For now, with the holidays, staff were eager for the extra hours, but it wasn’t sustainable. She’d have to start interviews next week. Maybe if she lucked out, she could hire someone before Christmas, but probably not.
Odessa finger-combed her hair and tied it back loosely. It was just long enough to be tied but kept slipping free. With a sigh, she willed herself to leave work at work. Ruby was with her grandparents and she had plans with her boyfriend.
It felt so strange to think of Mads as her boyfriend, even though she could picture a romantic relationship with ease, but the term boyfriend felt weird. Too immature. They were adults. She was a parent. What grown woman had a boyfriend? Romantic partner felt too formal and not her style. Lover? Well, he wasn’t—yet—and the term grossed her out. In the bedroom, yes. Anywhere else, it sounded too try-hard and pretentious.
Sweetheart? Too innocent. Paramour? Better. Beau? Good luck not snickering and affecting a bad Scarlett O’Hara accent.
Dating was hard. No wonder she hadn’t bothered. The question remained about where their relationship was headed. She couldn’t do casual. She wasn’t wired that way.
In the last week, after the break-in Sunday, Mads had been over for dinner twice. He had a meal with her kid. A man only looking for a casual hook-up wouldn’t take the time to get to know her daughter, right?
The house was freezing when she got home. Setting the bag of groceries on the counter, she checked the thermostat. The stupid heater liked to turn itself off. She reported the problem to the landlord, but his response was, “Just turn it back on.”
She adjusted the temperature, but the central heat didn’t kick on. Maybe the pilot light went out?
The back door opened. “Did you find my phone?”
“Not yet.” His phone vanished the other night. It hadn’t fallen behind the sofa, which meant that Ruby probably smuggled it to her bedroom to play games on it.
“No worries.” He rubbed his hands together. “Is it this cold on purpose?”
“Yes, Mads. Arctic temperatures are all the rage,” she said dryly. “The stupid heater is on the blink.”
“Flashlight? I’ll go check it out.”
She rummaged in a drawer and handed the flashlight to him. If he wanted to go into the freezing basement, more power to him. While she waited, she preheated the oven and unloaded the dishwasher.
Mads tromped up the stairs. “How old is the furnace?”
“I dunno. The house was built in the 60s.”
“I don’t think it’s the original but it’s old. And dead. You need a professional.”
Fantastic. Temperatures in the twenties and a busted heater. She phoned the landlord, who tried to convince her she was imagining the heater not working because being a woman, somehow, made it impossible to correctly operate a thermostat.
“It’s not the pilot light,” she repeated for the third time, trying to keep her voice sweet and gentle. She knew from experience that the landlord responded better to sweetness, but it was exhausting playing into the man’s archaic notions of gender roles. In his world, women were soft and nurturing and just didn’t have the capacity to understand mechanical things.
Are you sure the pilot light is on?
Oh, geez. That’s the blue flame, isn’t it? I see it burning, so it must be working, right?
Well, sweetheart, it is very cold, so the house isn’t going to feel like the Bahamas, you know.
What baloney.
They had this exact conversation so many times, she knew nothing would happen. She’d have to withhold the rent or get one of those tenants’ rights places involved. It’d be easier to just move when her lease came up for renewal in the spring.
Enough of this nonsense.
Odessa cleared her throat. “Look, if you want all the pipes to burst from the cold, that’s on you. I’m not paying rent for someplace I can’t live,” she said in her I’m-the-boss voice.
Mads grabbed the phone. Normally she’d fume to have a man step in and fix her problem without even asking, like she was a helpless damsel, but her landlord was the type of person who’d only listen to another man.
“Hello? Yes. I checked it out and it’s totally dead.” Mads paused. “Well, when it’s working, it’s loud as fuck.” Another pause. “Look, that furnace is ancient. How old is it? Thirty years? They only have a lifespan of twenty, if that.” He paused again. Odessa was itching to hear the other half of the conversation. “All right. I appreciate that. She can stay with me tonight but if this drags on, I’ll send you a bill for lodging.”
He ended the call and grinned. “He’ll send a repair tech out tomorrow, but I suspect you’re getting a new furnace.”
“Thank you!” She tossed her arms around him. “I shouldn’t be so happy my landlord is a sexist old jerk who won’t listen to a woman but thank you.”
“With great penis comes great responsibility.”
She rolled her eyes. Honestly. “I cannot believe you just said that, ya massive nerd.”
Was he flirting? It felt like he was flirting.
“How about you stay over at my place tonight?” he said, his voice low and tempting.
Yeah, he was flirting.
“Oh, spending the night at a boy’s house.” Dang if she wasn’t blushing.
“I have heat.” He waggled his eyebrows, ruining any chance of seduction.
Odessa snorted in amusement. “Such a man of the world. Do you have electricity and indoor plumbing too?”
“Don’t get carried away. You wouldn’t want to get spoiled by all this luxury.”
“Let me get my jim-jams. Can you carry over the groceries?”
“Are you cooking?” He peered into the paper bag.
“Stop peeking. Now carry heavy items for me, man.”
“Alas, it is all I’m good for,” he said with a dramatic sigh.
Odessa tossed together an overnight bag with pajamas, fresh clothes for the morning, and a toothbrush. She hesitated at the package of condoms; a fresh box recently purchased as the last box flew past the expiration date years ago.
Did she want to have sex tonight? Yes. Would she? Maybe. She shaved her legs that morning, so some part of her was prepared to be naked. She wasn’t sure if sex was on the table or not. Heck, she wasn’t even sure if Mads was her boyfriend now.
God, that awful term again.
She threw the condoms in the bag. If she needed them, great. If not, no worries. Better safe than sorry.
“Ready?” She shouldered the bag and double-checked that the oven had been turned off.
Despite living adjacent to the rental cabin for five years, she had never actually been inside. The vacationers who could afford lakefront property with a private dock didn’t exactly make friends with the townies. They stayed in their high-priced luxury cabin and she stayed in her dumpy little mid-century house with peeling paint and no view of the lake.
Trees obscured the expensive rental property. From her front porch, the glow from the house peeked through the trees. In the summer, she could hear the music and laughter from cookouts.
They cut through the trees, crossed the road that separated the million-dollar houses from the humble shacks, and entered through the front door. The front opened directly into a central great room with an open ceiling and the entire back wall composed entirely of glass, for maximum view of the lake. Heavy timber trim gave the glass the impression of craftsman-style windows. Double doors opened directly onto a stone patio and the path that led to the water and dock.
The interior of the house was sleek and modern and so different from the rustic hominess of her own house that she didn’t want to touch anything. A large leather sectional surrounded the fieldstone fireplace. The mantle, a heavy timber, matched the beams arching above the room. She hesitated to call it the living room because fancy houses had sitting areas, conversation zones, and entertainment rooms.
A gigantic artificial tree dominated the open space. It twinkled with pre-installed lights and go
lden ornaments. A garland of poinsettias twisted up the tree in a thick scarlet ribbon. The tree was gorgeous, like something right out of a magazine. A matching poinsettia garland made graceful swoops over the windows and twisted up the banister.
“Did you do that?” she asked, pointing to the tree.
He barely looked. “The property manager put it up a few weeks ago.”
She held up her bag. “Can I borrow your shower? I got gross and sweaty at work today.”
“Absolutely.” He showed her where to find towels in the master bathroom. The shower was the glass enclosure kind with a rain-style showerhead, totally fancier than her pink tile bathroom.
The heat and steam of the shower washed away the stress of the day. She no longer smelled of sweat, the coffee she spilled at breakfast, and the onions, because she always stank of onions after handling them.
Toweling her hair dry, she dressed quickly and resisted the urge to poke around Mads’ bedroom. It was a calm, serene space in creams and tans. The bed looked stiff and starched, like no one had ever slept in it. Actually, the entire room resembled a hotel room expecting a guest.
She grinned and brushed out her wet hair.
The kitchen had been outfitted in the latest in stainless steel professional-grade appliances. Judging from their sparkling appearance, no one used them. Expensive black granite countertops went on for miles without a speck of dust. The floor, unforgiving polished white tile, sparkled under the wrought iron light fixture and soft under cabinet lighting.
The house tried so hard for rustic coziness with the cream and stone color palette and missed the mark, veering into cold and clinical. It had no personality, just generic landscapes with a majestic stag staring off in the distance. The entire decorating scheme was perfect. She had no doubt that every room would be tasteful and unobjectionable with lush fabrics and comfy furniture.
It was boring. Mainly what made the house bland and overly perfect, she noticed, was the lack of personal effects. Not even a stray T-shirt on the floor or a pair of shoes at the door. The entire house was as barren as a hotel.
Odessa laid out the ingredients. She had planned for a simple and impressive meal of steak, roasted potatoes with rosemary, and green beans with almond slivers. “Do you have olive oil and a cast iron pan?”
They worked together, Mads searching for barely-used cookware in cabinets, and Odessa chopping the potatoes.
“Interested in dinner and a movie?” he asked, watching her assemble the meal.
“Only if it has a lot of swears and explosions. If I have to watch one more episode of that little pony cartoon, I’ll scream.”
“I think we can handle gratuitous violence and explicit language.”
“So grown up.” She fed him a sliver of almond, pushing the piece into his mouth. His lips clamped down, trapping her finger and he licked the length before he released her with a grin.
“Delicious,” he said.
Desire, warm and soft, coiled in her stomach.
Okay. Sex was totally on the table.
They sat on the enormous sofa, plates balanced on their laps as they ate, and watched a film on the flat screen above the mantle. At first, Odessa was overly aware of her body, her breathing, everything. This felt different, like the next step, and she wasn’t entirely sure it was the correct step.
Something buzzed. Mads removed a phone from his pocket and set it down on the coffee table.
“You got a new phone?” She meant to search for his missing phone but hadn’t had the time yet.
He shrugged. “The screen is cracked on the old one.”
She eyed the glossy, top-of-line new phone and felt a touch of envy that Mads could drop so much money replacing a phone he hadn’t even tried to look for. Her old phone—ugly with the glass shattered on the back—kept working, despite being an older model when she got it two years ago. One day she’d be able to spend money to replace a functional but aesthetically unpleasing phone without guilt or researching the best prices, but that day remained a long way off.
She carried the plates into the kitchen. Mads waited in the doorway, arms folded over his chest, a hungry grin on his face, looking at her like she was dessert.
“Mistletoe,” he said, pointing up.
So it was.
She licked her lips. He leaned in.
“Wait,” she said, pressing her hands flat against his chest. “What are we doing?”
Chapter 15
Mads
“If it’s not obvious, we’re doing something wrong,” he said.
“No, seriously. What is this?”
“Are you asking what my intentions are, Miss Muller?”
“I guess I am.” Odessa leaned against the doorframe. “The last few weeks have been fun.”
“Absolutely.”
“I feel—I don’t know. Lighter,” she said. “Did you know that people at the store have been teasing me about smiling so much?”
“Sounds like a good problem to have.”
She gave him a speculative look. “Maybe, but I can’t do casual. It’s not me. So, I need to know if this is just fun for you or if it means something more.”
“You are everything.” He could not say it more plainly, yet she still frowned.
“The last time you kissed me, I didn’t see you for a decade. I can’t do that to myself again if you’re just going to leave again.”
“I will always be by your side. No force in the universe will make me leave you. Never again.” If anyone stood in their way, he’d gore them with his antlers and let their blood cover him as a warning to others who would deny him his mate. Awareness flitted through his mind that such thoughts were barbaric and exactly what his father had warned him against. Bonding to a primitive human would eventually make him barbaric.
Such a realization should have cautioned him to control his emotions, to shy away from humans and their blindingly brilliant auras, but he was too far gone. He had never fit in with reilendeer society and only had apathy for those who tried to make him fit.
He fit with Odessa. She was his home.
“Odessa—”
She shook her head. A troubling green settled in her aura, driving away happiness as it pushed the gold to the edges. “You don’t understand. Last time you left, it nearly broke me. I fell into a depression. Stopped going to classes. The fact that I didn’t fail my second semester took a miracle. My parents didn’t want me to go back in the fall. They thought I couldn’t handle it.” She paused, searching for the correct words. “I can’t fall apart like that again. Ruby needs me. So, tell me now that you’re going to stay.”
“I am here. I will not leave,” he swore. His heart hurt when he thought of the pain his mate suffered. Their mate bond was half-formed at best, but the emotional connection was real and went deep, to the core of his being. As soon as Karl found a way to neutralize the trackers grafted to his nervous system, his promise would be reality.
She gave a thin, cold smile. “You’re already leaving, Mads.”
He ran his hands through his hair and growled in frustration. His antler bubs throbbed. They had ached for days, but the current need clouded his judgment. Displaying his antlers to his mate almost seemed like a good idea. “I am standing before you, Odessa. I am not leaving.”
“Bullshit. Everything about this,” she waved broadly, “screams that you’re going to cut and run.” She took a hasty breath and continued, “I know how much this house rents for and I know it’s a short-term rental only. You’re spending a fortune for what, a month or two? You’re not staying. God, it doesn’t even look like you live here.”
“Karl acquired this cabin for me,” he said. The money did not concern him, and he never considered the short-term nature of the lease to be a problem until that moment. “I have spent every available moment with you. I have dedicated myself to learning about you and your life. I want to build a future with you.”
His voice remained calm, but his antlers demanded to be displayed. Vaguely
he wondered if that was a primitive instinct to dominate a troublesome mate and subdue them. The notion disturbed him. Female reilendeer had antlers and could fight off an aggressive male, but Odessa did not. His antlers could seriously harm her.
“We always talk about me, or Ruby, or you trying to get my complete dating history out of me. Spoiler: it’s pretty empty because none of them were you. But you never tell me anything about you.”
“I have told you what I can.”
She tossed her hands in the air and huffed. “There! I don’t need your deep, dark secrets but do you even have a job, Mads? Tell me that much.”
“I have a job.” Truth.
Another frustrated huff. “Right there. What kind of job, Mads? You never go to an office, so do you work from home? Or is it something shady?” She tugged at the cuffs of her sweater, breaking eye contact. “I need to know who you are.”
He growled in frustration. “You know who I am.”
“Now. Who are you now?”
“I’m a bounty hunter,” he said.
Her eyes went wide. “Seriously? Are you tracking someone? Is that why you’re back in town?”
“Technically, yes, but it is my last contract.” He stepped closer to her, his hand stroking along her arm. “I do not intend to leave again. That is the truth.”
“Are you a hitman?”
“I—no, I am not.” Her question surprised him. “Why would you think that?”
“Because this place has zero personality. It’s like a ghost lives here.” Her teeth worried her bottom lip. “Have you ever killed anyone?”
“I’ve been in situations where I’ve had to shoot people, but I have never intentionally killed anyone. I aim for the shoulder or the leg.”
She held his gaze to judge the veracity of his statement. Eventually, she nodded. “Okay.”
The Alien Reindeer’s Bounty (A Winter Starr Book 6) Page 13
