Page 46 of Heat Lightning

I scowled back. With barely enough room for us both, his entire front pressed up against me while my back cut into the shelves lining the walls on three sides. My arms wrapped around his middle—because where else was I supposed to put them?—and his were bracketed above my head.

His quiet breaths warmed my neck. God, he smelled good. I pressed closer, inhaling deeply, and he tensed, the leather of his gloves squeaking from his clenched fists. His scent was slightly different from what I remembered. It still held the same notes, but mellowed. Less burnt, and more like a hot summer night watching a distant lightning storm.

Through the wooden slats, Donna’s silhouette crossed the pantry door, followed by the loud hum of a vacuum starting up.

“This is so weird,” I whispered. I felt a bit like the Final Girl in a slasher movie, complete with a strange red glow surrounding us. Except the killer hid in the closet with me, and I had no idea where that light was coming from.

I tipped my head back, looking for the source, and it began to flash in quick pulses.

“It’ll be a whole lot less weird when you take that fucking thing off,” the Masked Man whispered back, right into my ear. “Or she’s going to notice the railroad crossing in the closet.”

Oh, right. The red light mask. Where the hell was my brain today?

I reached one hand up, but my elbow bumped the jar of homemade vanilla extract. It wobbled on the shelf, and my heart plummeted.

In a fire, it was Jeffrey, and then my prized double-fold Madagascar vanilla. I’d die if anything happened to it. Thankfully it steadied, the sound masked by the vacuum, but it was still a close call.

“I can’t reach,” I whispered back. “I’m going to knock something over. You’ll have to do it.”

He sighed. Fumbling with the buttons on the strap, he more or less whacked me in the head trying to shut it off.

It flashed pink. Then blue. Green. Yellow.

A bit dizzy now, I bit my cheek to keep from snickering at the complete disbelief in the Masked Man’s eyes when he hit another button, and it began to strobe between all the settings.

Finally, it powered off. Gently, so as not to tangle the Velcro in my hair, he pulled the mask over my head and set it on the shelf above.

“Never in my goddamn life,” he breathed, but his eyes danced. “What is that thing?”

Unable to help it, a laugh bubbled up. “That’s rich coming from you.”

He stifled a laugh, too. “Mine doesn’t make me look like Rudolph in a snowstorm, nor does it scare people half to death.”

“You’re full of it, if you believe that second part.”

“Did you want to match with me, sweetheart?” He was barely visible in the gloom now that the red light mask was turned off, but I swore his eyes crinkled at the corners.

I scrunched my nose. “Ew, no. Obviously not. It’s red light therapy,” I answered, like I was an expert and hadn’t learned of its existence two hours ago. “It’s relaxing and anti-ageing.”

He snorted, louder than he should’ve. “I seriously doubt that.”

Ugh. He wasn’t allowed to make good points, so I shushed him instead. “Quiet!” I whisper-shouted. “Or she’ll hear you!”

“She won’t, with the vacuum going. Plus, she’s too busy looking over her shoulder for that murderous cat to worry about us.”

“Hey! My cat is not⁠—”

The vacuum shut off, and he clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle my words.

Wide-eyed, I sucked in a breath and was hit with a wall of powerful alpha pheromones. I swayed, wobbley-kneed and gaze hooded.

Woah.

“Easy,” he breathed into my ear, pressing his body against mine even more to keep me upright. You’re alright. You’re safe, his scent said, with an undercurrent of something dark and heady I didn’t have a name for yet.

Was this what the rabbit felt like when the snarling wolf stole it back to its den to keep it safe, instead of devouring it whole?

Although, with the way the Masked Man’s chest rumbled, I wasn’t so sure being devoured was off the table.