Bounty (Walk the Right Road) by Lorhainne Eckhart Read Free Book Online Page A

the burns there.
    “Or something,” he replied. He took another swig of beer and then leaned forward, watching her with an expression of compassion.
    “You don’t talk much about yourself, do you?” she asked. She needed him to talk about something, anything, because it was starting to sink in how stupid a move it had been, shooting off rounds in her yard, even though she had five acres and had done it before. So did others in the area. Technically, it should have been okay. She was starting to pace her property line in her head, seeing it from where the downed tree was and the trails started. “So stupid,” she muttered.
    “You okay?” he asked.
    “I was just going through how close I was to the back of my property, you know, the line to the park. I didn’t think. I have five acres, but it starts closer to the front. I should set up my targets out front, but my land is more deep than it is wide. I just haven’t thought about people wandering around back there, because they never have. I’m sorry, Zac. Are you sure I shouldn’t take you to the hospital, get it checked out? I know you’re a doctor and all that.”
    He reached out and gripped her wrist. “When was the last time you ate?”
    Diane blinked. Her skin was on fire from his touch. She’d never had a man touch her with such concern. It was crumbling all her self-confidence and the ballsy front she always put up: Diane, who had to be the strong one. Everyone leaned on her, always had. She didn’t know how to handle his concern. “A burger before I came to the morgue. Sam stopped, made me eat it to absorb all the beer I’d downed so I wasn’t stumbling and falling over in front of you and Casey.”
    “Do you like stir fry?”
    Was he asking her to stay for dinner, or was he going to take her out? Or was this just a general question? “Sure, I like stir fry. Why?” She swallowed the lump jamming her throat, because the way he watched her was like the way a cat studied its prey, deciding what to do next. It was unsettling.
    “I’m going to cook you dinner,” he said.

Chapter 8
    Diane was perched on a stool Zac had dragged over to the kitchen island. He had patted the seat, and she’d hopped up and sat to watch while he chopped fresh vegetables on a wood cutting board. Rice simmered on the stovetop built into the kitchen island beside him. The sweet aroma filled the room, and Diane’s mouth watered, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the food, from the fact that a man she’d just met earlier today was cooking for her, or from the man himself. He was wearing a pair of gray sweats and white t-shirt, having taken a couple minutes to change when he’d settled her in.
    In those minutes, she’d considered bolting. She couldn’t figure him out. He wasn’t handsome or gorgeous in a pretty-boy way. He worked out, and it showed under his shirt and sweats with the cut of every muscle in his well-toned body. His face was scarred, not grotesquely but in a way that held a story. Each line, each expression, and the way he held himself, everything about him was so closed that she couldn’t read it.
    He had a presence that came from deep inside him, that filled the space around him and reached out to her. She realized as she sat in silence, watching him, that he had the ability to either bring her into his space or keep her locked out forever. She clutched the glass of water he’d handed her when he lifted the full can of beer from her hands. She couldn’t drink any more beer, and he must have known. Here he was, the injured one, and he was taking care of her.
    “What’s your story, Zac?”
    He stopped his chopping and slowly raised his gaze. His expression was guarded.
    “You won’t talk about yourself, and you’ve evaded or not answered everything I’ve asked you tonight. Now you’re cooking me dinner after I nearly killed you.”
    He set the large knife down and wiped his hands on the dishtowel on the counter. He stepped around the kitchen