Tristan on a Harley (Louisiana Knights Book 3) by Jennifer Blake Read Free Book Online Page B

one under the steep roof that received light through dormer windows. The floor-to-ceiling windows across the front were protected by shutters, as was the fan-lighted entrance door, and all were set behind a long, railed porch. The building appeared almost derelict, however, fighting a desperate rearguard action against the forces of nature that were trying to take it down.
    Trey eased the bike to a stop and put out his feet to brace it on either side. For long moments, he simply sat looking at the place.
    “This is where Lance and Mandy hid out for a day or two last year, isn’t it, when those mafia guys were after her?” Zeni scooted from behind him, dismounting as she removed her helmet and dropped her goggles inside it.
    He tipped his head in a nod. “They pulled the RV out of sight around the back. I’ve never seen a female as happy as Mandy was when she saw the clothes you sent her.”
    “Being half naked while in the company of a man you don’t know from Adam can do that to a woman.” Her voice held more than a little asperity.
    “Guess I’ll never be able to check that out,” he said and heaved a sigh.
    “I should hope not, if it includes people trying to kill you.”
    He gave her a quick grin as he removed his helmet, then took hers and hung both on the handlebars, but he made no answer.
    A sidewalk of faded red brick led toward the house’s front steps. Zeni followed it, scuffling through mats of decaying leaves, avoiding patches of green moss, stepping over rotted limbs and twigs. The motorcycle’s engine rumbled to a stop behind her as Trey turned the key, and she heard his footsteps when he trailed after her. His progress was stop-and-go, however, as if he was assessing the place for future reference.
    “So what’s this about?” she asked over her shoulder. “You feeling a sudden yen to get back to your roots?”
    “Something like that.”
    She’d been kidding, just getting in a dig at him as she’d done a thousand times before. Something in his voice as he answered snagged her attention. She halted and turned back toward him.
    “Really? You mean it?”
    “I own the place now. Several relatives were involved in the ownership after my granddad died. My dad signed over his interest to me, and I finally raised enough money to buy out my sisters and a couple of aunts and uncles.”
    “And you’re going to do what with it? Spend a fortune restoring this big barn of a house and then live in it?”
    “Is that so hard to believe?”
    An acid retort crossed her mind, but the defensive sound of his voice kept her from letting fly with it. He expected her to be scathing, and that made her wary. It was an odd turn of affairs.
    “It will take a lot of work,” she said instead, turning back to stare at the house.
    “Or a good contractor, after I get some of the clean-up done.” He stopped beside her.
    She tilted her head. “I’m pretty good with a broom.”
    “You mean it?” The look he directed toward her was more than a little surprised.
    She did, oddly enough. Something about the mats of leaves on the steps leading up to the porch, the layer of dirt scum on its floor and the grime on the old wavy glass of the one or two windows uncovered by shutters made her itch to get to work. It had nothing to do with Trey, however. No, not at all. It was only that she hated dirt and disorder on general principles.
    “Why not?” she asked with a challenge in her eyes, daring him to make something of it.

    Why not, indeed, Trey thought, as he gazed down at Zeni.
    It was a novel experience, being of the same mind with her. Though they saw each other nearly every day, she was usually so busy or prickly that they never really connected. Oh, they discussed the day-to-day running of his different enterprises, but they were brief exchanges, all business. To talk to her, be close to her, provide something that gained her interest, was an event worth extending.
    Besides, they had just arrived, and he wasn’t