“Let me preface this by stating that this is also none of your business, but Reg and I are friends. That’s all.”
“You kissed.” The barstool creaked under his weight as he shifted toward me. “Not a friend kiss.”
I frowned. “How would you know that?”
“Because I fucking saw you from the fucking roof.”
My jaw dropped while my voice went up an octave. “You were spying on me?”
“No! I was removing a tree. The policeman’s property is behind Mrs. Abrams’s. You were in his yard, and your tongue was in his mouth. You’re either his lover or his?—”
I slapped my hand on the granite island and glowered. “Enough! That was months ago. We’re not—you know what? I don’t owe you an explanation. And I’m certainly not going to justify my personal life to a bigot I barely know. You can leave now.”
Viggo managed to look insulted and righteous at the same time. An impressive feat for someone who was so in the wrong, it wasn’t even funny.
“I am no bigot. I don’t care who you fuck. Man or woman, does not matter to me.”
“Oh, gee, that’s big of you,” I snarked.
“I’m big.”
I huffed a laugh. Was this lumberjack humor?
“Right. I can see that.”
I gave Viggo a thorough once-over. Not the sexy kind, though. This was more of a deliberate measurement delivered with a sneer I hoped signaled that I wasn’t intimidated. The problem was that my gaze stalled on his beefy thighs and, without my permission, checked out his bulge.
Whoa. Rein it in, Dex.
Viggo frowned. “I don’t care if you’re a homosexual.”
“Bisexual,” I corrected, crossing my arms.
“Me too. Doesn’t matter. The baby matters.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “Fine. You’re going to need my help.”
He’d adjusted his tone to something more conciliatory and less…presumptuous. I felt my resolve soften for a beat, then quickly reminded myself that I didn’t know this guy.
“Thank you for you offer, but?—”
“It’s not an offer. It’s a statement. You need help with the baby…and it will have to be me.” Viggo slid off the stool gracefully and carefully pushed it in, like a maître d’ at a fancy restaurant. “Good night.”
“Hang on a second.” I marched in his wake to the front door and slipped around him, blocking his exit. “I’m choosing to believe you’re here because you care about your friend. However, your willful ignorance of the law is troubling. You’re in no position to make demands, Viggo. None. If I have to get a restraining order, I’ll do it.”
He considered me for a long moment, rubbing his thick beard thoughtfully. “That is very serious.”
“Yeah, it is. ’Cause here’s the thing…I don’t know you.”
Viggo inhaled deeply, his piercing gaze boring a hole in my head. Geez, this man was intense. “There’s an easy solution for that. I don’t like it any more than you do, but…we’ll have to become better acquainted. Starting tomorrow.”
“Uh…excuse me?”
“I’ll buy an apple fritter in the morning. I’ll say hello. We can trade greetings for a week or so and go from there.” He opened the door and tilted his chin. “Good night, Dexter.”
I stood on the porch, my mouth a perfect O as I watched Viggo buckle his helmet, straddle his bike, and rev it to life. I’d love to claim that I was frozen in place by his sheer audacity and that nothing about this burly man on a Harley did anything for me, but I wasn’t sure that was true. I’d give myself a stern talking-to later.
For now…what the actual fuck was going on?
CHAPTER 5
