Page 20 of Dark ’N’ Deadly

“He’s probably just beat.”

She stared after him. “I hope you’re right.”

“Can I get you a beer?” He opened the refrigerator and pulled out two microbrews. “I don’t have any wine.”

“Beer is fine.” She rose on her tiptoes, stretching her arms toward the black dinner plates. The movement tightened her shirt across her back, and the colorful tie-dye skirt. His kitchen was black, white, and gray like the rest of his house, but her presence made the room come alive.

It was obvious she was way too short to reach the plates. He set the beers on the counter then came behind her. “I’ve got this.” He reached over her head and pulled two plates from the top of the stack. When his chest contacted her back, she startled then spun, grabbing onto his waist to steady herself.

Her breasts grazed his abs, sending tingles all the way down to his bare feet. Roses and oranges invaded his nose, and he breathed deeper, taking more of her scent into his lungs. Her lips parted, and—

Move along. Nothing to see here.

His feet wouldn’t cooperate.

Quit thinking with your dick, moron.

A quick roll in the hay wasn’t what either of them needed.

Another flash of lightning lit the sky, followed immediately by a crack of thunder. Less than a second later, sheets of rain pelted the kitchen window and glass door to the backyard.

The cooktop’s timer buzzed, and he stepped back as she pushed gently at his waist.

“Um,” she mumbled, averting her eyes from his. “I need to strain the pasta.”

Right. Strain the pasta. “I’ll get those beers.”

Minutes later, they were seated at the table, digging into the meal she’d prepared. “This is good.” He shoved another forkful of the meat sauce-laden pasta into his mouth.

“Thank you.” She twirled spaghetti with her fork, but hers didn’t have any meat sauce on it, only vegetables.

He chewed then swallowed. “You don’t eat meat?”

“Nope.” She popped a chunk of zucchini into her mouth.

“Why not?” He loaded his fork with more pasta.

She finished chewing then dabbed at the corners of her mouth. “I grew up in a rural, wooded area and learned how to shoot and hunt when I was a little girl. Something changed, then I couldn’t stand the idea of hunting anything. It made me sick to my stomach.”

“Never would have pegged you for a hunter.” Never in a million years. Although her long mop of curly red hair probably satisfied the requisite square inches of hunter orange. “What changed?”

The fork froze halfway to her mouth. “It just…didn’t sit well with me anymore.”

“I could see how that would happen. Hunting isn’t for everyone.” Aside from condiments, there was very little in his refrigerator and freezer that a vegetarian or a vegan could survive on. “Tiger and I eat mostly steak and chicken. Guess we should go shopping tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” She gave him a brief smile, then lifted her glass and took a dainty sip. “And thank you again for being nice to Jesse. He never had a good role model growing up.”

“What about your father?” Her past intrigued him. He already knew she and her brother were from Alabama, but whereas Jesse’s southern twang was obvious, hers was nonexistent.

She set down the beer and sighed. “When Jesse was two years old, our father left for work and never came home. He just disappeared.”

“Did you file a missing person’s report?”

“My mother did.” Her brows furrowed. “She looked for him everywhere. She even hired a private investigator to find him, but it was like someone erased him from the face of the earth. We never saw or heard from him again.”

Hmm. Most people didn’t disappear without a trace. “I’m sorry.”

She twirled more spaghetti around on her plate but didn’t eat it. “It took a long time to stop thinking about him every day.”