That stung a little, as he only had about a dozen years on her. But he didn’t relent.
“You could have a blowout, end up wrecked. I’ll make you the best deal I can, but you’ve got to replace these. I can have them on for you tomorrow, before noon, and I can run you over to work. I’ve got a couple of takeouts waiting anyway. Can you get a ride home?”
Resigned, Maxie blew out a breath. “I can just walk over to Lisa’s, stay there tonight.”
Risking being compared to her father again, Xander shook his head. “No walking alone after closing. Not right now.”
“Everybody thinks whoever killed Marla is long gone. Just some horrible pervert passing through.”
“I’ll make you a deal. You get the tires at my cost, and you make this deal with me. No walking alone after closing.”
“All right, all right. I’ll get my dad to pick me up.” When Xander narrowed his eyes on her face, she rolled hers. “I promise.” She swiped a finger over her heart.
“Okay.” He got the spare helmet, handed it to her. “You break the deal, I charge you double for the tires.”
“Oh, Xander.” But she laughed and got on the bike behind him. “A deal’s a deal, and at least I get a cool ride to work out of it.”
By the time he got to the big house, all he wanted was to sit out on the deck with Naomi, maybe have a beer. And let the entire day shed like dead skin.
By the time he’d unstrapped the takeout, Tag had raced around from the back of the house to greet him as though he’d been off to war.
Appreciating the welcome, he held the food up out of reach with one hand, gave the dog a rub with the other. And when the tennis ball landed at his feet, he gave it a good boot to send Tag joyfully after it.
He noted that Naomi’s car sat alone, and wondered why Kevin hadn’t waited. Even with the delay, he’d expected Kevin to hang tight until he got there.
He walked around the back, stopping long enough to give the ball another kick.
She sat on the deck alone, working on her tablet, with a glass of wine on the little table beside the glider.
“Got hung up,” he said.
She only nodded, kept doing whatever she was doing.
“I’m going to grab a beer, put this in the oven on low.”
“That’s fine.”
He didn’t consider himself particularly sensitive to moodsat least, he’d been told by annoyed women he lacked that insightbut he knew when something was off.
In his experience, the best way to handle things when something was off, and you didn’t know what, was to just keep going until whatever was off popped out.
Sometimes, if luck held, it just went away.
He came back with his beer, sat beside her, shot out his legs. And Jesus, didn’t that feel good?
“Where’s Kev?”
“At home with his wife and kids, I imagine.”
“I figured he’d hang out until I got here.”
“I insisted he go home. I don’t need a bodyguard.”
It didn’t take Mr. Sensitivity to recognize a bitchy mood when it snapped its teeth at him. He took a pull on his beer, let it ride.
The silence lasted maybe twenty seconds.
“I don’t like the two of you arranging shifts. I’m not an idiot, and I’m not incapable.”
“I never thought of you as either one.”
“Then stop hovering, and stop asking Kevin to hover. It’s not only insulting, it’s annoying.”
“Looks like you’ll have to be insulted and annoyed.”
“You can’t decide for me.”
“Marla’s body, about thirty-five feet straight down from where you’re sitting, says I can.”
“No one dictates to me, and if you think sleeping with me gives you that right, you’re very wrong.”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the dog slink down the stepslooking, Xander imagined, for a safe spot out of the line of fire.
“That’s bullshit. It’s even weak bullshit. You can either tell me what crawled up your ass since this morning or not, but I know when somebody’s looking to pick a fight. I’m not in the mood for one, but that can change.”
“You’re crowding me, it’s as simple as that.” She pushed off the glider, picked up her wine, set down the tablet. “I bought this place because I like being alone, and now I never am.” She took a long drink from the glass, which he’d bet a week’s profits wasn’t her first of the evening.
“Yeah, that could change. If you’re trying to give me the boot, then be straight about it.”
“I need some space.”
“And clichés like that are more weak bullshit. You can do better.”