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She shuffled across the empty garage bay, inspecting all the supplies neatly stored and arranged on the shelves.
“Looks like you’re snowstorm ready. I saw all the firewood and groceries and bottled water.”
I shrugged and went back to tightening the bolts on the snowblower, consciously avoiding her gaze.
She wandered silently, inspecting every item hanging on the wall like she always did. Like every single detail of my garage fascinated her. It was unnerving.
“I hadn’t pegged you as a reclusive mountain man until now. Let me guess: you’re preparing for the apocalypse and ready to live off the land after society falls.”
“Not exactly.”
“You’ve got enough MREs to last ten years, a high-tech water filtration system, and enough batteries to power a medium-sized city. You’re a prepper.”
I looked up at her and wished I hadn’t. She had that look on her face. The mischievous, playful one. Like she knew she was pushing my buttons and she loved every second of it. It made me want to throw her over my shoulder and spank her. Fuck.
Shaking my head, I averted my gaze again. “I like to have a plan. To make sure everything is ready. So many terrible things could be avoided if people just thought ahead.”
She tapped her chin. “Ah. I get it. You think that if you’re prepared enough, you can control the outcome of even the most uncontrollable situations.”
“No. I plan ahead. And it’s not only about me. My mother lives down the road, alone. And she’s elderly.”
She let out a sharp laugh. “She’d kneecap you for even saying that word.”
“I know. But she’s getting older.” God. She was right. If my mom had overheard me, I’d never see another loaf of banana bread. “And Henri and Remy are up by the mountains. And the kids.”
“What about Adele? Do you stock up her place with food and water?”
“I’m not allowed to annoy her about this stuff.”
“Why? I bet there is a story there.”
“One time I came over with flashlights and a container of gas, just in case. She said she’d pour it over my Beamer and light a match if I ever insulted her like that again.”
Parker threw her head back and guffawed. “Shit. I like her so much. Do you think she’ll be my friend? After this is over?”
“Why? You planning on sticking around?” I didn’t know why, but the thought made my stomach flip.
“Of course not.” She twisted her hands in front of her. She was nervous. She hid it well, but that was one of her tells. “I think it’s really nice. How you take care of your family.”
Brows raised, I looked up at her, surprised by her sincerity. “Most people think I’m an asshole.”
“And I used to be most people. But I’ve lived with you long enough to know that the asshole exterior is a front. You’re deeply protective of the people you love. And I think that scares you. So you end up pushing people away.”
For the love of God, she couldn’t just give me a compliment. She had to turn it into some kind of indictment of my character. “Please stop psychoanalyzing me.”
“I’m not. Think of it as… profiling.”
“I’m not a criminal.”
“Not a convicted one, at least.” She held a hand out and turned in a circle. “But all the tarps, duct tape, and batteries belie that assertion.”
Part of me wanted this conversation to end, but the other part relished the idea of sparring with her. So I decided the best thing to do would be to give her a job.
“I need to finish up in here. Can you change the batteries in the flashlights I lined up on the kitchen counter?”
She nodded. “And I’ll make dinner. It’s the least I can do.”
I gave her a firm nod and turned back to the snowblower, but I snuck a quick glance at her ass in those tight leggings as she walked back into the house.
