Annie and I are eating burgers and fries in the bed of my truck, watching the sun set over the compound. I don’t think I’ve ever had a more romantic night, which says a lot about my recent dating life.

  I grin as I dip my burger in a little to-go cup of ketchup. “Aronowicz is a fucking mouthful,” I tell her. “And when all my friends were getting into drugs and petty criminal shit, taking on street names like Cobra and Slash, the last thing I wanted was to be called Josh.” I chuckle. “It was kind of a play on words. Straight as an arrow. I hung with some rough kids, but I kept my nose clean.”

  “Is that how you ended up a PI?” Annie’s sitting cross-legged, her maxi dress tucked around her knees. Her hair is loose, and the rosy-gold light of the setting sun lights up her eyes and smile. She’s fucking gorgeous even with a mouthful of hand-cut fries and a smudge of mustard on the corner of her mouth. She licks it away and then continues, “Hanging with the bad kids?”

  “Pretty much. I wasn’t involved in their shit, but I was no rat. I ended up being the kid everybody else called when they got wasted and were stuck someplace. I think I bailed out my first buddy before I could even drive.”

  Annie frowns at that. “What about your parents?” she asks. “How did you have money for bail?”

  I suck in a breath through my nose and sigh. “I had a shit family,” I admit. “No other way to slice it. I had an old man who left after I was born, and Mom was…” I shrug. “Short version is I grew up fast. I was working for cash in local diners, doing dishes and hauling boxes. Anything anybody would pay me to do, I did. I met a lot of shitheads doing work like that. I knew I couldn’t get into trouble. I was one wrong look away from my ma kicking my ass to the curb or getting myself thrown in a group home.” I pause to take a sip of my Coke and another bite of my burger.

  Annie’s face looks troubled, and she shifts her weight a little like she’s trying to get comfortable, but she ends up scooting a little closer to me.

  “So that’s that,” I say. “I’ve pretty much raised myself since I was twelve. I kept out of trouble, saved my money, and ran with a crowd of people who were in similar circumstances. When the time came to move out of my ma’s house, I knew there was no college in my future. And I didn’t have white-collar aspirations. I like being out on the streets, doing shit. Making things happen.”

  “But, Josh,” she says, sounding sad. “What about, like, holidays, love, and family? Did you have girlfriends who took you in?”

  I nod. “Sometimes, yeah. And don’t get me wrong. I have friends. I just spent a lot of time around people who had lives as rough or even worse than I had it. When we all got older and guys I’d known since I was fourteen got busted for harder shit, real crimes, I looked into how to make a living doing what I was basically already doing for free.” I polish off my meal and stuff my trash in the takeout bag. “Thought about becoming a lawyer for a while,” I admit, surprised that I am sharing this with her. I lower my voice, a weird mix of embarrassment and pride tightening my gut. “That’s something I’ve never told anyone before.”

  “Yeah?” She’s stopped eating, holding the burger in her hand and her eyes wide. “What stopped you?”

  I rub my fingers together in the universal sign for money. “I had no way to pay for college, so making it all the way through law school seemed impossible. I didn’t want to be a cop,” I say. “No disrespect to the boys in blue, but…” I shrug. “I never wanted to cuff the bad guys. I could relate to them, and I thought I’d be helping if I made it possible for them to get another chance.”

  She swallows, and I watch the long column of her pretty throat as the last shadows darken into night around us.

  “For a while, I was a bond agent. Making sure guys showed up to their court appearances, fulfilled their duty. It was a way I could use the trust I had from guys like me who’d gone the wrong way to help them either stay out of prison, or, if that was what was in the cards, I made sure they didn’t become fugitives. But that’s rough work, and the pay—” I don’t really want to go into the subject of money at the moment, considering the fact that I’m hurting for it and Annie doesn’t exactly have a trust fund either. “So, I moved into PI work a year ago. I chase a lot of cheating spouses and insurance fraud cases, but it’s a living.”

  She looks troubled, and I want to kiss the frown that pulls on her lips. “What’s your dream, Josh? If you could do anything, education and money not being in the way, what would you do?”

  That’s a question I haven’t thought about for a long, long time. I take a minute to really consider it.

  “I want a family,” I tell her. “You know when those guys were calling you old lady? That’s what the bikers call their wives. Their bitches, their old ladies, their women. Talk like that doesn’t fly in every circle, but here?” I motion toward the compound, now bathed in darkness. A few lights reflect in the windows, but most of the building is dark. “I’d like that. Guys who are like brothers to me. Guys who I can call in good times. Not just in bad. An old lady to come home to. I don’t really give a shit what I do for work. I work hard, and I want to make money and support myself. I never want to lean on anybody else. But how I earn it?” I shrug. “I could be a butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker. I don’t give a fuck. It’s what I come home to after doing that shit all day that matters.”

  Annie is quiet. Not chewing, not smiling. Just thinking.

  “Thank you for being honest,” she says. “I’m glad to know the real you. Not just the answers you think a client would want to hear.”

  “You’re not exactly a client, babe,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “And all that shit I said doesn’t mean I won’t tear a new asshole in the fucknut who’s been sending these letters when we find out who’s doing this. Just because I said I don’t care what I do doesn’t mean I don’t care about the work I am doing.”

  “Oh no, I get that.” Annie quietly rolls her trash into a ball and tucks it neatly into the carryout bag. “And thank you. I don’t know what I would be doing right now without you.”

  I reach out my hand and snag her trash, then step onto the bumper and over the side of the truck. I take her hand and help her over the side, then lace my fingers through hers. “Is now a good time to tell me about your dad?” I ask. “Why won’t you go home, Annie?”

  She sighs as we head toward the compound hand in hand. It doesn’t feel like an act. It feels so natural. Like this is how it always has been. Always will be. It’s a feeling that I don’t want to end.

  “Well, like I told you, Dad’s been struggling over the last year. I thought maybe he was hiding a health issue or something. He broke up with Cathy. Started spending a lot more time at the office. Just generally seemed different, if you know what I mean. And then this summer, things got really weird. He sent me off to school on short notice. Basically, he pushed me out of working for him.”

  She swings our hands lightly and I have to tuck the trash under my arm so I can dig in my pocket for the keys to the compound. There’s no way I’m letting her go.

  “It may sound weird, but I feel like Dad has something big going on, and I guess maybe I’m afraid,” she admits. “If Dad has cancer or something really serious, God, I just… I’m only twenty-five, Josh. I lost my mom so young. I’m not ready to face losing him. I want to be there for him, of course, but he doesn’t want that right now. He’s made it clear he wants some distance, if anything. Maybe he’s trying to get me ready for the day he won’t be here. Giving me a chance to figure out my life and my art. So that when the day comes that I wake up and I’m all alone in this world, I didn’t waste the opportunities he gave me. Even if part of the cost for that means us spending a little less time together.”

  I unlock the door, let Annie through, then lock the dead bolt behind us. Finding the trashcan in the kitchen, I ditch our carryout, then turn to face her.

  “You’ll never be alone, Annie.” It’s not a vow or a promise. It’s a fact. “You’re beautiful and so damn sweet. You’re light, pure light. Maybe your father knows he can’t be everything you need in your life. Maybe he wants to give you time to shine.”

  She nods, but she looks so lost and sad, I want to lift her face and kiss her until she feels nothing but bliss. Nothing but me.

  But that’s not cool. I don’t know how far I think I can take this fake-dating situation, but I’d better put some distance between us because I’m in danger with Annie Hancock. I’m in danger of falling.

  “Think the showers are gross?” she asks, a small smile on her face. “I’d love to clean up before bed.”

  “I think we should find out,” I say.

  We head toward our room, where we unpacked our clothes before we ran out for those burgers. The compound is quiet tonight. I can hear a TV in the distance, Tiny’s voice, and a couple of the other guys cheering over a game. It’s homey here in a way that surprises me. I can see why my buddy Leo, Tiny’s son-in-law, decided to prospect into the Disciples. They stopped being a gang, running on the wrong side of the law, not too long ago. Now, it’s really a club here. A home and family. Who knows. Maybe when all this shit blows over, I’ll learn to ride.

  Belonging someplace has to start with people you want to belong with. And Annie’s making me see all kinds of possibilities.

  My hair is still damp, and I’ve thrown on a loose tee and some boxer briefs to sleep in. I normally sleep in nothing but the skin I was born in, but I don’t think Annie needs to see my business the first night we’re sharing the same room.

  While I wait for Annie to finish in the shower, I drag an extra blanket from the closet onto the floor and take one of the two pillows from the bed and drop it on the blanket. I stretch out on the floor and check out the small TV Crow’s got in his room. It’s not huge, but the compound has every possible streaming service, so by the time Annie opens the door, I’ve got some choices lined up.

  “What are thinking, babe?” I call out before she closes the door. “Horror? Thriller? Movie? Show?”

  She’s clutching a small pink-striped bag in front of her chest. She looks from me to the TV and then back to me. “What’s this? What are you doing?” She pads on bare feet over to a dresser and sets her little bag on top. “Josh?” she asks, her voice soft. “Why are you on the floor?”

  I sit upright and smooth back my hair. “I want you to be comfortable,” I say. “Did you expect something different?”

  She gives me an uncertain smile, and for the first time, I notice what she’s wearing. The most freaking adorable button-down top. It’s turquoise blue and has pink and orange cupcakes on it, but the thing I love the most is how thin the fabric is. I can make out the hard tips of her nipples through the cotton. And her sleep shorts… Fuck, they give new meaning to the word short. They barely cover anything, and if she turns, which I am begging the angels in the sky above that she will, I’ll get more than an eyeful of Annie’s delicious ass.

  “I thought we’d share this,” she says, motioning toward the bed. “It’s big enough, and I don’t snore.”

  My cock stiffens at the thought of sleeping anywhere close to Annie. Her long, smooth legs under the sheets. That perfect ass just inches away from my hands. I don’t know if this is such a good idea. I mean, it’s a fucking great idea. I want nothing more from life right now than to slide into bed beside Annie Hancock. But whether I can stop myself from treating her like she really is mine… That’s something I can’t promise.

  “Are you sure?” I ask, my voice nearly cracking. “You’re all right with this?”

  “I’ll feel safer,” she says, not a single note of doubt in her voice. “Please?”

  She doesn’t have to ask me twice. I grab the pillow from the floor and toss it back onto the bed. Then I pick up the blanket and drape it at the foot. “Lady’s choice,” I say, tugging back the sheet and the light quilt on the bed. “Which side?”

  “Underneath you?” she says, meeting my eyes.

  A bolt of heat hits my cock at her words, and I groan. “Annie,” I breathe.

  “I want you to hold me,” she says. “Will you do that?”

  Ah. Okay. I got it. She wants the closeness and the safety. While all I can think about is stripping off those shorts and bouncing my hand off her tight ass until she’s dripping, begging me for more, she wants the teddy bear. When it comes to Annie, I will take what I can get.

  “Yeah,” I grunt, hoping against fucking hope that I can get under the covers before my raging boner gives her a reason to change her mind. “Come here, baby.”

  She flips off the light switch by the door and turns the lock before she climbs into bed beside me. I lift my arm, and she nestles against my chest. I point the clicker at the TV and hope my dick won’t tent the goddamn sheets. Or if it does, at least I hope she won’t notice.

  “This one?” I whisper, my voice thick. I can smell the sweetness radiating off her skin. Whether it’s lotion or soap or, God, just her, I’m going nuts trying to keep my hands to myself. I grip the remote and stare straight ahead. “Or this?”

  I’m flipping channels like it’s my job when Annie sighs and rests a hand on my belly. “You pick,” she says. “I’m so wiped, I just want to listen and not think.”

  She’s tired, not horny.

  Not attracted to me.

  That’s all right. I can fucking take this. I pick an action movie that I’ve seen before. Something with a lot of flashing lights, blood, and very little plot. I give the movie a sliver of my attention, but it’s something to stare at while I try to ignore the gentle movements of Annie’s body against mine. Her long hair is damp and soft, and I can’t fucking help myself. While her face is against my chest, I stroke my fingers across her forehead, push her hair back, and gently massage the back of her neck.

  “Ooh,” she moans. “Ohh, that’s nice.” She lightly strokes my chest with her fingers while I knead her tight muscles. “I can’t believe it’s only been two days,” she says. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

  I know the feeling. But I can’t say anything. I don’t know what to say. I don’t care if I’ve known her two days, two hours, or two years. Annie is everything I’m into. And I want so badly to be inside her.

  “Josh?” She suddenly sits up, cocking her head to the side. “Would you do something for me?”

  I bark a laugh. “Yeah, babe. I’ll do whatever you want.” Except move the goddamn sheet from my lap.

  She kneels on the bed facing me, her eyes excited. “Your tattoos. I want to see all of them.”

  Oh fuck.

  “I’ve got ’em everywhere, Annie. Back, arms, and…”

  “And?” She grins, her brows lifting.

  I shake my head. “Annie, I did some stupid shit when I was younger. Nothing illegal, right? But…”

  “Is your penis tattooed?” she asks, but she doesn’t sound scandalized.

  Right now, I wish my dick had ink because I would love nothing more than to show it to her. But no, my dick is just the way I was born with it. “No,” I say, “but my ass cheeks are.”

  She claps her hands and practically bounces on the bed. “I need to see,” she begs. “Seriously, you can’t tell me your ass is tattooed and then not show me.”

  “I can’t just show you my ass, Annie.” I shake my head. “Seriously, I’ve got some major low-class ink back there, babe. I just…”

  But then she moves her fingers to the top button of her pajama top. She slowly unbuttons just the first one. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” she says.

  “You have a tattoo?”

  A deep pink flush covers her cheeks. “I want to see your ass, Josh.”

  “All right. First, top half.” I work my arms through the sleeves of my tee and toss the fabric onto the floor. She leans close and inspects my ink.

  “Tasteful,” she says, nodding, the long strands of her hair covering her nipples. “Sexy, even.”

  I have to bite back a smile. “You think I’m sexy.” It’s more of a statement than a question as I rake a hand through my hair. “Well, this is going to change your mind fast.”

  She claps her hands as I climb off the bed. “Show me your booty,” she chants again.

  I start cracking up as I slip my fingertips under the waistband of my briefs and face the wall. “Now, you promised,” I remind her, “if I show you mine, you’ll show me yours.”

  “Oh yeah,” she says, giggling. “A deal’s a deal.”

  I tug the right side of my briefs down, sighing dramatically. Normally the first time a woman sees my ass is after we’ve been intimate. By then, I’m past the worry that my tattoo is going to be the reason she doesn’t let me into her pants.

  But if Annie’s going to show me hers, I’m biting the bullet. I shove down just enough of my briefs to reveal my entire right cheek.

  “Whoa,” she gasps. I hear her move across the bed, and then I feel the gentle pressure of her fingertips lightly tracing the design.

  Fuck me.

  I grit my teeth together to hold back a groan as the blood fires through my cock like a freaking cannon.

  She’s exploring the wildly colorful design in silence until she finally asks, “So, I can tell it’s a crown…” She sounds apologetic.

  “It’s all right,” I say, “I know it’s the most shit-looking crown ever.” I mean, Jesus. I’m showing this thing to an actual artist. I tug the fabric back over my ass and give my dick a minute to cool itself down before turning back to her and climbing back in bed.

  Her giggle is back. “What exactly does it mean?”

  I yank back the blanket and slide into bed, hopefully before she sees I’ve got an erection as tall as Tiny is wide.

  “My buddy Anthony thought it was clever. He was practicing with his first gun. I was his first human canvas.”

  “Josh…” Her fingers touch the space over my heart, stroking the light hairs that dust my still-bare chest. “Why the crown?”

  I groan and close my eyes, dropping my head back against the wall behind the bed. “That I’m an ass king,” I blurt out. “I’ve always had a thing for a great behind.”