So, he might read her easily enough, but she didn’t understand him at all. “Lead the way.”
“With you armed? Not sure I want you at my back—no offense intended.”
If she wanted to shoot him, he’d be shot, but she said only, “You’re a funny guy.”
“Not usually.” As if it confused him, he shook his head and turned to the dog. “Let’s go, bud. Time for dinner.”
That got Turbo’s interest and he led the way.
Jodi fell into step beside Hunter. His house was two-and-a-half times the size of hers, but then, hers was super small, or as she liked to think, the perfect size for one. Security lights were mounted all around his property. Cameras, too—especially on his massive garage. Made sense, she figured, because he worked on pricey cars.
She had only a ramshackle carport where she left her mower chained to a deeply buried stake. It wasn’t the safest way to secure it, but no one could get it without making a racket, and she had plenty of ways to stop that from happening.
Unlike her stone house, his was made mostly of logs, with a pretty, dark blue metal roof. The tinted windows reflected the lighter shade of the sky, so she couldn’t really see inside until he stepped onto the deck and opened the front door.
Latent misgivings crowded in. Pretty sure there were some things that would always stick with her. “You go ahead.”
His probing gaze searched her face. Then he gave a single nod of understanding and went inside, all the way through a comfy living room with high ceilings, past a dining area and into the kitchen. Turbo was right with him, making some crazy, croaking sound and bouncing off his front paws while Hunter went about refilling his dog dish.
Cautiously stepping in, Jodi tested the turn of the doorknob, making certain it would open again, then closed the door. He had a sturdy dead bolt to secure it, and when she scoped out her surroundings, she saw that the windows had equally impressive locks as well as alarms.
The room opened into another with a dining table, and beyond that, the kitchen. She took note of a massive fireplace, a big-screen TV, a leather couch and chair, heavy wood furniture, and... Why does he have binoculars on the table?
From the kitchen, Hunter said, “Master bedroom and bath are to the right of the dining room. Spare bedroom, half bath and my office are to the left.”
“Nice place.” She noticed fishing equipment hanging on the wall in the dining room. Where did he fish? In the creek?
“It wasn’t when I bought it, so thanks.”
“Big garage.”
“I work on cars, remember? That’s part of how I support myself.”
Part? She started to ask...and then changed her mind. If she asked questions, he’d do the same, and pretty soon they’d be sharing backgrounds or something equally appalling. “You do the remodel yourself?” Damn it, that question wasn’t much better.
He paused with the food dish in his hands—until Turbo made that weird sound again.
“Your dog is broken.”
That earned a smile. “My dog is awesome.” He set down the food and they both watched Turbo chow down until Hunter said, “You’re the first person who’s been in here, which means, yes, I did the work myself.”
Wow, that seemed to be some grand confession, practically torn from him. Was it deliberate to get her to open up, too? Fat chance. Knowing she was the first only amplified her growing tension. Why the hell would he have her in, but no one else? Automatically, she searched for all avenues of escape.
When he casually leaned back against the counter, allowing a lot of space to remain between them, she forced herself to relax. A little.
After all, she felt the weight of the gun against her body.
“What about deliveries?” she asked, just to break the awkward silence—a silence she’d caused with her insecurity.
“No deliveries. I get my own supplies and bring them here. Pick up my mail in town. And...” Thoughtful, he rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I think you’re cautious.”
If by cautious he meant guarded against all threats, armed to the teeth and very mistrusting, then yeah, she was cautious.
He didn’t wait for her to speak. “I am as well. After all, I moved out here to be alone.” His brows pulled together. “Actually, I hadn’t figured on ever having a neighbor.”
“You said my house is a dump, so you assumed it’d sit empty?” The idea saddened Jodi, mostly because, on a gut level, she understood the need to shield herself from the world.
“Yet you’re here, so...” He turned his head in what looked like frustrated resignation.
“I’m here and you wish I wasn’t, so you invited me to dinner?” Seemed like an odd gesture from a guy who wanted seclusion.
“I won’t make a habit of it.”
She laughed. She, Jodi Bentley, the girl who almost never laughed. Oh, she faked it sometimes, and on rare occasions, she laughed with one of her closest friends—because seriously, she did have friends now. Everyday life for the everyday woman. One step at a time.
“Tell you what,” she said, already backing away. “I’ll let you off the hook—”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
Those softly spoken words, said with complete conviction, rooted her to the spot. “Yeah, well...”
“Dinner will be good. You look fine, even sweaty. And I won’t interrogate you if you don’t interrogate me. Deal?”
She couldn’t think of a quick reason to refuse. Turned out she didn’t have to, because without her uttering a single word, he pretended she’d agreed.
“Glad that’s settled.” On the move now, he said, “The grill is out here,” and he went through a screen door to where a larger deck faced an awesome yard.
After another fast but thorough look around, she followed him out...and stalled when she saw a bunch of chickens in a fancy two-story coop and enclosed run. Even with the evidence right before her, she asked incredulously, “You raise chickens?”
“Of course not. Those are wild mountain chickens. For some reason, they hang out in the coop.”
Ha! Going to the rail, she took in the impressive setup. “Wild mountain chickens, huh?”
“That’s right. I’ve tried to run them off, and instead, they leave eggs in the nesting boxes. Go figure.” He started the grill, then quickly went back inside. It was almost like he ran from himself; far as she could figure, she wasn’t doing anything to set him off.
Well, except noticing his chickens.
Let him work it out, she decided, and went down two steps to the neatly cut yard. On one side was that really impressive coop filled with a dozen happily clucking birds, and on the other... Huh. A garden. Not just any garden, but one inside another enclosure with fenced walls and a wire-mesh roof—to protect his veggies from critters? Seemed likely. After all, just beyond the finished area were the same creek and woods and foothills that made up her own backyard.