The Hunk Next Door(14)
“I’m the one with dinner baking,” she muttered. She’d been watching his hands with an odd expression, but those blue eyes abruptly locked on to his face.
He looped the towel through the bar on the front of the dishwasher and tucked his hands into his pockets. She tempted him, her dark, snug jeans hugging her curves and her soft gray cable-knit sweater emphasizing the storms in her eyes. “Are you satisfied now?”
She scowled at him. “With what?”
“Your search,” he reminded her. “You were kind of obvious. Whatever you think I am, you’re wrong.” It was one of the few things he could say with absolute certainty.
“You have no idea what I think about you.”
He pushed away from the counter, pleased when she held her ground. Maybe she wasn’t seeing him as a threat after all. “Enlighten me,” he suggested as he covered the plate of cookies.
“I’m still assessing,” she said, reaching for the coat she’d draped over the chair back.
He laughed.
“What’s so funny?” She paused, her hands going still on the second toggle of her coat.
“Sorry.” He held up his hands. “Just the two of us tiptoeing around the facts.”
“Which are?”
“We’re neighbors. The whole welcome thing reminds me of something my mom used to say.”
“Which is?”
“Not really appropriate.” And nonexistent. “Is there anything I could do or say to put you at ease?”
“Tell me what your mom said.”
“Maybe another time.” He grabbed his beer, taking a long pull from the bottle while he watched her.
“You seem legit,” she admitted reluctantly.
“Thanks.” He returned the beer to the counter. “I could raise a little hell if it would make you feel better.”
“I’d feel better if you stayed at one of the long-term hotels like the rest of the crews.”
“Ah. But that’s not happening.”
“What did your mother say?”
He shook his head. She was tenacious, a trait that must serve her well. “It had to do with snooping and gossip, but it doesn’t really apply in this case.”
A telltale blush crept into her cheeks. “Why not?”
“Because you were checking the closets for bodies or stolen goods, right?”
“Maybe.”
He shrugged. “That’s your job,” he replied. “And why should I get offended if I’m not hiding anything.” Not where she could find it, anyway.
She pursed those full, rose-colored lips, pushing his thoughts into dangerous territory. “Coming over here was Mrs. Wilks’s idea.”
“I believe you,” he said with a smile. “And you made the most of the opportunity. Considering recent events, I would’ve been more concerned if you hadn’t taken a look around.”
She pushed back her sleeve and checked her watch. “Still haven’t seen the basement,” she pointed out.
He gave her a mock grimace. “It’s musty and more than a little spooky down there.”
“Then you can go first.”
“That’s a big risk. What’ll you give me in return?”
“If we survive, you mean?”
He nodded, liking this playful side of her. “Let’s assume the positive.”
She checked her watch again. “If we survive, I’ll share dinner at my house.”
“What’s on the menu?”
“What a guy question.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s lasagna—homemade—and more than enough for two.”
“Sounds great. Follow me.” He led her into the hallway and opened the door to the basement. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Just move,” she said at his back.
He hit the switch and the fluorescent light at the bottom of the stairs slowly brightened.
Riley started down, hearing her footsteps on the wooden stairs echo a half beat after his. Reaching the cement floor, he moved aside so she could examine the space.
She hesitated on the last step, studying him closely while she held a brief height advantage.
Wondering how she saw him, he let her look her fill. It gave him time to return the favor. Her wide blue eyes made him hate the threats that had her wary of everyone around her.
He’d done his homework; he knew what she’d looked like before the drug bust. The new, perpetual scowl was a telltale sign of the damage to her confidence. She’d probably always been cautious, but now she didn’t trust anyone. Except maybe Mrs. Wilks.
As she finally moved past him, he caught a whiff of her shampoo again. He cleared his throat. “Storage and laundry to the left—”