The Hunk Next Door by Debra Webb, Regan Black Read Free Book Online Page A

sink and rinsing it.
    “True,” he admitted. “I’ll work up a few ideas for them to consider. If it were my place I’d go with tile.”
    “Hard on the knees,” Mrs. Wilks interjected. “Then you just end up with rugs and mats everywhere.”
    He mentioned the reclaimed hardwood and Mrs. Wilks offered an exuberant opinion on the value of that idea. He pretended not to notice Abby slipping away from the kitchen.
    Mrs. Wilks had no such problem. She motioned for him to lean in closer. “That girl is suspicious of everyone these days. Don’t let it bother you.”
    “I hear she has cause.”
    “That she does,” Mrs. Wilks agreed. “Go with the reclaimed floor. Better all around.”
    “All right,” he said, listening to the stair treads creak. He grinned at Mrs. Wilks. “I promise I’m not here to cause more trouble.”
    “Oh, I could tell that first thing,” she said. “She’ll relax. Personally, I’m glad to have a strapping young man so close. Makes me feel safe.” She got up, put her glass in the sink and walked to the door. “She cooks when she’s upset. Based on the groceries she hauled in the other day, there’s at least one lasagna in her freezer and another in the oven. You could do worse than get yourself invited to dinner.”
    Startled by the older woman’s suggestion, he didn’t have a chance to reply before she was gone. The older woman was a matchmaker. He’d stake his skill with a weapon on it.
    He was putting the glasses in the dishwasher when the chief reappeared.
    “Where’s Mrs. Wilks?”
    “Home,” he replied, drying his hands. “She said something about dinner in the oven.”
    “I’m the one with dinner baking,” she muttered. She’d been watching his hands with an odd expression, but those blue eyes abruptly locked on to his face.
    He looped the towel through the bar on the front of the dishwasher and tucked his hands into his pockets. She tempted him, her dark, snug jeans hugging her curves and her soft gray cable-knit sweater emphasizing the storms in her eyes. “Are you satisfied now?”
    She scowled at him. “With what?”
    “Your search,” he reminded her. “You were kind of obvious. Whatever you think I am, you’re wrong.” It was one of the few things he could say with absolute certainty.
    “You have no idea what I think about you.”
    He pushed away from the counter, pleased when she held her ground. Maybe she wasn’t seeing him as a threat after all. “Enlighten me,” he suggested as he covered the plate of cookies.
    “I’m still assessing,” she said, reaching for the coat she’d draped over the chair back.
    He laughed.
    “What’s so funny?” She paused, her hands going still on the second toggle of her coat.
    “Sorry.” He held up his hands. “Just the two of us tiptoeing around the facts.”
    “Which are?”
    “We’re neighbors. The whole welcome thing reminds me of something my mom used to say.”
    “Which is?”
    “Not really appropriate.” And nonexistent. “Is there anything I could do or say to put you at ease?”
    “Tell me what your mom said.”
    “Maybe another time.” He grabbed his beer, taking a long pull from the bottle while he watched her.
    “You seem legit,” she admitted reluctantly.
    “Thanks.” He returned the beer to the counter. “I could raise a little hell if it would make you feel better.”
    “I’d feel better if you stayed at one of the long-term hotels like the rest of the crews.”
    “Ah. But that’s not happening.”
    “What did your mother say?”
    He shook his head. She was tenacious, a trait that must serve her well. “It had to do with snooping and gossip, but it doesn’t really apply in this case.”
    A telltale blush crept into her cheeks. “Why not?”
    “Because you were checking the closets for bodies or stolen goods, right?”
    “Maybe.”
    He shrugged. “That’s your job,” he replied. “And why should I get offended if I’m not hiding anything.” Not where she could find