He nodded, still staring at me intently. The way his green eyes were looking at me triggered a memory. A low, masculine voice murmuring, I've been looking for you my whole life... I shook my head to clear it and glared at him. "How do I know you're not that guy?" "Oh, please," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I don't have to force a girl to sleep with me." He leaned back against a butcher's block and crossed his arms across his impressive chest, studying me with his head tilted to the side. The muscles in his arms bunched. "Thank you," I said quietly, but I was still suspicious. When you grew up in a rough area, suspicion came naturally to you, and I was no different. "I don't remember anything from last night." "You were drunk," he provided. "I think I remember that part." "And you're not hung over?" I shook my head no. "Amazing," he said, sounding impressed. "Look, if you don't mind giving my shoes back I can get out of your way." "Not so fast." "What?" A lamp sat on a table five feet away that I could use in case he decided to grab me. "You threw up all over my car and I just got it a few weeks ago." Oh. I bit my lip. "Isn't your dad rich?" I gestured to the room uselessly, at the luxury around us. "Can't you just have somebody clean it for you?" His eyebrows shot up. "So you're going to have someone else clean up your mess?" I clenched my teeth. "What do you want from me?" He jumped on the counter and sat on it, his full glorious body displayed for me. I gulped. At least he was wearing sweat pants. "Do you have anywhere to go when you leave my place?" There was a basket filled with apples on the counter beside him. He reached for one. How fortunate was he to reach for food whenever he wanted. He didn't have to fear going hungry... or homeless. "What kind of question is that? I'm going home." Where was home I had no clue, but he didn't know that. He threw the apple in the air, caught it, threw it up again. "And where is that?" I felt my stomach quietly growl from hunger. "It's none of your business." "Well, I saved your life. I believe in conserving energy so I just want to make sure you don't waste mine. I asked you last night where you live and you told me you're homeless. Frankly, right now you look like someone just stole your last dollar." My mouth opened in shock. "You heard me," he stated, placing the apple back in the basket and crossing his arms again. Was he flexing in front of me? "Why do you care?" I demanded. It was a moment before he answered. "Do you really have somewhere to go?" The mild and sympathetic tone did it. I felt my eyes tear up. I could tell he was uncomfortable with my display. He jumped off the counter and went to open the fridge. "Here," he said quietly, handing me a bottled water. I tried to say thank you but I felt choked up. When I looked up, he was backing away from me. "You know that you stink, right?" I laughed. I laughed so hard that I needed to sit on the floor to prevent from falling on my face. And then I started crying. He must think I was insane. "Why don't you stay here for a bit until you find an apartment?" Shocked, I could only stare up at him. He shrugged. "I know when someone is at the end of their rope." At the end of their rope? I glared up at him. I hate looking up at someone when I talk to them so I got back on my feet. He was still taller. It made me angrier. "Listen, pal, I may be homeless but I am not accepting your charity." "Where else will you go? A homeless shelter? Listen." He raised a finger to my face. "One, I live by myself so you'll only have the pleasure of my company. Two," he raised a second finger, "you're certainly safer here because you have me to protect you. And three," he raised a third finger, "ding, ding, ding! You can stay here for free." I narrowed my eyes. It all sounded too good to be true. "Why are you helping me?" Life had beaten me enough that I knew nothing came free. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Then he shook his head. "I don't know." Live with Caleb Lockhart. In this huge place. For free. That or go to the shelter or live on the streets. "I'm not going to be your prostitute." He looked insulted. "Woman, a prostitute is what I won't ever need. Have you seen this body? Do you really think I need one? Besides," he added, grinning, "when you decide to sleep with me, you'll be the one paying me."