“There’s beer in the fridge, but I left the wine bottle in the living room…along with my glass.” She reached for several glass vases and set them on the counter next to the sink. It looked like she’d be busy for a few, snipping ends and filling the vases.
I bought too many flowers. “I’ll go get the wine and your glass.”
He found her glass on the coffee table and a half empty bottle of wine. It looked as though she’d been drinking while watching the road for him to arrive. Guilt made him wince at the thought.
Back in the kitchen, he topped off her glass and set it on the table, then turned to watch as she slid a tray of bread beneath the broiler in her oven.
“Won’t take but a couple of minutes,” she said, already pulling dishes from the cabinet to set beside the large pan of lasagna. “Hope you’re hungry.”
Moving around the kitchen with her gaze off him gave him a chance to watch her. She moved with economy and grace around her small kitchen. No hesitation, completely comfortable in her environment. He watched the way her long dress moved around her body, hugging her frame then falling away. When she bent to retrieve the tray from under the broiler, he gulped because her ass was round and soft, and he could already imagine having those generous globes clutched in his hands.
She quickly plated their food then strode toward him, her sandals clapping lightly on the tile floor, drawing his gaze downward to her pretty, dainty feet. He’d never paid much attention to women’s feet before, but hers were sure pretty.
After she placed the plates on the table, he held her chair then took the seat opposite hers. The lasagna didn’t look anything like the things he bought readymade in the grocery store. And the aroma…
He closed his eyes and breathed it in. “Damn.” When he opened his eyes, she was grinning. “Sorry. It smells amazing.”
“Dig in.”
The first bite confirmed what his nose had been telling him. His gaze didn’t rise again until he’d taken the last bite. He noted her portion was only half-eaten. He felt heat spread across his cheeks.
“Would you like some more?” she asked, her lips curving.
“Please.”
She took his plate and moved back to the counter, her dress twitching. “I’m glad you like it,” she said over her shoulder. “I can’t finish a pan of this all by myself. I’d never button my jeans.”
When she returned with an even larger portion, he made sure to take his time shoveling down his food.
“So, your…skip…made you chase him?” she asked.
“Wasn’t really a bail jumper this time. Just a guy who missed his court-appointed drug test.”
“What’s that like? Chasing after a man?”
“A pain in the a—. Um, not fun.” When her eyebrows rose, he continued, “As soon as I knocked on his front door, he went out the back and ran into the woods. I had to chase him down, look for signs of where he’d been…like boot prints and broken branches.”
“You can track a man?”
“I’m not like a bloodhound or anything, but I can read some signs, plus this dude wasn’t in great shape. I could hear him panting for breath. Every time I got near where he was hiding, he’d pop up and run again. I finally caught him in a deep ravine. Soaked my favorite work boots in sludge.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Your job sounds more exciting than mine.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I’m not the one who’s having rocks thrown through windows or trash bins lit on fire.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You really think it’s one person doing this?”
“I do. Once is bad luck. Twice? I might still have doubts. But three times? You can’t think of anyone who means you or your business harm?”
She shook her head. “I’ve racked my brain trying to figure it out.”
“No one’s interested in your store? No one’s tried to buy you out?”
“No one’s approached me. I do know businesses on Main Street are highly sought after.” When his eyebrows shot up, she laughed. “Yeah, even in little old Dead Horse. Everyone wants to be on the main strip to be seen, at least that’s what my realtor said. Bob Updike would like to have the building next to him so he can expand. Rosita Torres has mentioned a time or two about wanting a space to open a Mexican restaurant.” She shrugged her shoulders. “But they’re both harmless.”
Preacher frowned. “Our boss, Fletch Winter, had to purchase property on the outskirts of town, not that he needed prime realty, not with what we do. The guys told me folks weren’t all that friendly to an outsider buying up land inside the city limits, no matter how far out we were. You’re not from Dead Horse, Laura. How’d you manage to scoop up a building right on Main Street?”
She shrugged. “I offered more than the other party bidding on it.”
“You know who that was?”
“Ethan, my realtor, would.”
Preacher filed that little tidbit away for later. He took another bite of the lasagna. “Swear this is the best I’ve ever had.”
It was her turn to blush. “Thank you. I don’t get many opportunities to cook for someone else.”
“No? Good-lookin’ woman like you?”
She chuckled. “You don’t have to say that. I know I like my own donuts a little too much.”
He frowned. “I’m serious, Laura. You’re…pretty. Not a thing wrong with you.”
“A high compliment indeed,” she murmured, taking a sip of her wine. Her glance slid away.
He sighed, sure he’d said something wrong. He set down his fork. “I’m not good at talking…to women.” When she still didn’t meet his gaze, he reached across the table for her hand. Her glance fell to his hand, and he gave her a squeeze. “Look at me.”
She put down her glass and swallowed. Slowly, her gaze lifted to his. A blush was spreading across her cheeks, and he didn’t like that he’d made her uncomfortable.
“I’ve been tongue-tied trying to work up the courage to ask you out for weeks.”
“Why would you need courage?” she asked softly.
“Because…” He waved his free hand at her. “You’re perfect.”
She tried to drag her hand from under his, but he wouldn’t let her go.
“You’re perfect. Every time I look into your blue eyes, I forget my own damn name. I like the color of your hair, the freckles on your nose.” His gaze slipped lower. “I have to force myself not to look any lower when I’m standing at your counter because…” He swallowed before admitting, “I get hard just lookin’ at you.”
“You do?”
She sounded breathless, and that breathy thread made his groin tighten. He quickly glanced away and cleared his throat. “Yeah. I do. And I can’t be the only man in town who’s noticed how pretty you are.”
“I’ve been asked out exactly twice since I got here.”
He looked at her again, his gaze narrowing. “You dating someone else?”
“I was asked. I wasn’t interested—and I certainly never offered to cook for anyone else.”
“Oh.” That admission sent heat throughout his body. He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. “It’s a damn good thing we both ate the garlic bread.”