River Wolf(28)

The older man flipping steaks glanced at her with a grin. “My food has that affect on people. Pour yourself some coffee and take a seat. How do you like your coffee?”

Brett leaned on the opposite counter, his tense expression and folded arms radiating stay away. At his father’s words—was Charles really his father?—he straightened and crossed to the coffee pot. “Do you take cream or sugar in your coffee?”

He didn’t look like his dad. Hell, they looked roughly the same age except for the vague touch of silver at the man’s temples. Course, the silver could be a trick of the light. Mom only looks a few years older than me, too. Good Korean genes. “I’ll pass, but thank you for the kind offer. I just need to grab my keys, and I’ll be on my way.” Perfect delivery on her part, smooth and without any added aggravation in her voice. Two points to me.

Frowning, Brett shook his head. “You need to eat. You’re hungry. And the shower helped, but you’re still tired.” Gruff didn’t begin to cover it.

Not to mention… “I wasn’t asking for permission and, while I do appreciate the offer, I really need to be getting on with the rest of my life.” And maybe dart upstairs and get Luc to sign an agreement that Colby wasn’t responsible for any wounds or injuries incurred during his trip. A little legal CYA never hurt anyone, right?

“Actually, Miss Jensen...it is Jensen yes?” Charles interrupted

“Yes, sir.” She tacked the last on as an afterthought. He was older than her, and he wasn’t holding her keys hostage. What was his full name again? “Mr. Dalton, I think breakfast smells terrific and I appreciate the offer, really I do…”

“You’re staying.” Brett said, setting a coffee cup onto the counter next to her. He nudged two containers to her and added a spoon. “Cream and sugar are here.”

“Dude, I don’t even know you. I did Luc a favor.” Hand extended, she curled her fingers. “Please give me my keys. It’s time for me to go.”

Clearing his throat, Charles turned his steaks over on the grill. “Miss Jensen, please ignore my son. He’s grumpy when his work is interrupted, and he’s forgotten how to behave around guests. We would like you to stay because the doctor wants to talk to you specifically, and my wife, who is a nurse, will want to discuss Luc’s condition as well.”

When she opened her mouth to protest, Charles raised a finger and she swallowed the harsh words. Bad choices aside, her mother hadn’t raised her to be rude to her elders, even if the guy didn’t look more than a decade her senior—if that.

“I’ve made plenty of food and we realize the imposition on your time. You will be compensated for it and I’m sure Luc would be upset if we let you leave before he has a chance to say goodbye and pay you what he owes.” While he spoke, Charles loaded a plate with scrambled eggs, fried potatoes with what looked like onions and maybe some peppers. “We tend to favor our steaks on the rare side, you?”

“Medium rare,” was the automatic answer. Her mother preferred to cook everything well done, but she’d always liked her meat bloody. The medium rare response let her split the difference, though frankly her mother tended more toward medium and barely glanced at rare. “Mr. Dalton, I’m sorry if this is rude. I can get a room up the road and stick around a day or so, but I don’t feel comfortable…”

While he said nothing to interrupt his father, Brett’s presence continued to loom over her even though he’d returned to leaning against the far counter. The weight of his regard pressed in and left her feeling exposed.

“Colby.” How did he do that? Say her name and seem to sum up everything about her in two syllables. Shivers raced over her skin. “It would be rude to ask you to stay at a hotel, the house is more than large enough to host you and Luc asked me to make sure you stayed. Everything else aside, the man is hurting and he wants you here. Tell me what I can do to make it more comfortable for you.”

Well. Fuck. At the mental slip, she flicked her fingers to roll the word back. At home, she’d have to drop a dollar in the curse jar. Course, I’m not at home. Brett’s gaze went to her fingers, but he didn’t comment or question. Somehow, she doubted he missed much. The dark eyes were downright dangerous and dreamy all in one. Dreamy? Not dreamy. Imperious. Bossy. Commanding. Not dreamy.

Looking away, however, proved easier in theory than in practice. “That’s not exactly fair. Luc was unconscious when we got here.”

“Yes, he was. He woke in the room.”