Page 69 of Mean Streak


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Emory took Lisa’s blood pressure, but even before she’d removed the cuff, the girl’s head was sunk deep into the pillow and her eyes were closed.

Arching her back to work out the kinks, Emory walked over to the window and looked out. She thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. The sun wasn’t up yet, but there was enough predawn light for her to make out a large form, kneeling down beside the dog, stroking its head, and talking to it with words she was certain didn’t matter to the abused animal. It was responding to the first kind touch it had probably ever experienced. It ate a morsel of food from his hand, then licked his palm in gratitude.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

Emory looked over toward the bed and was surprised to see that Lisa was awake and observing her. “No. We just met.”

“What’s his name?”

“He’s a very private man.”

Lisa studied her for a moment, then said, “You don’t know it either, do you?”

She gave the intuitive girl a rueful smile. “No.”

“I’ve seen him working in his yard when we’ve driven past his place. He always scared me.”

“Why?”

“For one thing, he’s so big.”

“He is.”

“And kinda broody looking. I never saw him smile before last night.”

“He’s not inclined to very often.”

“He smiles at me, though. And at Mama. And at you.”

She had the knowing look of a woman, and Emory realized that she must have witnessed the kiss, the kiss that caused a curling sensation low in her belly every time she thought about it. The kiss that had lulled and electrified her at the same time. She had never felt safer or more endangered.

The emotions were conflicting, yet on one point she was crystal clear: She hadn’t wanted it to end. Despite the situation and the squalid surroundings, she had longed to experience more of his lips, his taste, the bold trespassing of his tongue.

Lisa startled her out of her reverie when she said, “One time, when my brothers dumped a barrel of trash right outside his gate, I told them they were crazy to rile him.”

“I think you’re probably right.” She hesitated, not wanting to place Lisa in an awkward position, but feeling pressured to ask. “Do you know if the three of them have tangled before?”

“Before what?”

“Before he became your neighbor.”

“No. I’m sure of that. I’ve heard Will and Norman talking about him, wondering who he is and what he’s up to. Mama reckons he’s hiding from the law.”

Emory said nothing.

“Or, Mama said, maybe he’s hiding from a wife and kids he ran out on.”

No bride. No wife. Not ever.

“But I don’t think that’s it,” Lisa said. “I’d sooner believe he was an outlaw than a man who deserted his family.”

Emory looked over at her. “Why would you think that?”

“He just don’t seem the type. But something’s going on there. It’s invisible, but you can tell he carries it around with him.”

Silently, Emory agreed.

“If I was guessing,” Lisa continued, “I’d say he has a mean streak a mile wide. He keeps it under control. But if he ever let it loose, look out.”

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