Page 25 of Savior
The air conditioner turns out to be an easy fix and I’m done within the quarter hour like I told her. She’s waiting for me in the kitchen when I walk in. Her hands are free and loose by her sides, but she’s still radiating a nervous energy.
“You should be good to go,” I say. “Your condensation drain was clogged. Just had to shop vac it out.”
She blinks her big blue eyes up at me. “That was fast,” she says after a few seconds.
I shrug, nodding to the roasting pan sitting on her stove. “What is that?”
“Dinner.” When I don’t move, she adds. “I had a pot roast on today while I was at work.”
“Smells good.”
She glances at me and then at the door, and I can tell she’s struggling with telling me she wants me to leave, which only makes me want to stay. “I can make you some to take home,” she finally offers. “As a thank you. I know you just got off work. I didn’t mean to bother you.”
I gesture dismissively. “Not your fault. I help Aunt Diane out on occasion when I can. And I’d appreciate some pot roast. I was going to get down on my knees and beg, but you saved me the trouble.”
Laughter dances in her eyes for a second, and all I want to do is make her laugh again to see her face brighten with it. “I wouldn’t want to make you beg.”
“Thank you, I’d appreciate it.”
While she pulls out a Tupperware, I get my first close up study of her since she started making it a point to avoid me. Her frame is deceptively slight. Since she’s moved in, I’ve watched her moving around furniture at all hours, so I know she’s stronger than she looks. She tries to hide behind simple, dull colors and faded clothes, but her face is striking, her intelligent eyes too alluring to be forgotten.
I’m admiring the shape of her legs and the jeans that are almost painted on when I notice a familiar shape beneath her thick cardigan. My brows pull together as the two thoughts collide. First, that her ass is altogether too good to be true, and second that she’s packing another dangerous weapon under those clothes.
The sight reminds me of the conversation she had with the suit on her porch and renews my interest. What is she doing carrying a gun?
I barely have time to control my expression before she turns back to me and holds out the container. I take it automatically, noting her own tense look.
“Thanks for coming by so late.”
“You’re welcome.”
I don’t want to make her uncomfortable or cause her to clam up, so I walk to the front door, considering my options. She opens it for me, and I walk through. I don’t know what happened to this girl, but it’s obvious that something did. The locks, the lights, the gun . . . my gut twists at the possibilities. Suddenly, the last thing I want to do is make her feel uncomfortable, but I have to know . . .
“I got a few things to say and the way I figure it, you’ve got a couple options.”
She licks her lips. “Oh?”
“You can either tell me to go to hell and slam the door in my face, or you can hear me out.” Before she can speak, I raise my hand. “Before you slam that door, let me elaborate. The only two people I care in the world are giving to a fault. They’re the type who’d give the coat off their back and so on.”
Eyeing me warily, she says, “Yes, I’m aware.”
“Good, then you know that there are people in this world who take advantage of kindness like that.”
“And you think I’m one of them?”
“I’d like to think not, but in my line of work it pays to be cautious and when it comes to them, I’m probably overly cautious.”
“If you think I’m going to object, you’re wrong. Look, I realize you don’t know me, and maybe we got off on the wrong foot, but I do understand the concept of protecting your family.”
“Then I hope you’ll understand when I ask outright if there’s anything I should be worried about when it comes to you.”
Her eyes flash, but she doesn’t slam the door in my face. “There are reasons why I like to maintain my privacy, but no, there’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“Bullshit,” I say without preamble.
She blinks. “I’m sorry?”
“I said, ‘bullshit’.”