And it was nice.
He made her feel pretty, even if the opposite was true.
"So," Derek's gaze strayed to the front of her shirt. "How about I take you out sometime? You can tell me more about yourself over a drink."
Her heart flipped a little. She opened her mouth to answer—but before she could, the air in the office shifted.
"Roma." Kodiak's sharp voice pierced the room.
She turned. He stood near the office, arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched like iron. His dark eyes locked on her, and he refused to let her go.
"Get back to work."
The words landed like a wrench dropped on concrete.
Roma blinked, stinging from the reprimand. "I was just—"
"I'll take care of him."
His gruff tone toward her stiffened her spine. She turned back to Derek, whose eyebrows had lifted in amused surprise. With a smile and a shrug, she said, "Sorry. Duty calls."
Derek chuckled, unbothered. "Another time, maybe."
She sat at the desk, glancing sharply at Kodiak's back as he talked with Derek. He paid her to do a job—one she could handle without him butting in and taking over, which made her look incapable of dealing with the customers.
Derek handed the keys to Kodiak and shook hands before heading out through the garage. Roma hurried over to Kodiak.
"You didn't have to be rude," she said under her breath.
He watched Derek turn the corner with narrowed eyes. When he finally looked at her, his jaw worked like he was biting down on something he didn't want to say.
That's when it hit her. He wasn't doubting her ability to do the job, which she'd proven many times she was capable of doing. Hewasjealous.
Her heart surged.
He didn't like that another man was looking at her or talking to her that way. For once, he didn't see her as Chopper's daughter or the kid he helped raise.
Adrenaline surged, and she wanted to squeal. He saw her as a woman.
She turned away before he could see the smile tug at her lips, heat rising to her cheeks, not from embarrassment, but from a new, powerful kind of hope. Maybe she wasn't invisible to him after all.
Chapter 11
Roma sat in the battered swivel chair, one foot propped on the edge of the desk, rubbing the tatted skin around her wrist where the chain of daisies rested. The petals curled gently against her pulse points, delicate and beautiful. Hunter had done the artwork for her a few months after her dad died—right after the numbness burned off and anger took its place.
Her dad had always told her not to get tattoos. “You're too beautiful. Don't cover it up,” he’d said, even as he sat shirtless and full of inked stories from his past. That contradiction gnawed at her. After he was killed, Roma went to Hunter with a daisy sketch and enough anger bottled up inside of her to go against her father's wishes. Looking back, the tattoos hadn’t been about honoring anything or a remembrance or a story from her past. She was mad at the world, but mostly her dad. Mad at him for dying. Mad at him for leaving her when she still needed him.
A soft thud caught her attention. She looked up.
Kodiak stood in the doorway, towering and quiet. His beard was damp from the mist outside, and in one hand he held a clear plastic cup—cold brew, light caramel swirl, oat milk foam kissed with cinnamon. Her favorite drink from that little place two blocks over with the crooked sign.
He walked in without saying a word and placed the drink on the desk beside her elbow. His hand lingered a half-second too long on the condensation. When he met her eyes, the look he gave her was charged, making the hair on her arms stand up.
Roma stared at the cup, then at him. Her heart ticked faster, but her voice stayed caught in her throat. Kodiak didn’t speak. Didn’t need to.
That look said plenty.
Roma wasn’t naive—not exactly. She knew tension when she felt it, that magnetic buzz that seemed to tighten the air when Kodiak was near. It had been a constant presence in their interactions for months now. The looks. The touches. The coffee orders. The way his shoulder always leaned toward her, even in crowded rooms. She wasn’t imagining it.
