Page 107 of Kulti


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The familiar knockthat I’d come to associate with Kulti started up at seven-fifteen the next morning. I’d already been awake for almost an hour and a half, finishing up my morning run and making it home to pack my bag before showering so that I could head out on my drive to San Antonio. The last thing I expected was for the German to show up on my doorstep, especially not at seven in the morning.

I grabbed a sweatshirt off the pile of clothes on my bed with every intention of putting it on when the knocking became even more persistent.Impatient ass.I carried it to the door with a sigh, not even bothering to check the peephole.

“Bratwurst?” I asked as I undid the deadbolt again.

“Ja.”

I swung the door wide and started to wave him in, only slowing down my movement when I noticed what he was wearing—a shirt, jeans and scuffed brown leather boots. It was the first time I’d seen him in something that wasn’t workout pants or shorts. Huh. A second later, I noticed something else.

There was a backpack was over his shoulder.

And he was staring at me.

I didn’t miss the tic in his jaw as he looked from the seven-year-old tank top I had on over my sports bra to the stretchy shorts that looked more like underwear than anything else.

I also didn’t miss the way his eyelid started twitching right before his gaze finally slipped upward and the twitching got worse.

“What?” I asked him when he hadn’t moved his body or his gaze.

Those murky green eyes flicked down to what I was wearing again. His voice was too steady and slow. “You open the door half naked all the time?”

Oh dear God. “Yeah, Dad.” I blinked at him and stood off the to the side to give him room to come in. “You coming in—“ I eyed his bag again “—or are you leaving?”

“I’m leaving,” he said even as he walked into my place, still giving my workout clothes this disapproving scowl.

“Where are you going?” I closed the door behind him.

Kulti dropped his bag right by my work boots. “To Austin.”

“Really? Why?” I mean, I liked Austin as much as anyone. I’d been there a hundred times in my life, but it wasn’t my favorite city in the world. I wouldn’t expect this guy to want to spend his days off in Austin when he could afford to go just about anywhere.

The German made his way toward my kitchen and straight to the cupboards, pulling out a mug. “I have an appointment this afternoon.”

Why the first thing I thought he was referring to was plastic surgery, I had no idea. I planted my hands on the counter between us and leaned forward, giving him a disbelieving look. “No.”

He glanced over his shoulder as he found a small pot and began filling it up with water from my fridge. “Yes?”

“Rey, buddy, don’t do it. You’re still really handsome, and honestly you can always tell when someone’s had surgery done to them. I don’t care what the plastic surgeon says, it’s noticeable,” I told him totally seriously.

He set the pot down on the stovetop but he didn’t turn the burner on. His broad shoulders slumped forward as he lifted a hand and pinched the tip of his nose. When he turned around to face me, his eyes were closed and the tip of his tongue was at the corner of his mouth. “Burrito.” He opened one eye. “I’m getting my tattoo worked on.”

“Ohh.” Well, I felt like an idiot.

He nodded, the movement all smart-ass.

“The one on your arm?” It was the only one I knew of.

He nodded again.

Why he was going all the way to Austin when there were about a million tattoo shops in Houston was beyond me, but whatever. “That’s neat. I’m going back home.” I then realized he didn’t know what ‘home’ was to me. “San Antonio. It’s close to Austin.”

Kulti shocked the shit out of me when he said “I know. I’ll pay you a thousand dollars to take me to Austin.”

“What?”

“I will pay you a thousand dollars to take me to Austin.” He gestured with his head toward the bag that had been left by the door. “Gas as well.”

I scratched my nose, trying to make sure he wasn’t joking. My gut said he wasn’t. He definitely wasn’t. “You want me to drive you to Austin for your appointment?” I couldn’t help but ask.

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