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W hat was wrong with him?

He had nothing better to do? There was plenty he could be doing, including making sure that Malina didn’t mess up his menu.

Instead, as soon as she’d gotten to work, he’d headed out with Chip. Hmm, that name was growing on him.

For some reason he’d been unable to sleep last night worrying about Opal and the security light.

So here he was, driving to her place.

He glanced over at her. She was wearing another pair of tight jeans. These ones had a strip of sparkly silver material down the side of each leg.

And damned if he didn’t like that.

Her blonde hair was still teased high, he doubted it moved much with how much hairspray she had to use. And she had on a long-sleeved gray shirt with silver domes and sparkles along the collar.

So yeah, he was replacing her light today because otherwise he might not be able to sleep again tonight. And if he didn’t get his sleep, he turned into a complete asshole.

More than usual.

“Have you always dressed like that?” he asked, needing to break the silence.

But he could tell it was the wrong thing to say when she stiffened.

“Like what? Like a whore?” she asked.

He drove his truck to the side of the road immediately. Luckily, they were on a quiet street and there was no one else around. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he turned to her.

“Who the fuck called you a whore?” he roared.

Opal’s pale blue eyes were wide as she gaped at him, her mouth slightly open. She was wearing a dark purple lipstick today. His favorite was the red one she’d had on last night. But he didn’t have time to linger on her lipstick.

Instead he had someone to murder.

“Well?”

She swallowed.

Stop it, asshole. You’re scaring her.

“You’re scared of me.” He’d meant to phrase it as a question, but it came out sounding like an accusation.

“I . . . what? No, I’m not.”

“No? Then why do you look like you are? Thought I made it clear last night that I’d never hurt you.”

“Well, you did just pull the truck over, unbuckle, and then yell at me.”

“I wasn’t yelling at you,” he explained, seeing where the confusion was. “I was yelling at whoever called you a whore.”

“You were yelling at someone you don’t even know?”

“Well, I’m gonna know them real soon. My fist is gonna know their nose and my knee is gonna know their balls. And then I’m gonna be personally acquainted with their dick when I smash it with my foot.”

“That’s . . . really . . . nice.”

Nice?

That was not the word he’d expected her to say. “I think we established that I’m not nice, girl. Now, tell me who said that so I can go take care of them.”

“But it is nice. It might be the nicest offer I’ve had in a long time. I don’t think anyone has ever offered to do something like that for me.”

He grunted. “Name.”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why the hell not?” he demanded, not liking that.

Did she think he wouldn’t do it? Because he damn well would. He tightened his hands into fists.

“Because it would take you too long to work through the list,” she said quietly.

Those words hit him like a stab to the heart.

What the fuck?

Who was she hanging out with that she had a list of people who would say something like that to her?

“Opal,” he said quietly. He could hear the pain in his voice.

She was staring out the front windscreen. “Heard it for the first time when I was five. It was what some guy called my mama as we were walking along the street. He drove past and yelled it out the car window.”

“Fucking bastard,” he snarled. “Wish I knew who that was.”

“Why?”

“Why?” he asked incredulous. “Because I’d fucking end them.”

“You’re very bloodthirsty, aren’t you? You didn’t even know my mom.”

“Not mad on behalf of your mom,” he told her. “Well, I am. Because no woman should be called that. But I’m fucking furious that you heard some bastard yell that at your mom.”

He was upset for her?

Opal wasn’t used to people getting so upset on her behalf.

“Anyone calls you anything like that, makes you feel bad, hell, gives you a funny look or makes your skin itch and crawl, you tell me.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need anyone to fight my fights. Or replace my security light.”

“Yeah? You don’t get tired of having to do everything yourself?”

Tired?

She was fucking exhausted. All the time. Sometimes it felt like she was more tired when she woke up than she had been when she went to sleep.

But she’d rather be tired than disappointed. To be let down. To be heartbroken.

She’d felt that before

“I’m not sure why you care whether someone insults me,” she told him huffily.

“Hmm. Not sure of that myself. Just know that I do. And I’m not one to ignore my needs.”

“You need to defend me?”

“Seems that I do. And your job is to let me. And, by the way, you’d be gorgeous no matter what you wear. But, baby, those clothes . . . fucking hot.”

The guy was nuts. Gorgeous, sexy, but completely insane.

He started driving toward her place again and for the first time in her life, she really didn’t know what to say.

Was this him trying to get in her pants?

And if he wanted that would she let him? He was gorgeous. And she wouldn’t mind some fun. But Opal was trying to break old habits. She didn’t need to enter another unhealthy relationship. Doctor Susie said being on your own was healthy.

Might be healthier for her, but she was fucking lonely.

Although, to be fair, she’d been lonely when she’d had a man.

The only time she hadn’t felt lonely was when she’d been on the run with Ryleigh, Kye, and Lilac. But then she’d been too stressed to feel much else.

Living with the Malones, she shouldn’t have felt lonely. But she had.

Maybe that was just her destiny. To always be on the outside looking in.

To never quite fit in.

Stop the pity party.

Sheesh. She’d never been one to go all ‘woe is me.’ Probably because she’d always been fighting to survive.

And maybe that’s why she was so tired all the time.

Well, that and the fucking nightmares that kept waking her up.

They pulled up outside her house and he turned to her. “You’re gonna fight me on this, aren’t you?”

“Fighting is what I do,” she replied glibly as she undid her belt and reached for her door handle.

“That’s all right. I can handle a fight.”

She froze at those words.

Most men would back off, would say that she was too much work.

However, everything she said to him seemed to be like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

A very stubborn, tenacious bull.

“Stay where you are until I open your door,” he barked as he got out.

Nope.

She opened the door and climbed out. He had to learn that he couldn’t boss her around.

And she had to show him that she was more trouble than she was worth. He would figure it out sooner or later and better to be sooner, right?

But when he appeared in front of her, he was smiling. She couldn’t call it a reassuring smile.

More hungry.

Shit.

Maybe she was making a mistake. Perhaps she should be doing everything he said without argument.

So change her personality? That would be tricky.

“Don’t give me that look,” she told him, drilling a finger into his chest. “This is not some sort of mating dance that we’re involved in.”

“You don’t find me attractive?”

“A sack of rocks would find you fucking attractive,” she told him. “And you know it.”

He folded his arms over his chest, highlighting his thick biceps as they stretched against his shirt.

Lord.

He was killing her and she had to make him back off. Because she was finding it hard to resist him.

She opened her mouth to blast him. To prove to him that she wasn’t worth putting in the time.

But she found she couldn’t do it. Because she didn’t want him to leave.

“What is wrong with me? Why do I want to let you help me?”

“It’s this town,” he told her.

“Huh?”

“Out there in the real world, you have to fight every day to survive. Here in Haven, it’s like they think life is worth living. That you should relax and do things that you find fun and fulfilling. Or some bullshit like that. I don’t know. I’ve been blocking it all for years, but it gets to you. Seeps into your pores.”

“That’s it.” Finally, someone who got it.

He nodded solemnly as he opened up the back door of his truck and grabbed out a toolbox and the new light.

“Yep. It can really get to you. Watch out or you’ll start shitting daisies and spewing out rainbows. That’s when you really know you’re in trouble.”

“Well, I never!”

Fucking great.

Would this woman never leave her alone?

Opal glared over at Mrs. Grackle where she stood at the end of her driveway with Barney.

Barney was glaring at Renard for some reason, but Mrs. Grackle only had eyes for her.

Fucking fantastic.

“I’m starting to think that I need to talk to the sheriff,” Opal told her. “Because it seems like I have a stalker.”

“What? Who?” Barney asked.

“Your aunt. She always seems to be over here. It’s becoming quite the nuisance.”

And Opal was nearly at the edge of her control. She’d tried being nice, she’d tried being patient. But enough was enough.

“Me? Stalk you? I don’t think so! I’m just trying to look after the people in this neighborhood. Quiet, decent people who wouldn’t appreciate the vulgarity coming from this man.” The Grackle waved her hand toward Renard.

“If you don’t want to hear it, don’t listen,” Renard told her. “And seems to me, you’re the only one fucking complaining.”

“Language!” she cried.

“Aunt Grace, perhaps we should keep going on our walk. You know that the doctor said stress isn’t good for your heart.”

“What does she know?” Mrs. Grackle snapped.

“Well, she did go to medical school for a number of years,” Barney said.

“Oh, be quiet, Barney! And I will be calling the sheriff, you . . . you trollop!” Mrs. Grackle yelled.

Renard moved so fast that she didn’t even see him. Honestly, how did he do that? And what was he doing?

He loomed over Mrs. Grackle. The older woman didn’t usually seem small; she was carrying a lot of extra weight. But she appeared tiny beside Renard and so did Barney, who was also shrinking back.

“Did you just call my friend a trollop?”

His friend?

“Your friend?” Mrs. Grackle sneered.

Wow.

Either she was tougher than Opal gave her credit for . . . or dumber. Because if Renard looked at her like that, then she’d shut the hell up.

“My friend. And as Opal’s friend, I am not going to stand here and listen to you insult her, understand me? Now, you got two choices. You can turn around, go home and stay away from Opal. Or you can keep coming at her, calling her names and being a rude shrew.”

Mrs. Grackle sucked in a loud breath. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“How dare you! I’m a respectable woman.”

“Are you? Because I don’t think a respectable woman would be so rude. Now, I don’t like having to speak like this to the elderly, but you don’t get to go around calling people names and think you’ll get away with it just because you’re old. You better take her home now.” Renard directed that last part at Barney before he turned around and headed back to Opal.

She stared at Mrs. Grackle who was going very red in the face.

“You probably shouldn’t have done that. She is old and I don’t think she’s that healthy.”

Barney was ushering his aunt away although it looked like she didn’t appreciate his efforts. Poor Barney. She hated to think what the rest of his weekend would be like.

“So that gives her a free pass to be a bitch? And I was going to call her that but I refrained.”

Did he want a pat on the back for that?

Although how often had Opal called her a bitch? In her head, of course.

“What if you get into trouble for talking to her like that?” she asked worriedly. They were very protective of women around here.

“Just because she’s a woman doesn’t mean she gets to do whatever she likes.”

No.

But no doubt Mrs. Grackle was going to make her pay for this.

Opal sighed. This was just what she needed. But even though she was grumbling about his interference, her insides were fizzing with delight.

He’d done what he said he would.

He’d stuck up for her.

Renard walked over to where her old security light had been set up. “Have you got a stepladder?”

“Um, no.”

“No?” He set the stuff in his hands down and turned to her with a frown. “But the old light is gone.”

“Yeah, most of it was in pieces on the ground.”

“How the hell did that happen?” he demanded.

She shrugged. “I really don’t know.”

“I don’t like that.”

Yeah. She didn’t like it either. “Must have been faulty or something.”

He raised his eyebrow in disbelief. Not that she blamed him. She had trouble believing that herself.

“Who took the rest of it down?” he asked. “It can’t have all been on the ground.”

“Oh, I did.”

“How the hell did you reach it without a stepladder?”

“Uh, by using a kitchen chair, of course.”

He started muttering something to himself and she felt sure she heard him say something about foolish women and breaking her neck.

But that couldn’t be right.

“Hey, you were the one that insisted on doing this,” she told him grumpily. “You can’t complain about me not having the right tools for you.”

“That is not what I’m complaining about and you know it. Complaining that you were foolish enough to climb onto a chair instead of using a stepladder. Don’t you know that you could have slipped off? Please tell me that you didn’t do that in those heels.”

“Honey, I do everything in heels,” she drawled. “And as you can see, I’m fine so there’s no need to get your knickers in a twist. I didn’t fall over, didn’t hurt myself. These aren’t even my highest ones.”

He just grunted.

But she could hear the disapproval in that grunt.

“Where’s the chair?” he demanded.

* * *

Damn woman.

What was she playing at? She needed to learn to let other people help her. There was no need for her to do everything when he was here.

Calm down.

She’s not your woman.

You don’t even want a woman, remember?

But for some reason, this one was getting under his skin. He’d thought he’d never be interested in another woman after Mary-Anne left him. She’d ripped out his fucking heart and left a ticking time bomb in its place.

And he’d vowed that no one else would be able to hurt him that way. Love and relationships and all that bullshit weren’t worth it.

So why did he care if this fool woman broke her fucking neck climbing up onto a chair to change a fucking light?

He didn’t.

Liar.

“I’ll go get it.”

She was gone before he could protest that he’d get it. When she returned, he was frowning.

“Thanks. Stay over there. Out of the way.”

She gave him an exasperated look as she took an exaggerated step back.

And now he was acting like a dick simply because he didn’t like the way he reacted to her.

What was that shit he’d spouted before about her having to tell him when someone made her skin itch?

Yeah. He was losing his fucking mind.

Calm it the fuck down. She ain’t interested. You ain’t interested.

“You can go inside if you want,” he told her gruffly. “Don’t have to stand out here in the cold watching me.”

“It’s sixty-four out here today. It’s hardly cold.”

Yeah. But he didn’t know if he could handle having her near him. It was distracting.

And even if it wasn’t cold, it wasn’t warm either. And she didn’t have a coat on.

“Where’s your coat?”

“Inside.”

“You should put it on.”

She slid her hands onto her hips. “I’m fine.”

She just had to keep challenging him, didn’t she? Well, he’d see about that. He started stripping off his flannel shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Stripping?”

“Why?” she asked in a high-pitched voice.

“Because it’s cold out and you won’t go get your coat. So I’m gonna give you my shirt.” He tugged it fully off. He had an undershirt on, and he didn’t mind the cold.

“Put it back on!” she cried. “The Grackle is gonna think we’re having sex out here or something.”

He snorted. “She needs to find something else to do with her time. And Grackle?”

To his surprise, red filled Opal’s cheeks. “That’s not her real name, obviously. It’s just that she . . . “

“Cackles like a grackle?” he asked.

A grin filled her face, making her look almost carefree. It occurred to him then how often she seemed laden down with worry.

She should be worry free. Having fun all the time. She was young. Not old and fucked up like he was.

Which is why you should stay away from her, you old asshole.

Maybe he should go to the club tonight. Burn some of this off.

“I’ll go get my coat,” she told him with a huff. “But will you please get dressed?”

“You said please.”

“Yeah. Do manners work on you?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Not really. But you put your coat on and I’ll get dressed.”

“You won’t always get your own way, you know!”

Yeah, he would.

He liked getting his own way so he made sure it happened a lot.

When she returned with a lightweight coat on, he grinned down at her.

“Right. Put yours back on, now,” she urged, glancing around almost frantically.

“Anyone would think you were ashamed of my body. I’m hurt.” He put a hand on his chest, giving her a sad look.

Her eyes widened. “What? No! That is not what I’m saying. Why would I say that? You’ve got an incredible body. You’re sexy as hell.”

“Thanks for noticing. Tell me more.” He drew his shirt on with a wink at her.

She glared up at him, her hands on her trim hips. “You’re gorgeous. You’re sexy. And you can also be a complete dick.”

He shrugged. “Yep. I know. But at least you’re warm now.”

There was silence as he got back to work which seemed odd for her.

“Oh, you are kidding me,” she muttered as he finished up.

Turning, he saw the sheriff’s car pull up.

Well, now, this ought to be interesting.