Reaper's Property(10)

Not part of the plan.

I got out of the car and looked around cautiously but didn’t see anyone. Nobody near the table, nobody in the folding chairs I’d set out in the newly cleared lawn area (I couldn’t call it a lawn in good conscience). What the hell?

I walked cautiously to the front door, clutching my cell phone like a weapon. What I planned to do with it I wasn’t sure, because if a murderer was waiting inside I wouldn’t exactly have time to call for help. I debated getting back in my car and driving away, but part of me wondered if Horse had come back. You know which part—that little nub between my legs, the bitch. The door swung open at a touch and I found Horse sitting at my counter, texting, all muscular and tattooed and incredibly hot.

I opened my mouth then snapped it shut.

“You need to get better locks,” Horse said casually. “It took me about ten seconds to get in here.”

I shook my head, looking around the room, although I had no idea what I was looking for. Some kind of magical leprechaun to jump out and explain what the hell was going on?

“I’m here to see Jeff,” he said, setting down his phone. “He’s got something for me. Where is he?”

“He’s off with some girl,” I replied, still dazed. “Her name is Krissy, he said he’d be late. I’ll try calling him.”

He watched as I dialed Jeff. Straight to voicemail. I sent a text, hoping he was just busy and didn’t want to answer. More nothing. I looked at Horse and shrugged.

“I don’t think his phone is on,” I said. “I can let him know you came by though.”

Horse gave a short, harsh laugh that had nothing to do with humor.

“I rode three and a half hours to see him,” he replied. “He knew I was coming.”

I smiled weakly.

“Um, you know he’s a great guy, but he smokes out a lot and can be kind of forgetful…”

Horse narrowed his eyes.

“I’ll wait.”

I didn’t know how to deal with that, so I decided to put away the ice cream. Then my stomach growled audibly. I’d planned on eating a sandwich, but it felt weird not to offer him something.

“You want an omelet?” I asked, figuring everyone loves breakfast for dinner.

“Sounds good,” he replied. “Beer?”

“Um, yeah,” I said, opening the fridge. I was kind of surprised he hadn’t just helped himself, considering he’d already broken into the place. I handed him a bottle and started on the omelet. I’d made some cinnamon rolls last week and froze half of them, so I pulled those out too, along with a frozen thing of orange juice concentrate.

I glanced up to watch him taking a long pull on his bottle, eyes following me, throat muscles working as he swallowed. I could lick right from that little dip at the base of his throat up to his jawline…

Maybe not juice, I decided. Now I needed a beer.

Horse just watched me as I cooked, not saying anything, which creeped me out and turned me on at the same time.

“What kind of work are you guys doing with Jeff?” I asked.

“That’s club business,” he replied. “Don’t ask questions like that, you’ll get yourself in trouble.”

Noted. So much for conversation.

The omelet was done and I’d microwaved the rolls, so I dished up for both of us, thinking of my movie wistfully. I didn’t get to watch movies very often and it wasn’t like I’d invited Horse over. But I had the feeling he might not be quite as into Johnny Depp as me. Should I bring it up? He decided for me, sitting down on the couch and grabbing the remote.

“You coming?”

“Um, yeah,” I replied, following him into the living room. I planned on taking the armchair, but he patted the couch next to him with an air of challenge.

Never could resist a challenge.

He clicked through channels, stopping on another one of those fights with the big cage. I sighed and decided I wouldn’t share my ice cream with him.

“You don’t like MMA?” he asked, taking a bite of his cinnamon roll.

“Not really,” I replied, leaning back into the cushions.

He nodded.

“Lotta chicks don’t,” he replied. “But a lot do. All those sweaty bodies, you know?”

He glanced over at me, the slightest trace of humor in his eyes, and I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or not. I decided to just go to my room and eat there, but he reached out a hand to catch my arm, stopping me.

“What’s the problem?”

“I’m tired,” I said. “And I know you have business with Jeff and I’m really sorry he flaked on you, but I don’t have the energy for this.”

“This?”