Page 48 of Snow

Nova grinned. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to enter your statement into evidence should you ever try to deny it.”

Snow shook his head. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re a lot more dangerous with words than I am with a rifle.”

Nova’s smile turned mischievous. “Lucky for you, I only fire when provoked.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I’d rather not find myself in your crosshairs.”

“But back to your question, I didn’t get a warm and fuzzy vibe from him. I felt as if he were playing a role. You know, friendly on the outside, but hiding something calculating underneath. And that whole thing about us being lucky to have the floor to ourselves is total bullshit.”

Snow nodded, relieved she saw it too. “I agree.”

They held each other’s gaze for a moment, then Nova’s lips twitched.

“So,” she said, gesturing to the room. “Should we set some roommate rules?”

“Roommate rules?” his brows furrowed.

Nova smirked. “Yep. Rule number one, keep the room tidy. That includes no leaving clothes on the floor. Rule number two,” she glanced at the coffee maker sitting on the mini fridge. “First one up makes a pot of coffee. Rule number three: no stinking up the bathroom. If you have to go number two, use another bathroom. Rule number four: if I start talking in my sleep, anything you hear is protected by attorney-client privilege.”

Snow folded his arms across his chest as she rattled off her list with all the seriousness of a judge delivering a court order. The longer she went, the harder it became to keep a straight face. But when she declared that “number two” belonged in any bathroom but theirs, the corners of his mouth had given up the fight entirely.

This woman was completely captivating. From the beginning, he had expected a polished corporate attorney who’d be buttoned-up, all business, humorless, and armed with enough legal jargon to put an insomniac to sleep. Instead, he had gotten a woman who nicknamed suspicious people, negotiated coffee rights like an international treaty, and considered bathroom etiquette worthy of its own official clause.

What he respected most about her was that she wasn’t trying to impress him. She was just being herself—quick-witted, unapologetically quirky, and far more entertaining than he had ever expected.

By the time she reached the attorney-client privilege clause, he was openly grinning.

And the crazy part was that he didn’t mind following every last one of them. In fact, if this was what sharing a room with Nova Hart was going to be like, the week had suddenly become a whole lot more interesting.

Once she was finished, he smiled. “Noted. And if you snore—”

“I don’t snore,” she interrupted, laughing. “I sleep like a perfectly silent angel. Well, besides the occasional talking-in-your-sleep thing I mentioned.”

Before he could respond, his phone vibrated, and he pulled it from his pocket. It was a message from Bear checking in.

Bear: How’s life on the floating island of steel?

Snow: Just settling in with my roommate.

Bear: Roommate?

Snow smirked as he typed out his message. The guys were going to have a field day when they heard about the rooming situation.

Snow: I’ll explain when I check in after dinner.

Bear: Copy.

Snow pocketed the phone and looked at Nova, who was now sitting on the bed watching him. She caught his gaze and raised an eyebrow.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Just the guys checking in.”

Snow reached into his duffel and pulled out a tactical knife. He sat on the edge of his cot, lifted his pant leg, and strapped the sheath to his ankle.

Nova watched, her hand covering her mouth but her eyes bright with amusement. A giggle escaped.

“What?” he asked, securing the strap.