putting away the pot he’d just washed and dried.

  “What?”

  “What’s your beef with her, man?” Rafe asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Then why do you have to act like such a dick? She was just being nice.”

  “Yeah,” Kal said as he finished loading the dishwasher and closed it. “Plus, she cooks. Better than you or Rafe.”

  Kal shook his head and left the room.

  Rafe looked at him. “True that. And you were harsh with her for no good reason. Or do you have a good reason for being uncomfortable with her being here?”

  “No. I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t know her.”

  Rafe slanted a look at him. “Or maybe you’ve just conveniently forgotten who we all used to be back then. There were more than just the three of us, Jackson.”

  Rafe pushed off the island and left the room, leaving Jackson alone in the kitchen.

  Jackson shook his head. Rafe didn’t know what he was talking about. He knew exactly who he was then. Who they all were. He just didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to constantly relive every damn minute, week, month and year of their lousy existence.

  Why should he, when life now was pretty great? All he ever wanted to do was forget about the life they’d lived back then. Was that so bad?

  He looked around the kitchen, thinking about everything Becks had done for them this morning.

  She could have just come here, tossed down her shit and crashed. She could have been gone this morning when he’d gotten here, off to do her own thing. For herself.

  Instead, she’d grocery shopped. Cooked. Served him breakfast.

  She didn’t really know them, either. She knew who they used to be, but not who they were now. Other than the guys inviting her to stay with them, for all she knew they were a trio of total assholes now.

  But she’d still cooked them breakfast. Paid for out of her own coin.

  He folded the towel and draped it over the sink.

  Okay, fine. Maybe he really was acting like a dick.

  He went looking for her and found her in the laundry room, transferring clothes from the washing machine to the dryer.

  “Hey, Becks.”

  She adjusted the setting on the dryer and pushed the button. “What.”

  “I’m sorry for being such an asshole just now.”

  She kept her focus on her task, pulling clothes out of the nearby basket to fold them. “It’s fine. I know you don’t want me here.”

  “That’s not it.”

  She straightened and gave him a direct look. “Then what is it?”

  He floundered for an answer, so he let his gaze drift to the empty trash bag. “Is that your luggage?”

  She frowned. “What?”

  He pointed to the small empty trash bag at her feet. “That bag.”

  “Oh. Yeah, sort of.”

  He looked around, but other than what she was pulling out of the dryer and what she’d just shoved in the washer, he didn’t see anything else. “Where’s the rest of your clothes?”

  “I did a load yesterday. This is the last of it.”

  He blinked. “That’s it?”

  She looked at the trash bag and then up at him. “I travel light.”

  “I thought most women had deep closets filled with all kinds of clothes.”

  Her lips curved and she leaned into him. He inhaled the sweet scent of strawberries.

  “I’m not most women, Jackson.”

  She skirted around him and walked away. He enjoyed the view of her incredibly sexy long legs and one very fine ass.

  She was right about that—she was definitely not at all like most women.

  CHAPTER 5

  Becks had spent two days searching for commercial space for her tattoo shop. Everything she’d looked at so far had been either too small, the wrong location or too expensive.

  She was starting to feel like Goldilocks. When she’d found the original spot it had been a decent fit. Not perfect, but she knew she’d never find perfect. All she wanted was a decent traffic location where she could pick up some walk-ins from the beach, someplace that had parking for her customers and was in a good area so her clients wouldn’t feel like they’d get jumped late at night.

  That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

  So as she pulled up in the shopping center to check out the latest location, she hoped this one was the right one.

  She got out of her truck to check out her surroundings. It was hot as bejesus, a bright sunny day so she kept her sunglasses on. />
  This place wasn’t on the beach, which wasn’t great. But it had potential. There were other businesses surrounding it. She wandered up and down the center to see an insurance office, a bail bondsman—okay, not awesome, as she realized the police station and county jail were just down the road. She made a mental note of that. She also saw a jewelry store, one closed shop, a craft store and a hair salon on the south side. Anchored in the middle was a grocery store, which meant good foot traffic. As she wandered toward the north side she noticed a fire engine pulling in.

  Uh-oh. She felt a sense of déjà vu. She glanced around for smoke or a fire or, God forbid, someone sick or injured but didn’t see anything. She really hoped no one was hurt.

  When the engine pulled up next to her, she saw Jackson in the passenger seat.

  She hadn’t seen much of him—or the other guys—in the past couple of days. She’d tried her best to not be around while they were, instead either keeping to her room or staying out shopping around for a commercial rental.

  He rolled the window down.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Rafe saw you wandering. You checking a place out in this center?”

  “I am.”

  Rafe leaned over. “Hey, Becks.”

  “Hey. Are you all doing something in this area?”

  “We just worked a car wreck a few blocks over,” Rafe said. “We were headed back to the station when we decided to stop for groceries and happened to see you. But we have a few minutes to help you check out a place.”

  “Oh. That’s unnecessary.”

  Rafe looked to Jackson, who shrugged. “Sure, we can help you.”

  She had no idea what they thought they’d be looking at, but she supposed a second or third opinion wouldn’t hurt.

  “Sure.”

  She headed down the path toward the available building, not wanting to miss her appointment with her friend Margie who worked in commercial real estate rentals. She was so thankful she had Margie to help her find a new place.

  So when she walked up to Margie Vasquez with her two-man firefighter escort, the woman’s eyes widened.

  “Uh, hi, Becks.”

  “Hey.”

  Margie motioned her head to the two hot men dressed in firefighter blue behind her, as if Becks didn’t know they were there. Or that they were hot.

  Not that Becks thought they looked hot or anything.

  Oh, who was she kidding?

  She tossed her thumb over her shoulder. “Margie, this is Jackson on my left and Rafe on my right. Guys, this is my friend Margie Vasquez.”

  Margie was a very attractive brunette with soulful brown eyes and a rocking curvy body. Men always gravitated to her because she had a killer smile to go with her dynamite rack and amazing legs. She was also one of the few people Becks trusted enough to call a friend.

  Margie graced the guys with one of those smiles. “Nice to meet all of you. Shall we go inside?”

  “Sure,” Rafe said, leveling one of his own smiles in Margie’s direction.

  Jackson nodded and held the door as they walked in.

  Margie hurried up next to Becks.

  “Oh. My. God.” Margie gave her the look. The one she gave her whenever one of them spotted an unbelievably good-looking guy, typically at a bar.

  “I kind of know them from before.”

  “Before what?” Margie whispered.

  Since both the guys were within earshot, she said, “I’ll tell you later.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.” Margie turned so she faced all of them. “This is a nice-sized shop with a good front window to attract customers, plus excellent storage in the back and enough space for you to do your work and even hire additional help if you’re interested.”

  Becks pictured her reception area in the front. She didn’t hire any staff since she was a one-woman operation, but she kept a table in the front to give the appearance of having someone run the administrative operation of her business. Typically she kept a planner there to write down walk-in appointments she made that she couldn’t fulfill that day. Then she’d move those appointments into her phone calendar once she got home. Plus she kept all her paper and sketching stuff at the desk because walk-ins often wanted the opportunity to draw their tattoo ideas.

  Behind that she needed a room for her chair and the client’s chair and an area to move. And then storage.

  “The space is decent,” she said. “But I don’t know, Margie. The feel is off.”

  “The lighting is crap,” Rafe said. “This place looks like it hasn’t been updated in ages.”

  Jackson nodded, then crouched down to check out the wiring that ran along the baseboard. He pulled out his voltage detector.

  He straightened. “Wire’s frayed across here. And it’s a live current. It’s a fire hazard.”

  “I had no idea,” Margie said. “I’m sorry, Becks. I would never show you a space that wasn’t up to par.”

  “I know you wouldn’t.”

  “I’ll notify the owner of the space,” Margie said. “And I’ll let him know the fire department was here to inspect it.”

  “Oh, we’ll let him know, too,” Rafe said.

  “Good. He should know better than to offer up shoddy property. Believe me, I’ll make it known around my circle as well. This guy owns several properties, so my associates and I will be doing more careful inspections of his spaces.”

  “Anytime you want us to take a look, just let us know,” Jackson said.

  Margie looked surprised. “Thank you, Jackson. That’s very nice.”

  “We don’t mind at all,” Rafe said. “Saves us from having to put a fire out later. And possibly saves lives.”

  Becks thought it was so nice that Jackson offered to check over the properties. Then again, like Rafe said, if it prevented fires breaking out, then it benefited everyone.

  “Okay, so a big fat no on this property,” Margie said. “Sorry, Becks.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “I’ll keep looking for you. Hopefully I’ll have more places you can check out this afternoon.”

  “That would be great. Thanks.”

  She turned to walk out, but Margie grabbed her hand. “Oh, and that thing we need to discuss?”

  Becks frowned. “What thing?”

  “You know.”

  Margie absolutely failed at trying to be subtle when she motioned with her eyes and her head toward Jackson and Rafe, which totally mortified her.

  Then again, her friend had never learned the use of subtlety.

  “Oh. Right. Sure. I’ll text you later.”

  “You’d better.”

  She hugged Margie, then walked out, Jackson and Rafe behind her.

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you,” Rafe said.

  Becks shrugged. “Thanks. Something will come along. I’m looking every day.”

  “What was the thing Margie was referring to that had to do with Rafe and me?”

  Jackson had to ask, didn’t he? Becks wasn’t big on subtlety, either, so she figured she’d just blurt it out.

  “She thinks you’re both hot and she wants the lowdown on how I know both of you. Since it’s kind of a long story, I told her I’d fill her in later.”

  Rafe laughed. “Awesome. She thinks we’re hot, huh?”

  Jackson rolled his eyes. “Come on, Romeo, time to join the rest of the crew at the grocery store.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Later, Becks.”

  “Later, Rafe. See you, Jackson.”

  He gave her a nod and what one might call a partial smile. She didn’t know. Did the guy ever smile?

  “Bye, Becks.”

  She had to find a place soon. The guys had been generous in letting her stay at their place, but she didn’t want to take advantage. Which reminded
her, she needed to discuss paying rent. Because she wasn’t a freeloader.

  Jackson’s gaze lingered on hers, questioningly. She wondered why. Maybe he was thinking she was taking advantage of her current living situation. God, she hoped not.

  But finally he turned around and walked away. She exhaled, though she didn’t know if she’d held her breath because he was hot and he made her nervous, or because she didn’t want him to think the wrong thing about her motivations. Likely a combination of both.

  She had to wait there and watch them walk away, but admittedly, it was only Jackson’s butt she stared at.

  CHAPTER 6

  Jackson wandered the grocery store after they caught up with the rest of the team. He’d gone up and down three aisles before he figured out he’d missed six items because his mind had been on Becks and not on the grocery list.

  Damn.

  He could still see that worried look on her face right before they’d left her. What was she worried about? He could guess that it had something to do with finding a place for her business. That was logical. She’d been displaced, forced out not only from her home but also from making her living. That would scare anyone.

  But was it also something more?

  He shook it off and checked the list, making himself pay attention to the aisle he was in. He tossed pancake mix into the cart.

  What the hell did it even matter if she was upset about something? Becks wasn’t his responsibility. She was just someone staying at their house for a short—very short—period of time. He shouldn’t even care about her.

  Except there was something about the way she’d looked at him. It had been almost . . . a plea.

  But a plea for what? For help? For understanding?

  What the fuck. She’d probably just shot him a Go Fuck Yourself look and all this was in his head. Because in the short time he’d known Becks, the last thing she seemed to need from anyone was help.

  The best thing to do was forget about her and focus on groceries. He whipped around the corner to find Rafe and the other guys all piled up in—of course—the cereal aisle.

  He shook his head. “You can’t live on Rice Krispies and Cocoa Puffs.”

  Rafe arched a brow. “Maybe you can’t. But we could. As long as there’s also mac ’n’ cheese.”