River Wolf(29)

If he was awake... She turned, but a hand touched her arm and the pop of static electricity burned. She yanked her arm away and rubbed at the skin. “Ouch.”

“My apologies.” But he sounded more intrigued than sorry. Or maybe it was wishful thinking on her part, because his remote expression didn’t match his tone. Mr. Mixed Signal didn’t want to be her host anymore than she wanted to be there. So why make her stay? “Let’s eat and talk. You’re uncomfortable because we’re strangers.”

“One meal doesn’t cure us from being strangers.” She folded her arms and met him glare for glare. Fine, he’d shown his hand in as much as he wanted her to stay. Why remained the big question? Her desire to know frustrated her nearly as much as their insistence she stay. All the oxygen seemed to back up into her lungs the longer she stared into his eyes, so she looked at the mottling of scars instead. Burns. Bad ones from the way his skin still puckered at the hairline—had he lost his hair at some point? The jagged cut didn’t blunt the beauty in his glorious mass of darkness.

“No, it won’t. So we’ll have at least two today and see what we can do.” He straightened and collected the plates. “The dining room is through there.”

Charles finished preparing two more plates and smiled. “Excellent. Margie will be thrilled you chose to join us.” The two men strode out of the kitchen and left Colby alone.

She hadn’t agreed to stay, had she?

Glancing over her shoulder, she stared at the doorway they’d disappeared through. Had she driven Luc into the damn Twilight Zone? If she stuck around long enough, would she find out she had a pig snout? Scrubbing a hand over her face, she debated her options. She really needed her keys or a cop.

They’d left her with the landline. She could call 911 and end the whole farce. Ending up a mystery—not that anyone would look for her, she’d burned all those bridges at home—was the last thing she wanted. Still, he’d invited her to eat with his parents. His father fixed the food. Whole families weren’t serial killers, were they?

“Are you coming?” The quiet question startled her, and she swallowed a scream.

Heart racing, she pivoted to face Brett. A lock of hair fell onto his forehead, softening his angry expression. Contradiction upon contradiction dog piled into their interaction, yet… “Why do you want me to stay?”

“I told you. Luc asked me to make sure you were here when he woke.” It resonated with truth for her. She had a good bullshit meter most of the time. Considering her choices of the last couple of years, she couldn’t really be certain of it anymore. “What bothers you more? That we’re asking you to stay or the fact that you want to?”

What an asshole. “You’re a piece of work.”

“I could say the same about you.” A faint smile curved his mouth and he seemed unperturbed by her irritation. “You drove a complete stranger several hours away from anyone you know. Luc’s a charmer, and a complete pain in the ass—and a good friend. You couldn’t know that. We don’t know you. But he wants you here, so…I’m not gonna kidnap you and make you stay. If you want to go…” He released her keys with a toss and she caught them. “Go. I’d prefer it if you stayed, however.”

He began to withdraw, then paused. “Are you going?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. Your steak looks good and if you’re not staying, I’m eating it. If you want it, be at the table in the next sixty seconds or it’s fair game.” With that he left her once more and Colby gaped for a moment, then snapped her mouth shut.

Giving her the keys returned the decision to her hands. Go or stay?

Luc’s a charmer, and a complete pain in the ass—and a good friend. Everything in his manner softened on those four words. Whoever and whatever else Brett Dalton was, he cared about Luc. Cared enough to be honest with her and to ask her to stay.

“Five seconds,” Brett called.

“Brett Michael, if you touch Colby’s food…” His mother had apparently joined them and at her tone, so utterly maternal and filled with remonstration, Colby grinned.

A drive in the rain or a steak dinner with the man of contradictions? “I’m coming.”

The steak swayed her decision. Sure it did. Ignoring her conscience, she took a sip of her coffee and stuffed her keys in her pocket. She could always leave afterward.







With a second to spare, she abandoned her indecision in the kitchen and took a seat at the table. Had it been only the two of them, Brett would have eaten in the kitchen. His parents, however, liked to sit around a table. The mixture of curiosity and aggravation deepened the headier notes of Colby’s scent when her gaze landed on his mother. Despite her shower or maybe because of it, the oddness he tasted in her scent lingered against his tongue. Though not unpleasant, it kept his attention riveted on her rather than his food. Aware of his parents, he systematically cut into his food and divided his attention equally amongst his guests.