Page 40 of The Bronze Garza

“So I’m told.” I hold the bowl out to her again and she takes another tomato. “Do you have children, Jo?”

“No.”

“Ever been married?”

“No.” A pregnant pause. “Joined the army at nineteen. Served for as long as they allowed me to. Never built a life. Gave it all to ma’ country.”

“Well, Jo, thank you for your service.”

Only then do I get a lopsided smile. “Was an honor to serve.”

“Do you have any more books inside?” I ask her.

“Depends. What do you read?”

“Thrillers.”

“I’d have pegged you for a romance reader,” Jo says, pushing to her feet, and holy moly she’s huge. Legs like tree trunks. And so, so tall. How is this small log-house enough for her?

“I was,” I admit. “Until real life happened.”

“A thriller happened?”

I bite my lip and nod. “Yeah. A thriller happened.”

She disappears inside, then returns a few minutes later with a stack of books and sets them down on the wooden table between us. “Some of my favorites.”

I set my bowl down and pluck up the first book from the stack.The Girl Beforeby JP Delaney. There’s always a girl before, isn’t there? I don’t bother to read the synopsis, I just flip it open and start to read.

“I have a five-page rule,” I tell Jo. “Five pages to win me over, or I’m out.”

She snorts. “In that case, get comfortable with that one.”

I lean back in the chair and do just that. And together, in silence, we read.

~

By thetimeI manage to slam the book shut, it’s sundown. The story had hooked me and refused to let go.

Jo shares some pickled mangoes with me, and we exchange thoughts about the plot.

The sky is darkening when I finally bid her a good evening and trek back to the house. Torin isn’t in his “workshop” anymore, so I slide the door closed and head upstairs.

I find him in the kitchen cooking. He looks freshly showered; barefoot, in faded jeans and a wife-beater. Ihatethe things that happen in my body just from looking at him.Gah! He’s just...one really hot bastard. And it makes me so damn mad. I’m supposed to be in anti-men zone right now. So why aren’t my ovaries getting the memo?

“Back so soon?” he asks without even bothering to look up from where he’s chopping parsley.

Soon? I was gone for hours! Choosing to ignore his assholery, I put the empty bowl in the sink and start out of the kitchen.

“Are you all healed?” he asks, stopping me. “From the accident.”

With a gasp of shock, I turn slowly to face him. “Was that an actual solicitous inquiry?”

He glowers at me under his brows.

“Don’t tell me you have a heart, after all,” I say. “I couldn’t bear it.”

A noise reverberates in his throat. “Sorry I asked.”