That was the biggest line of crap she'd ever heard. What was he afraid of? You can't kiss someone with that much emotion—heart—and not really mean it, feel it. So it couldn’t be how he felt about her that made him back off just now, something else bothered him. What?
After several beats of uncomfortable silence, she fished her car keys from her pocket. "Okay then. You're probably right. This is a bad idea."
She spun around and headed for the door, holding hope he'd call after her.
Nothing.
Moving slowly, she climbed into her vehicle and started the engine, all the time wishing that front door of his would open and he'd step through it to stop her from leaving.
Nothing.
If it hadn't been for the swirling desire in his gaze when they stared at each other in silence, she wouldn't have held hope he'd come after her. Between his intense stare and the seducing movement of his mouth when it was pressed to hers, there was no way he didn't desire her. So why did he fight it?
Peeling back the layers of Bryce Hawk just became her new life mission.
Chapter Seven
The bright morning sun poked through the blinds warming Bryce's cheeks as he stared at the newly painted ceiling like he'd been doing for the past several hours. Based on the little amount of sleep he'd actually gotten, he should have just stayed up and moved on to plastering the dining room after he was finished with the living room, but instead, he mistakenly thought he'd be able to get some sleep after that mindboggling kiss he'd shared with Markie. He could have plastered this big old house in its entirety and it wouldn't have taken enough time for the effects of her kiss to wear off his lips...heart...soul.
Dammit.
This was exactly what he feared, wanting her more than he could bear. If he just hadn't kissed her he'd be okay. He would have never known the potency of it—the effect she'd have on him. He'd assumed it in the past, but now he knew for sure.
Dammit.
How in the hell was he going to manage to work at the same place as her and keep his hands off her now that he'd had a taste? To make matters worse, the emotion she poured into that kiss, and the intense look in her gaze told him she felt the same. Soulmate came to mind.
Why did I lose my control like that? Now he had to hurt her feelings, too.
He closed his eyes. Visions of Markie's milky white face and bright emerald eyes drifted through his brain. She smiled warmly. His heart fluttered. Maybe there was hope for a woman like her. Would someone like her, strong but caring, be able to accept him—his disabilities? He wanted more than anything to believe his dad that he was making too much of his disabilities. That he placed more weight on them than anyone else did. That the right woman would easily accept him for who he was. Yet every time he thought about someone—Markie—seeing his partial limb, it made him sick to know what she might think or how she might react.
Bryce opened his eyes, turned his head, and caught a glimpse of his prosthetic leg leaned up against the nightstand. Cold, hard dread weighed down his chest, making it hard to breathe. If dealing with his amputated leg wasn't bad enough already, he also had to deal with his missing testicle. Hopeless.
He flung the covers back, yanked the liner off the nightstand, and slipped it onto what was left of his leg, then he pulled on the prosthetic and it clicked into place.
Knowing he wasn't going to leave the house he slid into a pair of shorts and yanked a crappy, paint-stained T-shirt over his head. Today, he'd plaster the dining room. Later this week, he would paint both the living room and dining room, and then his dad could help him with cutting and staining the trim. It would be nice to complete those rooms, especially the living room. Then he could finally get his big screen TV hung and watch it from the comfort of the leather recliner he'd planned to purchase. There was lots to do yet in this big ole fixer-upper, but he enjoyed doing it as it kept his mind off things—Markie. But now, after they'd shared that kiss, pushing her to the back of his mind would be even more difficult.
Bryce stepped into the kitchen. As the coffee brewed, he leaned back against the counter and glanced around the kitchen, pleased with how it turned out. This room had been in terrible condition when he moved in, so it, along with the crappy downstairs bathroom, were the first areas he tackled. Those two rooms were far tougher than the master bedroom he completed two months ago, and the living room and dining room he currently worked on. He saved the upstairs bedrooms and bathroom for last since he really didn't need those.
Though a couple of the downstairs rooms were done, they weren't really completed, they lacked the finishing touches—warmth. The kind of warmth one sees in other houses—curtains, rugs, magnets on the fridge. When it came to that stuff, he didn't have a clue what to purchase. Maybe he could call stepmother number four for help. They were about the same age, and judging from how she'd decorated his father's house, he liked her taste. Giving his mother a call was of no use. He stopped calling her when she'd stopped returning his calls. In fact, neither he nor his brother knew where she was anymore. Overall, they made the right choice to live with their dad after the divorce, but their mom never got over it. It's not that they didn't love her, they did, but her alcoholism had been more than they could handle.
What a freaking dysfunctional family he had. An estranged alcoholic mother, a father who couldn't seem to stay married for more than a few years, and him—incomplete both physically, but more important, mentally. It's a wonder Carter turned out as good as he did. But, they all loved each other.
The coffee maker beeped and he poured himself a cup of brew.
After two mugs of coffee and a banana, he mixed a bucket of plaster and began spreading it on the walls of his dining room. He'd been at it for a couple of hours when a knock sounded on his front door. Wanting to be alone, he considered not even looking to see who it was. But the second knock got the best of him so he set down his trowel, stepped into the living room, and took a peek out the window.
Lori stood on his front step, two white bakery bags gripped in her hand. His growling stomach practically begged him to let her in. He knocked on the window, and her head snapped in his direction. He held up his pointer finger and mouthed, "Just a minute."
She nodded.
Bryce shot off to his bedroom to change out of his shorts and into a pair of jeans.
He unlocked the front door and Lori stepped through. "Morning," she said as she glanced around the room. "I just wanted to see what kind of progress you've made. It's coming along nicely."
"Thanks."
She handed him one of the bags. "I got you two of your favorites."
God, he hoped she was talking about chocolate covered, custard filled doughnuts. He opened the bag. Awesome. His mouth watered at the sight of them.
Lori followed him to the kitchen, pulled out a chair, and dug into her bakery bag.
"Want a cup of coffee?" he asked.
"Yeah, that'd be great."
After pouring them each a cup, he sat across from her.
He kept his eyes focused on the pastry as to avoid her usual adoring gaze and hoping to avoid giving her any false hope. He knew she liked him and wanted more than just friendship from him, and though he thought she was a great person and liked spending time with her, friendship was all he felt for her.
He did his best not to lead her on, though found himself flirting with her on occasion. He liked to flirt. It was fun for him, and he was good at it. He really missed doing it with someone he liked in a romantic way. Someone like Markie. But, when it came to flirting with her, he kept himself in check, because it was too risky—dangerous. Man, keeping in check with Markie was about the hardest thing he had to do.
Lori's warm smile reminded him he had to keep himself in check with her as well. Hurting the kind woman across the table from him was the last thing he wanted to do. She’d become a good friend.
Lori lifted her napkin and swiped it over her thin lips. Not full lips like Markie's. Not kissable lips like Markie's. His mo
uth and tongue tingled in anticipation of another long lingering kiss from that desirable redhead.
No. That would never happen. It couldn't.
"Are you okay?" Lori asked as she set her napkin back on her lap.
"Huh?"
"Are you okay? You look...pale."
"Yes, I'm fine. I was really givin' 'er earlier. Trying to make some headway on this place this weekend since I'll be busy for the next couple."
"Oh. You've got some exciting plans?"
"Yeah. My brother will be on leave. He's coming home for a visit, so I'm going to spend some time with him and my dad."
"That sounds nice. How's your dad and Bridget doing? They're so nice."
She'd met his dad and stepmom a few months back when they came up and took him to dinner. Lori and her parents happened to stroll into the Bay Lodge for dinner as well.
"They're good. Dad comes up every now and then and helps me out."
"That's nice he's so handy. You're both so handy. My father's a banker. Physical labor is not his thing at all," she said with a chuckle.
Her father wasn't just a banker, he was the bank president, and a nice guy to boot. He wasn't at all the stuffy old banker type.
"I almost hate to ask but..." She paused and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth as she averted her gaze momentarily. "Are the police making any headway with the murder investigations?"
Anxiety swirled in his stomach. "I don't think so, but at least Markie doesn't think it's me anymore." He swallowed hard. "I hope anyhow."
After that kiss they'd shared the night before, the way she poured emotion into it, there was no way she could possibly believe he was a murderer.
When he refocused on his guest, he noticed her eyes had narrowed, and her jaw clenched. Her nostrils constricted as she drew in a long breath. A tiny, squiggly vein swelled on her temple. He guessed she was angry Markie had considered him a person of interest. Truth be told, he was angry at the thought as well, but he realized Markie was only doing her job by investigating all leads and theories.
Her jaw loosened slightly, but her facial muscles still looked tense. "I can't believe she'd think such a thing. She knows you. She knows what a great person you are. You're the first person to raise your hand to volunteer to help someone in need. You mind your own business—"
He lifted his hand. "It's okay. She's just doing her job. It will work itself out."
"How can you be so relaxed about this? What if it doesn't? What if..."
Bryce leaned closer to her from across the table. "I will be fine. Markie's a great investigator. She'll find the murderer."
The bulging vein in Lori's temple thickened and pulsed as she ran a shaky hand through her hair. "Well, I hope for your sake the perfect little Markie Pearson does."
The hostility lacing her tone surprised him. Had she read him? Did she know of his romantic feelings for Markie? Was it jealousy that upset her? He'd never seen her even slightly angry. She was always the bubbly, perky type, but right now, the level of anger laced in her tight facial muscles and emitting from her stare alarmed him.
Her gaze drifted to the window for a few ticks before she crumpled up her napkin and stuffed it into the bakery bag lying on the table.
Her facial muscles softened, then she glanced around the room. "Well, I guess I should let you get back to it."
The comment was the kind as if looking for an invitation to stay longer, and though he didn't mind her company, he wanted to get back to work.
"Yeah, those walls don't plaster themselves."
She rose slowly as if still waiting for an invite to hang around. Asking her to stay would be a mistake, not to mention a little uncomfortable in her present mood.
"You have a lot of work to be done here. I could help you," Lori offered.
"Thanks. I appreciate that but mudding is a one person job," he countered.
"Oh, okay."
This conversation—visit—needed to end. He sprang to his feet. "Thanks so much for the doughnuts. They hit the spot."
"You're welcome."
She smiled and nodded as he walked past her to lead her out.
He opened the front door for her.
Glancing over her shoulder, she caught his gaze. "If you want to do something later, when you're done for the day, some of the dart league group is getting together at O'Malley's to shoot a few rounds."
"Thanks. But I think I'm going to work late. Finish up some stuff."
Disappointment emitted from her gaze. "Okay. But if you change your mind you know where to find us."
He closed the door behind her, spun around, and leaned back. If Lori didn't find someone else to focus her energy on soon he'd probably have to quit the dart league to distance himself from her.
"EXACTLY WHO ARE YOU hoping to see tonight?" Her best friend asked.
Markie turned and looked at her to find her knowing, inquisitive gaze nearly smiling. "Huh?"
"Hmm, let's see. You're wearing eye shadow, which happens rarely, the earrings are even rarer. You've looked in the mirror at least ten times in the past five minutes. And don't even get me started on the fact you curled your hair. I didn't even know you owned a curling iron let alone knew how to style going out hair."
Her cheeks heated. She could lie to her friend about hoping she'd see Bryce at O'Malley's tonight, but she wasn't good at lying, and her bestie would see through anything she made up. They'd been friends for too many years for her to hide the truth.
After a few ticks of the clock, Amber filled the silence. "Fine. Keep your little secret for now. I'll figure it out."
"Can we just go?"
"Sure."
They loaded into Amber's car and headed to O'Malley's.
Typical for a Saturday night, the parking lot was nearly full. Markie's heart skipped a beat at the sight of Lori Holloway's car parked near the entrance. If she was in there, perhaps the entire dart team was as well. They were a tight group. It likely meant that Bryce was in there, too.
She and Amber slipped through the back door and squeezed their way through the crowd until they reached the bar. They each ordered a mug of beer. Markie lifted the glass to her lips as she scanned over the top of the rim to scope out the clientele. Sure enough, Lori and some of her teammates were sitting at a table near the dartboards. No Bryce, though. Maybe he just wasn't here yet.
Her friend shouldered her. "I wonder if that hottie Bryce is here."
Markie's pulse picked up at the sound of his name. "Probably. The rest of his dart team is here," she said, making every effort to keep her tone in check so her comrade wouldn't figure her out.
Every man’s gazes were on Amber as she moved toward the dartboards. She reached out and grabbed her model-grade friend's upper arm. "Where are you going?"
Her friend’s eyebrows drew together. "Over by Bryce's gang."
This wasn't the first time her bestie had made reference to Bryce being a hottie, or the first time she intentionally placed herself in his line of sight. But so far, the city planner hadn't taken the bait.
"Oh."
"You don't want to go over there?"
Of course she did. That's why she was out tonight in the first place. Since O'Malley's was their league sponsor, his team hung out there regularly. This was a way to see Bryce and attempt to be discreet about it.
She released her friend's thin arm and followed her. "Yeah, I guess it's okay."
Amber stepped up between Phil and Doug; both immediately offered their chairs to her. She passed on the offers as she stepped around the other side of the tall table and stood between Lori and Mike. Lori scooted her chair over a bit.
"Heard you guys are doing well in the league," Amber commented.
"Yeah, we're in first but only by a few games," Phil responded with a proud smile.
"Makes sense with as much as you guys seem to practice," she replied.
The guy just smiled.
"No Bryce tonight?" Amber asked.
"Nope." Lori hissed out. The w
oman's facial muscles tightened.
Why Lori's tenseness at the simple question? Jealousy?
"Hmm, that's odd," Amber commented.
"He's home. Working on his house." Lori fixed her glare on Markie. "I think that was just an excuse though. If I had to guess, I'd say he's hiding, staying out of the public eye because the whole town knows he's a murder suspect." the woman's shrill tone held no secrets.
The table fell silent. In fact, the blasting music and fifty other conversations in the bar fell silent to Markie's ears as well. Her pounding pulse was all she heard.
"Now wait just a minute, Markie is only doing her job." Amber defended.
Lori raised her hand in the stop position. "I don't want to hear it," she said as she swung her gaze from Amber to her. The woman's nostrils flared. "You know him. He would never do anything like that. I don't know why you always have to give him such a hard time."
Markie hitched her chin. "Hard time. I don't. My job is to find out who killed Sister Ann and Edwin Hulbert, and that includes following all leads no matter who they may involve."
She pulled her gaze from Lori and planted it on her bestie. "This is why I don't go out in this town. All I wanted was a couple of beers and to have some fun. Not listen to this."
It was time to leave. She needed to walk away before this escalated. It wouldn’t look good for a police investigator to get into an argument in a bar. Something like that would spread like wildfire in this small town, probably wind up on the front page of the newspaper, and explode on social media. Both she and the department didn't need that crap. Plus, she didn't want to hear any more about how she gave Bryce a hard time. Too much truth, and for that she was ashamed and embarrassed.
Amber looked at Markie over the roof of her car. "I'm sorry. If I'd known Lori would go all bat-shit crazy like that I would have never gone over to her table."
"It's okay. You couldn't have known."
"What an odd outburst from her. Don't you think? She never acts that way," her friend said, then slipped into the vehicle.
The Code Enforcer Page 6
