The visitor had to be the goddamn man who’d opened up the place.
Bart was relentless, the third pound on the door irritating. I threw my feet onto the floor, careful to avoid the broken glass. As soon as I stood, I could see a figure shifting back and forth. The one aspect of the house I couldn’t stand was the placement of almost clear glass panes flanking the thick wooden double door.
That would need to change.
The aggravation had spiraled onto an entirely different precipice by the time I reached the door. While the last thing I needed or wanted was company, by now the unwanted visitor had undoubtedly seen me. I was almost amused that I’d even considered hiding in my own house. Since when had that ever happened?
A jolt of pain in my leg forced me to stop after a few feet so I could massage my thigh. Like I was supposed to do every few hours to increase the blood flow.
I’d be damned if the visitor didn’t pound a fourth time.
Hobbling forward, I threw open the door, forgetting I had the weapon in my hand.
Of all the people I’d expected to see, the woman with attitude from the day before wasn’t it.
Worse than seeing her standing on my front porch was the way she was looking at me, scrutinizing every aspect of my being. With her nose wrinkled and her brow furrowed, she swept her gaze all the way to my bare feet. Was she criticizing me again?
What I hadn’t noticed the day before were the freckles dotting her nose. They were adorable and a feature I’d never cared for on any woman I’d dated. On her, they added to her youthful appearance and simple sensuality.
And what was wrong with my brain?
While I shouldn’t be thinking of her as anything but an unwanted annoyance, the way the wind was shifting her long strands of hair across her rosy cheeks was far too appealing. Enough so, I felt an even more pronounced twinge of desire in my cock. Where yesterday she’d worn her hair in a long braid, the free flow today framed her heart-shaped face and luscious full lips. Goddamn, she was a vision of beauty.
The moment was awkward, especially when she noticed the weapon tightly fisted in my hand. While her eyes initially opened wide, she certainly didn’t seem as frightened as most people would be in confronting a man with a gun.
Her mouth twisted, her eyes pinpricks of accusations. I realized I had the barrel pointed at her chest. Her breathing resumed only after I’d lowered my arm, flicking the safety and shoving the Glock into the waistband of my trousers.
Just as I finally opened my mouth to tell her to leave, or maybe to offer an excuse for pulling a gun on her, she jumped ahead of me.
“Mr. Prince. I know I just stopped by and it’s early, but I’m working all day and knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate if I didn’t come to your house and apologize for my atrocious behavior. See, this isn’t the best time of year for me. I mean business is going great and overall, I’m happy, but this day on the calendar, I mean the actual date is one I’d rather shove straight to hell. Even the days leading up to it fry my sense of humanity. However, there isn’t a good enough excuse for the way I treated you yesterday. Even if you did come off as an arrogant bastard. Here. I brought you a peace offering.”
Very slowly I lowered my gaze from the twinkle in her eyes to what she was holding in her hands.
“They’re blueberry streusel muffins and a thermos of Brazilian hazelnut coffee with a twist of cinnamon.”
I was clueless how to react, so like some fucking idiot, I did my best impression of a statue.
“Wait a minute. Are you thinking I poisoned them?” Her tone was haughtier than the day before.
Dear God, the woman was brash. She’d also managed to catch me off guard. No one brought me baked goods. Not even my own family, save for Emmeline when she was insistent I try a new bakery item from our bistro. What also struck me was thatno one in my life had ever left me speechless. This woman had managed one too many feats in less than twenty-four hours.
I allowed my gaze to move from concentrating on her soft lips to her snow-covered boots, smirking when I did. Who the hell wore a skirt with snow boots? And why was the look adorable on her? Including the wildly colorful design.
She rolled her eyes, bending down and placing the items two inches from my feet. As soon as she stood, she tossed her hair over her shoulder, revealing the long line of her neck. “Eat them. Don’t eat them. That’s your choice. So you know, I made them with my own two hands, sans the hemlock.” She took a step away. “Oh, and when you’re done, you can bring the plate and my favorite thermos to my store Sunlight and Sparkles. I’ll be the chick holding the hemlock bottle in her hand.”
With that, she stormed off my porch, her long legs pumping. Within seconds, she was inside her beat-up truck with the engine started.
And just like that, seconds later freshly fallen snow sprayed across both sides of the driveway as she floored the gear in reverse.
While I watched the taillights until they faded into the distance, all I could think about was who the hell was the woman who’d sparked something deep, dark, and sadistic within me; the kind of desire for filth that had my balls hanging low and my cock pressing painfully against my zipper.
And I didn’t even know her name.
CHAPTER 6
Fleur
A weapon.
