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“What do you do when you’re not busy trying to control everything?”
“I cook,” she said, waving a hand at the stove, “listen to classical music, read … Nothing exciting.”
“Hmm,” he said, tossing tomatoes in a bowl and glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “Watch your neighbors through your windows?”
She looked away, torn between guilt and embarrassment, but he was smiling, so she settled on a lighthearted response. “Only the suspicious ones,” she teased.
He winked at her, and heat skimmed its way under her skin, unfamiliar in its intensity, and the blood rushed to her cheeks. The control she clung to so tightly, the iron grip that she held over herself and her more vulnerable emotions, wobbled dangerously and her heart stumbled in its place.
What was it about him that made her feel so off balance? The edge of danger that she couldn’t quite pin down or the boyish charm that she couldn’t quite ignore?
The question lingered in her mind as they ate, Ethan keeping the conversation flowing by telling her how he’d picked Winston because he’d been the smallest and weakest, the runt of his litter. Jackson and David had been right, he was kinder and less difficult than her first impressions of him had led her to believe. It softened her, the unexpected gentleness of him, and she was reluctant to leave when the time came.
He seemed relaxed when he walked her back to her door, but her heart was fluttering. She’d been comfortable with him, content to watch the way his mouth curved around his words when he talked, and the connection between them had been easy and immediate.
It wasn’t easy for her to admit, but as he walked up the steps toward her front door she was forced to consider that maybe part of the reason she had been determined to dislike Ethan was because a small piece of her really wanted to like him. It was a worrisome thought, one that kicked off all her heightened warning instincts again. She’d never been quick to like or to trust and Ethan wasn’t just a stranger with mysterious habits and, perhaps, dangerous friends. He was an attractive man that didn’t back down from her prickly exterior and was persistent in flirting with her.
It wasn’t that she never entertained men. Certainly she had for a night or two when the opportunity presented itself for something safe, with a man that seemed as boring as he was trustworthy. But Ethan wasn’t safe—he wasn’t boring or trustworthy—and the excitement that ran along under her skin when he looked at her made her wary. Better to think he was a threat than to think too hard about what else might be going on.
She paused with her hand on the knob, ingrained manners taking over and causing her to fight the urge to run inside. The longer she stood here, the greater the chances one of them would get some bad ideas about how to say goodbye, but she had never been the kind to be rude when it wasn’t called for. “Thank you for dinner.”
“Thank you for rescuing my dog,” he said with a grin, stepping closer until she was peering up at him from under her lashes and she could smell the gentle waft of cologne and the unique scent of his skin.
Her eyes fluttered down to settle on his mouth and instead of stepping back to safety and sanity, she tipped her chin up in welcome. Her heart was pounding and her breath was painfully shallow, all her attention focused on his lips and their slow descent …
She jumped when a car door slammed, both of their heads turning when a cold voice shouted, “Callaghan!”
Dylan and Myles stood beside Dylan’s sleek black car, which she knew cost at least three times as much as her own, more sensible sedan.
Ethan rocked onto his toes, a dangerous look crossing his face before he turned back to smile down at her, his face softening again as he stepped back. “They’ve got the worst timing. I guess I’ve got to go. An appointment I forgot about.”
“This late?”
He flashed her a smile as Dylan called his name again. “Just a little bit of business.”
“Business? Is this about that job you and Dylan keep talking about?”
His eyes darkened and flashed menacingly toward Myles, before returning to meet her gaze intently. “I told him to keep his fucking voice down,” he muttered. “What do you know about that?”
“Nothing really,” she said, her hand tightening on the doorknob. “Just that you were working on a job together.”
“Stay away from Dylan,” he demanded. The soft, easy-going man she’d had dinner with was gone. His eyes were like ice and his voice was just as cold. “Don’t go snooping in his business, either. It’s not safe for you.”
“I wasn’t snooping.” She glared up at him, refusing to back down in the face of his sudden bad temper. “Besides, if he’s so dangerous then why do you still work with him?”
“I don’t have time to explain this now. Just go inside and remember what I told you.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but she folded her arms across her chest and turned away, refusing to look at him. “Damn it,” he swore. “We’ll talk about this later.” With that he was gone, striding quickly across the yard, every line of his body tense as he closed the distance between himself and the others.
Five
Ethan dropped his keys on the table beside the door and made his way to the fridge. “Beer?” He didn’t know why he asked when he already knew the answer and he handed two over his shoulder before grabbing one for himself. There was still almost a full twenty-four pack in there, but the rest of their crew for this job would be arriving any minute—distant friends of some guy Ethan had known for a bit in high school—and they’d have him cleaned out before the night was over.
Between him and Dylan they had enough friends of friends they’d grown up around to keep from having to reuse the same people too often. A perk of staying close to your childhood stomping grounds, he supposed, though that wasn’t the reason he stayed. He may have lost the only part of his family that mattered when his mom died, but he’d still managed to put down roots. New Orleans was home and he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. He was protective of home and family and everything that it stood for.
It was one reason he would’ve preferred they had this meeting anywhere else instead of at his house, but he’d been outvoted. The bar Dylan owned—a run-down hole in the wall place called Tough Break—was off limits for planning sessions because there were too many prying ears and Ethan’s new house, though a bitter inheritance, was a better choice than Dylan’s.
Cops were nosy in lots of places but quiet, gently prosperous neighborhoods like this one weren’t usually on that list. They wouldn’t be drawing any attention to themselves here, and that was one less thing they had to worry about. Bad memories aside, the house was useful enough that handing it down to him was one thing he could be grateful to his grandfather for.
Ethan wasn’t particularly sorry he’d had to die to do it.
