“Why aren’t you using your cane?” I could instantly tell my question annoyed him by the way his body stiffened.
“Because I was told I needed to cease relying on any crutch.”
“But if you need it, fuck everyone else.”
Almost immediately, his expression softened, but there was a deep pain haunting his emerald eyes that had nothing to do with his physical abilities. “Maybe you’re right. Make yourself at home.” The security system was reengaged almost immediately.
“How long are you planning on being here?”
“Not long enough to become attached.”
And there it was, confirmation our passion was for only one night. Fine by me.
“You look like you could use a drink. If you point the way to your kitchen or maybe your bar, I’ll be happy to make you something. I’m sure you have a fancy collection of wines and liquors. Only the best.” I wasn’t certain why I threw it out other than I was fearful he would disappear in his own house.
The fact he was debating answering me seemed odd. He pointed across the oversized living space. “Suit yourself.”
When he started to walk off I cleared my throat. “Whiskey. Right?”
“How do you know that?” His response wasn’t simply curious. It was accusatory.
“Because I could taste it on you.”
The stiffness remained for a few seconds. Even the fingers of his hand not firmly wrapped around a weapon was fisted. Was the man ready for a fight? “How very observant of you. Whiskey. There’s an open bottle in the kitchen. Wine. Beer. Whatever you’d like.”
He tipped his head until his eyes pierced mine. While I couldn’t tell exactly what he was thinking, I sensed he was questioningwhy he’d brought me here. The way his gaze fell was as powerful as I’d sensed he was in whatever life he’d escaped from. Only here, we were on a more even playing field.
Whatever that meant.
“I’ll be right back. Just…” His hesitation was forced, something on his mind. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Why did I have the feeling he was talking about even stepping foot outside his house?
Mr. Brooding left me alone to fend for myself after he’d hung up both jackets. Another shiver left my mouth dry. Another reminder he was dangerous.
But to whom?
Still chilled to the bone, I rubbed my arms before yanking off my heels, fearful of denting the highly polished wooden floor. The house was as beautiful as I’d envisioned. The wooden beams and mile-high glass as well as the floor-to-cathedral-ceiling stone fireplace managed to create a cozy atmosphere. Every room of my little house could almost fit into the living room.
As soon as he disappeared down a hallway, I headed in the direction of where he’d pointed. It was no surprise that the kitchen was stunning in both features and artistry. With gleaming appliances and the kind of granite countertops I’d only seen in glossy magazines for chalets in ski resorts, I was instantly in awe.
While it was obvious he’d just arrived given there was no real life to the space other than the single Yankee candle positioned beside the kitchen window, the space was appealing.
The bottle of whiskey was on the counter, a single glass in the sink. There were also bottles of wine in a small but tightly packed wine cooler, the dual temperatures allowing for both red and white wines. I busied myself locating a wine opener and glasses, the silence in the house creeping into becoming unnerving.
As if by magic, the quiet faded, drifting into a melodic moment where music seemed to be coming from every corner of the house. Classical music. Piano music to be exact, the melody almost mournful in its simple beauty.
I was momentarily caught off guard as I poured a glass of cabernet. Montgomery was a complicated man. It was easy to tell when his sullen demeanor collided with his hero persona. Maybe I was making too much out of how he’d handled Randy, but I was still impressed.
With a laugh, a funny thought entered my mind. What had he done with the muffins? They weren’t in sight on the counter. Maybe he’d placed them in the refrigerator, which wasn’t necessary.
A single glance over my shoulder brought a smile. I was snooping, but who cared. He certainly wasn’t going to tell me much about himself. Why not find out on my own? I opened the fridge door, remaining church mouse quiet. While it was stocked with everything a growing boy would need, there were no muffins.
I checked the massive pantry and the cabinets, my curiosity strong enough to kill a cat.
No muffins.
He’d tossed them. He’d really believed I had intentions of poisoning him. Was he kidding me?
