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Why the hell didn’t Gran’s letter mention how freaking crazy these people—
My thoughts pause as I glance over to Gran’s bookshelf.
“You said your last name was Vincent? Any chance you have a flag with a tiger on it in your front yard?” I ask curiously.
Reese’s eyes snap over to meet mine immediately.
“That was not Vincent,” she says, eyes darting to the bookshelf and back to me. “That was Vancouer or something.”
“I don’t have a tiger flag,” he answers with a careless shrug, as though that question needs no explanation. “Tigers are lame and overused.”
The door swings open, and my eyes dart to it before widening, as a lump forms in my throat, causing me to forget what we’re even discussing.
The man standing in the doorway is very tall, has short, dark hair that is possibly too short to pull. His beard is neatly trimmed and barely there, and it looks way better on him than I’ve ever seen a beard look. I had no idea beards could actually be so sexy, and I wonder how much I’ve missed out on.
However…he’s slightly terrifying with a few smears of blood on his face and hands, especially since he’s holding a very large, slightly bloody knife.
Normally, this is the part where I’d faint and stuff, but this guy is all too familiar.
In fact, this guy has seen me naked.
I have this guy’s shirt in the dryer.
The shirt he’s wearing now is hugging him just right—not too tight, but tight enough to hint at the hard body under it. Along with the jeans that make me want to see his ass in them…
I’ve wrapped my bare body all over his without realizing just how nice his body is.
And he’s grinning at me like he can see every single inappropriate thought in my head right now. Did I drink the vodka and forget I drank the vodka?
Nope. I didn’t drink it yet. I’m just going insane. There really is something in the water. We’ve showered in radioactivity.
“You look prettier when you’re warm, Popsicle,” he says with a lazy grin, letting his eyes deliberately rake over me the way mine just did him.
I’m definitely freaking warm. I’m not sure if I’m embarrassed, terrified, or simply confused by all the weird reactions he provokes at once with that very memorable, deep, smooth voice I should have immediately placed.
“I’m not sure if you’re complimenting me or not,” I tell him, recovering and clearing my throat, deciding to play this weird date by ear. “But it’s nice to formally meet you, Killian. And thanks for saving my life and stuff.”
Damn, there’s just no way to make this not weird at this point.
He walks across the room, sticking out his blood-tinged hand to shake mine. Swallowing back my bile and making a conscious effort not to be a spoiled brat, I reach out and shake it.
His hand is cold, which makes sense, since it’s ridiculously cold outside, and they keep leaving our door open, which makes it cold inside too.
Forgetting all about my reservations, my mind bounces everywhere as I just stare stupidly into his really dark eyes, wondering something ridiculous and inconsequential, like if they’re considered dark chocolate or not.
“I’m Kai Wilder. Killian doesn’t date,” he says like he’s correcting me and letting me know why he’s here all at once.
The brain freeze seems to thaw more and more, because now I remember his name being Kai.
I blink and pull my hand back, grimacing when I see blood smeared on it. It’d probably seem rude if I ran to the sink to wash my hands the way I desperately want to in this moment.
“I’m Piper Kline,” I say uneasily.
“Dude, wash your hands before shaking hers,” Hale says like he suddenly has some form of etiquette.
My spine relaxes when I realize I get to wash my hands, since Kai is muttering something to the effect of an apology and stalking to the sink like a good barbarian.
Reese still has the towel pressed over her mouth, and I can’t tell if she’s holding in silent laughter or silent sobs. Her eyes have always been impossible to read, but I sort of think she’s laughing. Because she’s evil like that.
She knows how much I hate blood. It’s why I found it hilarious that my parents were surprised I refused to go into medicine like their plan dictated I do.
I hurriedly move to the sink when Kai is finally finished.
“Man…everyone knows you’re supposed to let the chicks go first,” Hale says on an exasperated breath. “She’ll think you go first in the bedroom too, otherwise,” he adds, causing me to choke on air.
I know I hear Reese muffle a snort in that towel of hers she’s cleverly using to hide her face. I’ve spent a great number of years schooling my features so as to never give someone an accidental expression, but tonight I’m failing at a task that is usually fairly simple.
