hair wouldn’t qualify as a motive.
The guy must have sensed her fears. He
lifted his free hand in mock surrender. “I mean you no harm.”
“Said the spider to the fly,” she said under
her breath, making Owen chuckle.
“It’s a good thing I am not a spider and you
are not a fly,” the man responded.
Her brows drew together. She hadn’t thought
he was close enough to hear her. “Why are you following us?”
His low chuckle vibrated from his chest in a
pleasant, nonthreatening mode of amusement. “I don’t live far from
here. I would ask you the same thing if you weren’t walking in
front of me.”
“We don’t live far from here either.” All
her training for this century and Raziel’s warnings should have
cautioned her to stay away from this man. If not those warnings,
his large structure should intimidate her, and his surly
disposition should tell her to stay clear of him as well, but call
it womanly intuition, the warning bells remained silent.
He caught up to them now. Tall, fierce, and
perhaps a bit on the arrogant side—he knew he turned heads and made
no qualms about it, but something happened lately that put a kink
in his armor. His hesitant smile, the way he shoved his hand in his
pocket spoke of a man unsure of himself for perhaps the first time.
She had a hunch it wasn’t the obvious fight he’d been in earlier.
His scrapes and bruises didn’t look as pronounced as they did at
the Laundromat. His damp hair told her he took a shower before
venturing out again.
“I live at the Courtyard Apartments.” He
nodded in the direction they were walking.
“We just moved in there.” Her frown
deepened. What were the odds?
“Hmm...” His brows drew together over the
bridge of his nose, obviously thinking the same thing. “The ‘for
rent’ sign was gone. I figured the apartment had been leased out.
The other tenant moved out last month. Job related.” He
shrugged.
“We moved in a few days ago. Small
world.”
“Isn’t it?” His direct gaze spoke of
suspicion as if he didn’t completely believe her story.
Shouldn’t she be the one questioning
this?
“Since you and your son are heading in the
same direction, do you mind if I tag along?”
“Oh, he’s not my son.” Why did she blurt
that out? “I mean… He’s my nephew… I’m his guardian.”
His gaze flickered to Owen. “His parents
have passed on?”
“My mother died giving birth to me,” Owen
volunteered the information. “My father’s wanted by—”
Juliet didn’t let Owen finish, drowning out
his words with her own explanation. “His father isn’t the best
influence on the boy, if you know what I mean. I have full custody
of him.” Even to her ears the story sounded fishy. What was wrong
with her?
“You have no need to explain your home life
to me.” He looked at Owen again. “My father would not win the Best Father of the Year Award either.”
His gaze traveled to hers again with warm
understanding. He told the truth about his father. What beautiful
eyes he had. Even in the streetlight, the shade of a winter storm
mesmerized her. She purposely looked away to prevent herself from
staring.
“Shall we?” he asked with a wave of his
hand.
She and Owen walked on the sidewalk and he
took the edge of the street to keep pace with them. They didn’t
make conversation, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. His
presence actually felt comforting.
She pulled her jacket closer around her as
the wind picked up. The weatherman said rain was in the forecast.
She hoped it would pass them by until the end of the week. The
Shakespeare in the Park theatrical group she belonged to was
hosting tryouts tomorrow night in the outdoor amphitheatre. Rain or
shine they didn’t cancel, but attendance would suffer.
Owen swiped his nose with the back of his
hand and she immediately handed him a Kleenex. Owen always had a
runny nose. Allergies she was told, but medicine didn’t seem to
help. The runny nose didn’t hamper