“The TV? Mona probably didn’t keep up on the cable bill.” What sounded like the remote dropped onto the coffee table. “I have cable at my place. HBO. Starz. Just saying.”

There was a knot in my throat as I faced him. “How . . . how much do I owe you for the windshield.”

“Nothing.”

“I need to pay you for that. It’s not the same thing as you getting me fast food. I’m not that broke. I can pay—”

“I didn’t pay for it.” He ran his fingers through his hair as he eyed me. “Like I said, the guy—his name’s Brent—owed me a favor. He took care of the windshield. No charge.”

“He owed you a favor?” I repeated dumbly. “Are you, like, in the mob?”

He tipped his head back and let out a deep, rumbling laugh that caused my tummy to twist. “No.”

I liked his laugh.

Inching away from the window, I suddenly felt . . . I didn’t know how I felt. Relieved? Tense? Stunned? I felt all those things at once, but I knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Thank you.”

One broad shoulder rose. “It’s no big deal.”

“It is.”

A moment passed. “You tired?”

No. I was wired, so antsy I felt like my bones and muscles were going to come out of my skin, but I lied and said yes, because I didn’t think I could be in the same room with him any longer. There was a burning behind my eyes I needed to get under control.

His eyes met mine for a second, and then he dropped down on the couch. He didn’t say anything else as I walked over to the small linen closet and pulled out the other blanket I’d seen earlier. I walked over, placing it on the arm of the couch farthest from him.

“By the way . . .” Jax gave me that half grin that caused my toes to curl inside my socks when I twisted toward him. “Those shorts and those legs? Fucking perfection.”

Flipping onto my back, I stared with wide eyes. Several of the thin panels in the blinds covering the window in the bedroom were broken, so slim slices of moonlight spread like fingers playing peekaboo across the ceiling.

I tossed and turned for what felt like hours, unable to shut my brain down. Each time I moved, the bed creaked a little. Or maybe a lot. It sounded superloud to me, but so did my heart as it pounded blood through my ears.

Jax was lying on the couch, mere feet away from the bedroom. And he’d kissed me earlier. And he’d gotten my windshield fixed. And he’d said my legs and my shorts were fucking perfection.

What was up with his fascination with my legs?

Flopping onto my stomach, I groaned into the pillow. My legs shouldn’t matter. It obviously wasn’t important, but I was fixated on how it was my legs he kept focusing on. There were other things about me, more noticeable things like my face that got attention. Not my legs.