Page 17 of Omega's Forbidden Heat
“Don’t you have a spare one hidden somewhere?”
“Not since they broke into the shed and stole half my dad’s business tools.”
“Finn—”
“Won’t be home until tonight. Shit!”
He rubs his knuckles against the stubble peppering his chin. He doesn’t want to invite her to his house and for a moment a thought crosses his mind that this is all a ruse. Frowning, he says, “Can’t you go hang out at the stables until he gets back?”
She pulls a face.
“What? You used to spend every waking minute of your life up there when you were a kid. Have you fallen out of love with that horse of yours?”
“What, Maddock? Never! He’s still my one true love.” She grins and a strange stab of jealousy hits him in the chest.
“Then, what’s the problem?”
She rolls her neck as if she’s reluctant to tell him. “It’s not such a welcoming place these days,” she mutters.
His spine stiffens. “Right.”
She glances at him and smiles. “Sara was always a stuck-up bitch, Jack. Now she’s found a reason to get at me. In fact, she’d quite like a reason to kick me and Maddock out of the stables altogether but she hasn’t found it yet.”
“You mean because of the Omega thing?”
She nods and he grinds his molars.
“So just leave,” he tells her.
She breathes in, lifting her rib cage and plunging her hands into her tight jean pockets to look for the key a second time. “Everywhere else is too expensive.”
“You shouldn’t let people treat you like that, Amy?”
“And what do you advise I do about it?” She scowls at him. “Hit them?”
He takes a step away, as if she’s struck him, and the air sucks from his lungs. He opens his mouth to speak but no words come.
She freezes too, and her eyes soften. “Jack, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—”
“It’s fine,” he snaps. Then his shoulders sag. “You’re right. But you don’t have to hit people to stand up for yourself.” It’s one of the things he’s learnt. Half the time you just have to look like you might beat the shit out of them and they’ll leave you the hell alone.
“No shit, Sherlock.” She tugs her hand out with a huff of irritated air. “Crap. No key.”
“How about the utility window?”
She quirks an eyebrow at him. It’s a little window her parents always kept unlocked and it was often their way in and out of the house as kids.
Holding her hands out to the sides and twisting, she looks down at her body.
“I don’t think I’d fit through that window now. I haven’t done it in years.”
The side of his mouth twitches. “Yeah you will, you’re still tiny. You’ve hardly grown a bit.”
“Yes,” she says, spinning around, “but I have a few additions now.”
He swallows a groan. Yes, he’d noticed those.
“You can still fit. I’ll give you a bunk up.”
