When Tate stumbled over a particularly vivid description, Mabel giggled, sounding more like a teenager than a senior citizen.
“Don’t tell me you’re a prude, Tate!”
“I’m not.” Hunter could attest to that, but she kept the thought to herself. “It’s only that I’ve never read something like this aloud before.”
“Well, you’re doing fine. Keep going.” So much for hoping that Mabel would get sleepy soon.
Tate launched right back into the story, doing her best to read with greater enthusiasm for the sake of her audience. She noticed that someone had also muted the television in the next room. It was too much to hope that the twins weren’t listening.
Oh, well. She brazened her way through the next couple of pages. By the time the hero and heroine had exhausted themselves with some incredibly acrobatic maneuvers, Tate was ready for a long nap herself. She closed the book and stood up.
“I need to get home so I can finish cleaning the shop and get things set up for tomorrow. If you need anything, though, don’t be a martyr. Call me and I’ll come running.” She leaned down and kissed Mabel on the cheek before removing the extra pillows so she could lay back down and sleep.
“Thank you for visiting, Tate.” Mabel’s smile was a bit wicked. “And I appreciate your reading to us. It brought back some fond memories.”
“T.M.I., Mabel! Way too much information!” Tate laughed, though, as she left the room. Her friend was definitely on the mend.
Out in the living room, the twins had turned the television back up to its usual level now that the dramatic reading was over.
“Bye, ladies. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
When Tate returned home, she noticed D.J.’s car was gone, as was Hunter’s truck. Not her business, she reminded herself. At least she’d have some peace and quiet while she gave the shop a quick touch-up. When the floor was swept and the sugar bowls filled, she’d throw a couple of batches of cookies in the oven and measure out the ingredients for the scones she’d make in the morning. She’d keep an eye out for Hunter, of course, not that she was worried about him.
With everything that had happened, it seemed like her mother had been gone for days rather than a matter of hours. She didn’t want to risk calling Sandra until she knew what had happened to result in her leaving. It never paid to deal with Sandra without having all the facts first. Her mother had a real talent for twisting everything to fit her own selfish take on things. That was the only reason Tate wanted to talk to Hunter.
Yeah, right. She picked up the broom and went after the crumbs under the tables with a great deal of enthusiasm. Just because she and Hunter had had sex—granted, it had been red hot, brain-melting sex—that didn’t mean that she had any claim on him or wanted one. She knew that.
Once she finished sweeping, Tate decided the window on the garage side of the shop needed cleaning. There were definitely fingerprints on the glass that had to come off. She’d get around to the other windows tomorrow or the next day. Granted, a side benefit of washing that particular stretch of glass was that it afforded her a perfect view of the garage and therefore Hunter’s apartment.
God, she had it bad.
Hunter liked the salty tang in the air. On the way into town they’d spotted a small park overlooking the Sound and had decided to eat dinner there. Both men were new to the Pacific Northwest and still felt a bit like tourists when it came to soaking in the beauty of the Cascades to the east and the islands and Puget Sound to the west. Besides, staring at the landscape gave Hunter an excuse not to talk for a while.
Most people felt it necessary to fill a lull in conversation with meaningless chatter, but Hunter’s dinner companion seemed at ease in silence. Maybe it was just Larem’s demeanor, or maybe he knew Hunter wasn’t comfortable sharing tempura with a Kalith warrior yet.
“I hate to admit it, but Devlin was right about you,” Hunter said, breaking the silence.
Larem had been about to take a bite of rice, but Hunter’s comment made him drop it on the table. Both men ignored the mess.
Larem set his chopsticks aside and took a long drink of his iced tea before responding. “Most of the time Devlin does his best to ignore me. I suspect I’m a problem he doesn’t know how to solve. I can’t imagine that he had much good to say.”
Hunter frowned. “Actually, when I first landed in his office, I made a comment, which I won’t repeat here, that set him off big time. He specifically mentioned you, and Barak and his sister. Something about you being considered friends and allies and that you were different from those we cross swords with on a regular basis.”
That clearly surprised Larem. “I knew he tolerated us, but I’ve always assumed it was because circumstances gave him no choice.”
“That might be true,” Hunter said with a smile. “But he said he’d throw my worthless carcass on the first plane back to Missouri if I couldn’t adjust to the way things are out here.”
Pale gray eyes studied Hunter for several seconds. “So, can you adjust?”
“ I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” He picked up his chopsticks and began eating again.
“I guess we will.” Larem laughed softly before adding, “But do me a favor?”
“What’s that?”
“If you decide you can’t adjust, give me a chance to draw my sword before you attack. I find it undignified to defend myself with words when my enemy has a blade.” Not that Larem seemed all that worried about the possibility.
“Fair enough,” Hunter told him. “Although if my Cardinals ever face your Mariners in the post-season, all bets are off.”
Larem nodded gravely. “I stand forewarned.”
“We’d better finish up here and get into position. I want to be ready if company comes calling tonight.”
He’d been dreading another night on the hillside, but with Larem close by, he wouldn’t feel quite so isolated. And if that wasn’t an odd turn of events, he didn’t know what was.
“Mr. Black, I’m afraid our usual trip north has to be postponed for another few days. I regret the short notice and any inconvenience it may cause you.”
Joe doubted that Mr. White gave a rip how he felt about anything. As far as Joe could tell, there were only two things his employer cared about: money and himself.
“That’s all right, sir,” Joe lied. “I can use the time.” To get rip-roaring drunk, but he knew better than to share that part.
Mr. White sounded disgusted. “As you well know, Mr. Black, circumstances can change in an instant. I would hate to call upon your services only to find out that you were—incapacitated.”
Joe stared at his phone. The man on the other end was too damned spooky. It was like he had a direct line to Joe’s most secret thoughts. “Not a problem, sir. I might have a beer or two with friends over a friendly game of pool, but I quit drinking myself stupid years ago.”
“You may lie to yourself all you like, but don’t presume to lie to me, Mr. Black. I’ll be in touch.”
As usual, the line went dead before Joe could respond. God, he really hated that man. On the other hand, he had the next few nights off. He’d head for the local watering hole and nurse a beer while checking out the singles scene. Who knows, maybe he’d get lucky. A warm and willing woman beat a six-pack of beer hands down. And better yet, no hangover.
Feeling much better about life in general, Joe headed home to clean up. Would putting fresh sheets on his bed jinx him? Either way, it was a risk he was willing to take.
Hunter plunked down at his usual table in the tea shop. It had been several days since he’d stopped in. He and Larem had spent three of the last four nights on that godforsaken bluff with nothing to show for it but sore asses from sitting on the rocky ground. D.J. and Barak had finally showed up last evening with Penn Sebastian in tow, apologizing for the delay but not bothering to offer excuses. Shit happened—they already knew that.
But at least Penn and Barak had covered lookout duty last night. They planned on getting a
hotel room to sleep during the daylight hours before returning to the bluff for two more nights. Hunter’s own Kalith houseguest had ridden back to Seattle with D.J. As Larem had climbed into D.J.’s car, he’d promised to return when Penn and Barak were scheduled to leave, provided he could get a ride. The barrier had finally stabilized, but there was no predicting how long it would last. If the Paladins were busy staving off an invasion, Larem would be without wheels.
Funny, Hunter had grown so accustomed to Larem’s dry sense of humor and soothing nature that he’d all but forgotten Larem wasn’t human. It was only when he mentioned something like not being able to drive that Hunter remembered his new friend was from another world.
But right now, despite Hunter’s first full night’s sleep in days, he couldn’t relax, and it sure as hell wasn’t because Larem had waved good-bye. The cause of his unrest was a petite blonde with bright blue eyes. He’d caught the occasional glimpse of her over the past few days, but he’d kept his distance.
What pissed him off was that Tate had made a point of ignoring him, too. He’d caught himself preparing to wave if she’d looked in his direction, only she never had. He no longer sensed her watching him when he mowed her lawn. Nor had Tate’s name come up when he’d stopped by to make sure that Mabel was feeling better and to see if the Auntie Ms needed anything from town.
Despite his vow to put some distance between himself and Tate, he hadn’t realized how much it would bother him to sever the connection completely. Was she all right? Had she heard from Sandra again? When he’d woken up that morning, it had occurred to him that he hadn’t finished telling her what had transpired between him and her mother.
So that was his excuse for coming into the tea shop. Unfortunately, despite the nice weather, it looked like everyone within ten miles had all come at once. Tate was efficient, but she was looking a bit overwhelmed. Should he offer her a helping hand?
A low rumble caught his attention. A tour bus pulled up outside and women were already streaming off it, heading straight for the shop. He got up to warn Tate, who had just carried a tray full of dirty cups and saucers into the kitchen.
She looked up from loading the dishwasher, clearly not happy he’d invaded her domain.
“I was going to get to you.”
Maybe when hell froze over, but they’d have that discussion later.
“I thought you’d want to know that you have a busload of customers on their way into the shop.” The bells above started chiming like crazy, as if to confirm his tale.
Tate looked a bit shell-shocked. “A whole busload? Where am I going to put them all?”
“That’s your problem. I’m here to do dishes and fill pots of hot water.” He made shooing motions with his hands. “Go. I’ll take care of this.”
She wiped her hands on a towel. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. I’d ferry the clean stuff out, but I don’t have a health certificate.”
“God, you’re right. Okay, I’ll go take orders. If you’ll fill the pots, I’ll add the tea. And when you get a second, there are more pastries in the freezer. If you’ll set them on the counter, I’ll defrost them when I come back with the first set of orders.”
“Will do.”
It didn’t take long for the two of them to fall into a rhythm. He kept the dishwasher running and a line of pots ready to fill as she needed them. When things finally slowed down, he was surprised to see that two hours had flown by. The noise coming from the shop had lessened considerably, a good sign that the rush was over.
He leaned against the counter as he counted down the seconds until the dishwasher shut off again. Once he emptied it, he’d head home before his leg gave out. In case Tate didn’t return before he left, he scribbled her a note. They’d reestablished some of their previous rapport, and he didn’t want to blow it by letting her think he was avoiding her. Any information he had to give her about her mother had waited this long. Surely it could wait until he was able to stand without pain.
A few minutes later he made his way across the yard toward the garage. He was leaning heavily on his cane and having serious doubts that he’d make it up the steps. God, he hated this! How was he ever going to get his life back if he couldn’t manage a few steps without crawling?
“Hey, Hunter!” a familiar voice called out.
He froze midstep, wishing like hell he could just ignore Penn Sebastian’s greeting and continue on alone. That wasn’t going to happen, though. Carefully schooling his expression, he turned to face them.
“Penn. Barak.”
Barak nodded in what Hunter was coming to realize was his typical quiet, reserved way. Penn was only slightly more outgoing.
“We thought we’d stop by and see if you wanted to have dinner.” Penn shot his future brother-in-law a dark look. “And since it’s my turn to pick, we’re going somewhere that serves big, bloody steaks.”
He looked to Hunter for sympathy. “Last night we ate vegetarian lasagna and salad. The closest thing they had to real food were the anchovies in the salad. And tough guy here even picked those out.”
Barak took the teasing with his usual equanimity. “How about the night before? You ate fish and chips, and I had to live on slaw.”
When it became obvious that the squabble would continue indefinitely, Hunter jumped in. “Why don’t we call out for pizza? I’ve got plenty of beer.”
“Perfect,” Penn agreed. “You and I can get a couple of extra larges with the works, and the alien here can have a veggie.”
“Alien? What planet are you from?”
All three men spun in unison to face Tate. How the heck had she managed to sneak up on three highly trained warriors without any of them noticing?
Barak smiled warmly. “Tate, I don’t believe you’ve met my fiancée’s idiot brother. Penn Sebastian, this is Hunter’s landlady, Tate Justice.”
The Paladin shot Barak an offended look before holding his hand out to Tate. “Nice to meet you, Tate. I’m sorry that you have to put up with the likes of D.J. and Barak. Hunter and Larem are okay, but they too lack my charm.”
Tate arched an eyebrow. “Don’t forget your humility.”
Hunter had to laugh. She always gave as good as she got, and he liked that about her. Despite his belief that it was best they limit the time they spent together, maybe it was okay as long as they had a buffer to keep things from getting out of hand. Besides, she had to be exhausted.
“Look, we’ve decided to get pizza for dinner. Would you like to add one to the order?”
“Actually, that’s why I followed you. I was going to drive into town to pick up something to eat, because I couldn’t face the thought of cooking tonight.”
“What’s your pleasure?” Penn asked.
Something in his voice made it clear that he was talking about more than her favorite toppings. Hunter’s temper instantly flared. Now was not the time to lose control, not with Tate standing there. Not again.
“I know what she likes,” he announced, pinning Penn with a dark look. “I’ll call in the order.”
When Barak saw Tate roll her eyes, he offered her a smile. “Shall we go upstairs and leave these two to finish pounding on their chests?”
She giggled. “Let’s. I know the pizza number by heart. The food should get here by the time they’re done beating each other bloody.”
She swept past Penn and Hunter, patting each of them on the cheek as she passed. Barak smirked as he followed her up the stairs. When Hunter realized Penn’s eyes were focused on the tight fit of Tate’s jeans, he elbowed the Paladin.
“Knock it off,” he growled.
“Oops, sorry.” Penn’s grin was unapologetic. “I take it you’ve got dibs on her.”
“What I have on her is none of your business.” God, could he have worded that any worse?
Penn laughed and started up the stairs, allowing Hunter to follow at his own speed. The brief delay in hashing out their plans for dinner had given him time to rest his le
g. He still wasn’t going to win any races, but at least he’d been spared the embarrassment of asking for help.
He could hear Tate’s soft voice mixed in with the deeper male ones. What did she think of Barak? Did his unusual coloring mean anything to her? Not that he was worried about any uncomfortable questions she might ask the Kalith warrior or Penn. Like all Paladins, Penn was a practiced liar when it came to what he did for a living or where he disappeared to when duty called. Barak had secrets of his own to protect, and Hunter was sure the man had a plausible cover story.
She hadn’t asked Hunter himself much about his own past, maybe because she knew he was recovering from an injury. He dreaded the day she did start asking questions, though; he’d really hate lying to her.
But the bottom line was that he’d do it anyway.
Chapter 12
Tate noticed that Hunter had become a night owl, their paths rarely having crossed over the past week. His friends came and went, sometimes stopping in her shop to say hello, sometimes not. Barak, especially, seemed intent on trying every tea she offered, but Hunter rarely came with him.
It was tempting to pump Hunter’s friends for information, but she refrained. She suspected they were as closemouthed in their own way as he was. At least when he was with them, he was friendlier than he had been when he’d first arrived.
Good for him, but she couldn’t help but wish that she was the one he’d turned to for companionship—of all kinds. Depending on her mood, she ran the full gamut of emotions about their one bout of hot sex. On a good day, she accepted it for what it was—a fun romp between two consenting adults. On a downswing, she had to wonder if she’d misread his response to the whole episode.
Then there was today, when she wanted to track him down and demand answers to all of her questions. Where had he come from? How had he gotten hurt? What did he do for a living? How long was he going to stay? And, finally, how dare he ignore her after everything they’d been through, in bed and out?
It didn’t help that her mother had finally called. Evidently Sandra had gone crawling back to Edwin. If she was telling the truth, they were working hard to fix what was broken in their relationship. According to Sandra, Edwin was a nice man who wanted a wife. She, on the other hand, wasn’t sure she was cut out to stay with one man for the long haul. However, she’d promised Edwin she’d try. What mattered was that they were still together. It was a start.
Defeat the Darkness (Paladins of Darkness 6) Page 17
