Dirty Sexy Saint (Dirty Sexy #1)(15)
“It’s not a problem,” the other woman said with a wave of her hand, though her pretty green eyes brimmed with undeniable interest. “Though I have to say, I’ve never known Clay to let a woman spend the night here, let alone have one move in so quickly.”
Samantha felt a warm blush sweep across her cheeks, even though the smile Katrina gave her was light and teasing. She had no idea what, exactly, Clay had told the other woman about their arrangement or how she’d ended up in his apartment in the first place. As soon as he’d informed Samantha that he wasn’t about to let her do something she’d regret after that hot, scorching kiss they’d shared, he’d pushed her away, muttered something about calling Katrina from his office downstairs at the bar, then he’d stalked out of the small apartment.
He’d left her sitting on the table, all alone with too many thoughts running through her head. Mainly, about how she’d never, ever experienced such raw passion before. And the things he’d said to her afterward, about not being soft and gentle and sweet, well, even now her stomach clenched tight thinking about all those wicked things Clay had said he wanted to do to her. He’d meant to scare her off, but instead, he’d ignited a desire inside of her that she wanted him to satisfy. No other man would do after the hot, lustful way he’d claimed her mouth and made her body burn with need.
“My staying here is temporary,” Samantha replied to Katrina’s comment as she picked up her purse from the couch. “Until I can make some money and figure out a few things.” Which she hoped would only take a few weeks, tops.
Katrina’s gaze traveled from the designer bag in Samantha’s hand up to her face. There was no judgment in her eyes, just curiosity, so Samantha was hopeful that the other woman thought the handbag was a knock-off. She didn’t want her old life interfering with her new one, which meant the Louis Vuitton had to go, because the last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself.
Samantha followed the other woman out a different side door and down a flight of wooden stairs to a small parking area. From what she could remember of last night, the other door in the apartment led directly to the bar downstairs, so Clay lived conveniently above the bar.
Katrina pressed the remote in her hand, and an alarm disengaged on a cute Volkswagen Beetle in a bright iridescent purple as funky as its owner, and which matched the plum-hued highlights tinting the edges of Katrina’s blonde, wavy hair, as well as the shimmering polish on her nails.
Katrina was pretty, but there was a tough edge about her, from the way she walked to her overall appearance—a don’t mess with me vibe that Samantha both admired and respected. The other woman wore tight black jeans, leather lace-up boots with a spiked heel, and a black tank top that showcased the colorful sleeve of tattoos covering her left arm and traveling up the side of her neck. The ink looked like dozens of exotic butterflies taking flight along her skin. It was a beautiful piece of art and unlike anything Samantha had ever seen on a woman before.
Then again, the ladies and friends in her social circle didn’t mar their perfect skin with permanent ink. Her own mother, upon seeing a girl with a few tattoos at the grocery store, had whispered to Samantha that only heathens and trashy people got tattoos, that they were disgusting and degrading. Samantha had always felt differently, had even secretly wanted a tattoo of her own, but hadn’t dared to follow through on the urge because she knew the consequences from her parents would have been severe.
That was the old Samantha, the classic good girl who always worried about disappointing her mother and father. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth when she thought about all the rules she’d already broken in less than a day, and just how good it felt to be bad for a change. Especially when it came to Clay.
Once they were both settled into the small and surprisingly comfy car, Katrina glanced at Samantha as she turned the key in the ignition. “Clay said you’ll be working as a bar waitress at Kincaid’s, so you’ll need some jeans and comfortable shoes, right?”
Samantha nodded, trying to read Katrina’s tone, but the woman was really good at keeping her true thoughts concealed. So, she tried to explain. “I know this whole situation, with me staying with Clay and working at the bar, must look odd to you—”
“Oh, it’s not odd at all,” Katrina interrupted before she could finish, a small smile on her lips as she shrugged. “It’s what Saint Clay does. He takes care of people.”
Samantha frowned. Saint Clay? She tried to make sense of the nickname and wondered how it related to the gruff man she’d met, but before she could question Katrina, the other woman spoke.
“We’d better get moving.” She put the car in reverse to back it out of the parking spot. “I have two hours before Mason expects me back at the shop, though honestly, he can kiss my ass for making that demand, considering I am the manager of the place and not his personal slave.”
Samantha couldn’t stop the grin that appeared as the other woman pulled into traffic. Oh, yeah, she liked Katrina. A lot. The girl obviously had no qualms about saying it like it was or refusing to take crap from anyone.
“Mason is Clay’s brother, right?” Samantha asked.
“He’s one of Clay’s brothers, yes,” Katrina said as she slipped a pair of sunglasses on her face. “There’s also Levi, who’s the youngest of the three.”