The knocking turned to pounding, like she was trying to break the door down.
"Come on, Coyote, we need to talk!"
He shut his eyes and prayed she'd take the hint and leave. He wasn't in the mood, not tonight, not after what happened last night.
Then, silence. For a moment, he dared to believe she'd given up.
He was wrong.
His phone rang, Gwen's name flashing on the screen. He declined the call. Seconds later, he spotted her standing outside his glass window. She pulled a lipstick from her bag and scribbled something across the glass.
Coyote stepped closer to read it:
"If you don't open the door so we can talk, I'll sleep on your doorstep in this cold night."
A frustrated groan escaped his lips. She was impossible, but he couldn't leave her out there all night. His conscience wouldn't let him.
He got up and opened the door. "Gwen, what do you want?"
Gwen, already lying dramatically on his doormat, stood up with a triumphant smile. "I knew you were in there."
Coyote sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "What do you want? Just tell me what the hell you want."
She met his gaze. "Let me inside and I'll tell you."
He shook his head firmly. "No. You can tell me anything you need to say right here."
"Coyote, you're not being kind to me right now, and it's hurting my feelings. Why are you acting this way?" She reached for his face, but he leaned away before she could touch him.
"You know why," he said flatly. "I don't want what happened last night to happen again. Gwen, I'll tell you one more time, I'll only ever see you as my sister. Nothing more. Get that into your head."
Her smile vanished. A single tear rolled down her cheek. It cut straight through Coyote's defenses.
"You don't know what you're talking about," she whispered. "I'm sure if you let me in and we talk about it, you'll see things differently."
"No. I won't," he said, turning his eyes away. He wanted to cave, those tears always hit him, but the memory of last night hardened his resolve again.
Seeing that her usual tricks weren't working, Gwen stepped in closer. She slowly undid the top two buttons of her blouse, exposing the soft swell of her cleavage.
"Do you really want me to leave?" she asked, voice low and sultry, knowing exactly how to aim at his weakness.
Coyote's eyes dropped against his will. For a second, he was frozen, his thoughts tangled and his body responding before he could stop it. He felt the heat rising, a twitch in his pants, his body betraying his better judgment.
No. Not again.
Without a word, he turned and walked back inside, grabbed a duffle bag from the closet, stuffed it with clothes, and marched toward the door. Gwen had followed him in by then.
"You can stay as long as you want," he said coldly, "but I won't be here."
She moved to block him, but he sidestepped her, pushed past, and left.
By the time she reached the curb, he was already slipping into the backseat of a cab. He didn't look back.
Inside the cab, he considered calling Jax, asking to crash for the night—but remembered Jax would probably be with his girlfriend.
"Take me to Hardwick Inn," Coyote told the driver.
The man nodded and drove off.
As they neared the inn, he remembered he hadn't read Maya's text and took out his phone to read it.
"Let's meet tomorrow afternoon to talk about your health issues and only that. You tell me the time and place and I'll be there."
Coyote couldn't help it—he smiled.
—---
—----
"Maya, what has gotten into you? You're typing on your phone and blushing—I've never seen you do that before. And please don't burn the house down because you're so focused on your screen," said a handsome, effeminate guy in his early twenties, seated at the dining table in a tiny space that doubled as a kitchen, dining room, and sitting area. The apartment was cramped, every inch doing double duty.
Maya finished typing, hit send, and set her phone aside before turning her attention back to the simmering pasta sauce on the stove. "Sorry, Himesh. I got distracted for a minute there."
"Distracted by who? Don't tell me it's that guy from yesterday," Himesh said, his tone teasing.
Maya smiled. "Yes, it is. He has some health-related issues that need my attention."
Himesh let out a loud, incredulous laugh. "Seriously, cousin? Do you actually believe that?"
Maya didn't answer. Her back stayed turned as she stirred the sauce, choosing silence over argument.
"Maya Devi Patel, don't tell me you actually believe that shit. He definitely just wants to get in your pants. That's what all men want—well, except me. I want to get in their pants, if you know what I mean," Himesh added with a wink.
Himesh wasn't just Maya's cousin—he was also her gay best friend and roommate, who happens to be a freelance photographer.
Though he rarely contributed his full share of the rent, Maya never minded picking up the slack. After her parents' deaths, Himesh had always been there for her. And when his own family kicked him out at sixteen for being gay, it was Maya who took him in, in her small apartment.
He is one of those photographers who fancied himself an artist with a camera—more of a tortured soul capturing truth, as he liked to say, than just a guy who gets paid to take pictures. Which explained why he was perpetually broke.
"I know what you mean," Maya said, casting a knowing glance his way. "With all the guys coming in and out of here, I definitely know what you mean. But I don't think this guy is like that. I just… I have a good feeling about him."
She turned off the stove and gave the sauce one last stir before setting it aside.
"Man! I would love to see the guy who's making you feel this way. He must be very handsome," Himesh said, already helping himself to a generous serving of pasta and sauce.
"He is very handsome. I've never seen such piercing green eyes in my life," Maya said, her cheeks going crimson at the memory.
Himesh's eyes widened. "Really! Green eyes?"
"Yeah, I got lost in them a couple of times in the ambulance last night," she said softly.
"Wow! I would totally want to take pictures of him. Do you think he'd be up for a photo shoot?" Himesh asked eagerly.
Maya hesitated. A quiet alarm bell rang in her mind. The last two men she'd liked who agreed to Himesh's photo shoots had ended up falling for him instead. She wasn't about to let that happen again.
"If he ever needs a photo shoot, I'll let you know," she replied diplomatically, then sat down at the table with him just as her phone pinged.
It was a message from Coyote.
I would love us to meet at Moretti's, 2 p.m. tomorrow, if that's okay with you?
A slow smile spread across her face. She knew the restaurant well.
She quickly typed back: See you there, Coyote.
Then she hit send, tucked her phone away, and picked up her fork, her cheeks still warm as she dug into her food.