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“Yes.” Oh my God, that came out way more breathless than it should have. Heat crept into her cheeks.
He slowly removed his sunglasses and hung them from the neck of his T-shirt. His dark brown, almost black, eyes, surrounded by thick black lashes a woman would kill for, traced every inch of her face.
“Do I have dirt on my face or something?” she whispered, her hand coming up automatically to wipe away whatever it was.
“No,” he said almost as softly.
“Then what are you looking at?”
“You.”
Thump. Thump. Thump.
She wasn’t sure if that was her heart or her pussy making her body thump like that. “I’m... fine.”
“Not why I was lookin’.”
“Why were you looking?” And still looking? And causing a flutter in her belly?
“Appreciate beautiful things.”
She had watched his full lips carefully form each of those words.
“Me?” got caught in her throat. He was calling her beautiful?
“You.”
Damn it, he must be a player. “Um... thank you?” She hated men who thought they could manipulate women easily, simply with compliments and pointed looks.
She’d be disappointed if he was like that. He didn’t seem to be yesterday.
Today?
Maybe it was because Cassie Lange wasn’t with him.
Wait.
She hadn’t put two and two together. Was Cassie Daisy’s mother?
Crap, that made another connection between the club and the crematorium.
Didn’t matter. Pumpkin had been all that mattered. In truth, both Cassie and Shawn had also been nothing but kind.
She gathered herself and concentrated on the whole reason Shawn had shown up in the first place. Not to give her compliments. Not to make her weak in the knees.
“Come inside. I still need to pay you.” She walked up the steps to her door and held it open for him.
He hadn’t moved from the base of the brick steps. “Cassie said you can mail the check.”
She shook her head. “I can pay you now. Especially since you delivered the ashes so promptly. I can’t thank you enough.”
After a long pause, he took his time climbing the steps but instead of walking through the door, he held it for her, giving one of those little chin jerks toward the interior of her home.
She went ahead and he followed her in. However, the sound of the door latching behind her sent a shock up her spine.
Should she be frightened of being alone with him inside her house?
Honestly, nothing about him scared her. Even the knowledge of why he wore that vest.
She would’ve heard if the biker gang had been wreaking havoc on the town and its citizens. Plus, Manning Grove had a great police department. She couldn’t imagine the chief, who she knew, would tolerate a gang going wild in his town. A town Max Bryson had grown up in and was now raising his own family in, too.
“Where you want it?”
She found it interesting, like she had yesterday, that he spoke slowly and deliberately. Like he thought carefully about each word before speaking.
Not only had that habit caught her attention, so did when he had screwed up his choice of the words time and day. Like he’d gotten confused when he had rushed to answer.
She wanted to ask him about it, but that would be inappropriate.
He was a stranger.
Only here in her home to drop off Pumpkin. In a few minutes he’d be gone and she’d most likely never speak to him again.
Maybe she’d see him around town. Maybe not.
“Mrs. Goodson?”
“Huh?”
“The cremains.” He lifted the box, his face a blank mask.
Was he really laughing on the inside how much of an idiot she was acting? Good lord, he’d turned her stupid.
Only one other man had turned her stupid like that and she’d married him. “Oh... yes. Uh... On the mantel for now, I guess. Let me grab my checkbook.”
“Don’t gotta pay...”
She heard his sigh as she rushed from the entryway into the kitchen where her checkbook was tucked in a drawer. “I know I don’t!” she called out.
When she headed back toward the front of the house with her checkbook and a pen in hand, he no longer stood at the front door. She looked left and saw him standing in front of her gas fireplace. The small carved box had been tucked between two framed photos in the center of the mantel.
He didn’t turn when she approached. He was too busy studying her family photos.
Some of them were of just the two girls. A couple were of her and Brendan. But Shawn’s fingers had connected with the frame holding a photo of her and her daughters, the day Maddie graduated from high school. Not so long ago.
It had been the perfect day weather-wise and all three of them wore huge smiles as bright as the sun. Not an ounce of melancholy could be seen on Chelle’s face, even though she was sad that Brendan couldn’t see the day his oldest daughter graduated high school. Wouldn’t be around to see her graduate from college. Get married. Have their first grandchild...
