Page 39 of Rain or Shine

My stomach flips the second he’s around. Like right now, when he walks back into the room and hands me a towel.

Our fingers brush, and I swear the air is electric. It needles my skin and has my heart thrumming. Shane keeps hold of the towel a moment longer than he needs to. Is it ridiculous to think it’s because he can’t deny this energy between us either?

Maybe I’m making this up. Shane is doing me a favor, not looking for attachments.

I’ve been where he is, hopping around from one place to the next with no real plans to stay anywhere. Sometimes I wish I still was—that I never came back. As much as I love my family, I miss the girl I was on the road. One who could forget what she was running from.

I miss taking life one day at a time, not barely surviving the pressure like I am now.

“I’m sorry about tonight.” I look up at Shane, clutching the towel to my chest.

He’s standing so close my neck has to arch so I can meet his gaze. His dark eyes are endless, even deeper with only moonlight casting a cool glow through the window. Undeniably intense.

“Are you seriously apologizing for someone trapping you in that fire?”

My throat tightens with the reminder of what might have happened if he hadn’t shown up. “No, not that. But Zander⁠—”

“Shouldn’t be talking to you like he does. And he sure as hell shouldn’t touch you like he does.”

My belly swims at the protective edge to his tone. “Either way, you already have enough trouble around town. Being seen with me will do nothing but cause more issues between you and Zander. It won’t solve any of your problems.”

“Zander was already a problem long before tonight, Harloe. Long before I ever came to Texas. That’s not on you.” Shane shifts closer, but then, as if he thinks better of it, he takes a step back. “It’s like you said, if anything, tonight might help my reputation in Lanceleaf. You make me look good.”

My nose scrunches. “That might have been a bit of an overexaggeration.”

“Doubt it. I’ve seen how people view you.”

“That’s only because of my family. They love my brothers. They tolerate me,” I say flatly.

“I think you underestimate yourself.”

I wait for him to start laughing. For him to tell me it’s a joke. But his face is stone-cold serious.

“You really don’t mind that I lied tonight and called you my boyfriend?” My eyebrows pinch. “I can only imagine what people are saying. I bet somewhere someone is already assuming I’m moving in with you now.”

“Then do it. At least until you figure something else out. We’ve got the space, and like you said, I could use all the help I can get with the locals. Maybe you can give me some tips. Make me look good for a minute.”

“What are you proposing exactly?” My eyebrow quirks. “That I move in here, and we let them think we’re dating?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, considering it. “What if we did? We both know they’re going to talk either way. There’s no stopping it. We could fight the current or go with it. The club’s struggling to get a foothold with everything Zander and the city council keep throwing at us. We need the community on our side if the club is gonna make this permanent. Your brothers are on board, along with a few of their friends. They can’t be the only ones willing to bend if we show them we aren’t a threat.”

I consider what my father said about restoring balance in town. How he didn’t see the bikers the same way the city council does. He believes some of the locals have become a problem and that we might finally have a chance to restore some balance. If he feels that way, there must be others who agree.

“You help us with our reputation around town, and you can crash at the bunkhouse as long as you need.”

“Zander will lose his shit,” I warn him.

“I’ll deal with Zander.” Shane’s teeth grit, but I can’t tell if he’s being protective or just pissed at Zander constantly getting in his club’s way.

“So that’s it then? I help you with the locals, and you give me a place to crash. No other strings.” My gaze flits to his bed, my eyebrow hitching.

He chuckles, following my gaze, and I hate that my belly spins. That it makes me wish there were all sorts of strings and that he’d pull me down onto his bed right now.

“You’re fucking trouble, Harloe Harrison” is all he says, not answering my question.

“And yet, you want my help.”

“You started it.” He smirks.