If that damned deer hadn’t startled him, he wouldn’t have made a noise. But once he did, he’d known—just known—that Stack was going to kill him. And it wouldn’t be a quick death. No, Stack would probably enjoy pulverizing him one punch or kick at a time.
He still couldn’t believe the thugs had been so easily stopped. Not that it mattered. They didn’t know who he was. And they had served their purpose—to keep Stack occupied so he could approach Vanity alone.
That hadn’t gone quite as well as he’d hoped. She might be hot as hell, but she wasn’t a pushover. Not completely, anyway. Still, he’d scored some cash. It was a start.
Getting to her now would be trickier. But not impossible. Sucked that he had to sneak around, but the payoff would be worth it.
Sticking to the shadows, in a half-crouching run, Phil got as far from the danger as he could. The pills he’d taken earlier were wearing off. He was no longer as mellow as he needed to be.
Yeah, when Stack had heard the noise, Phil’s damned heart had punched into his throat, obliterating his calm. But he’d liked seeing how quick Vanity turned on. She’d all but melted on Stack the minute the bastard touched her. Tabby used to melt for him like that.
Stack was the one who ruined everything, so he owed him. Since his new lady was rolling in it, she could even Stack’s debt—with cold, hard cash.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
VANITY WANTED TO rush through the meal, but Stack wouldn’t.
She wanted to tidy up the dishes herself, but he insisted on helping.
Obstinate. Considerate.
Wonderful.
“You look good in boots.”
His hands, covered in soapsuds, paused while cleaning the frying pan. In slo-mo, he turned his head to stare at her. “Come again?”
She nodded in the general direction of his backside, which she’d been watching while wiping off the table. “You,” she said. “In those worn jeans and cowboy boots. It’s a good look.”
He snorted and went back to cleaning the pan. “You don’t have to butter me up. Believe me, I’m ready.”
He didn’t act ready. He acted like patience personified. “I’m serious.” She strode up to him, reached her arms around his waist, and dropped the dishrag back into the sink. And now that she was flattened up against him, she hugged him tight.
He went still, his hands again suspended in soapy water.
From the corner of the kitchen, Norwood opened one eye to look at them, then let out a doggy huff and went back to sleep curled up by Maggie.
“I’ll be done in two minutes.”
“Mmm.” She slipped her hands up under his flannel and T-shirt. “I’ll just entertain myself until then.”
“You’re distracting me, and I wanted to talk.”
Right. He was going to explain about his arm. She slid away from him, took the pan and turned off the water. After setting the pan in the dish drainer, she took his hand in one of hers, then gently touched his forearm.
“Vanity?”
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing?”
She looked up at him. It was something of a thrill that he stood so tall. And she hadn’t lied about his wardrobe preferences. She liked his laid-back cowboy vibe, minus a hat. His long muscular legs looked great in jeans and boots. His narrow hips and flat abs made everything look good. And his chest, his shoulders—
A finger under her chin lifted her face. “Vanity?”
“I wanted to check your boo-boo.”
Incredulous, he lifted a brow and said deadpan, “My boo-boo?”
“This.” She brushed her cheek against his forearm, exposed by his rolled-up sleeves. The bruises had already darkened, looking ugly and painful. “Does it hurt?”
“No.”
She knew he had to be fibbing. “You were going to tell me what happened.”
“No, I was going to ask you why you always insist looks don’t matter.”
She opened her mouth but then closed it without saying anything.
Stack just watched her, waiting, making her sigh.
“Fine, but you first.”
Lifting one shoulder, he said, “I got jumped. Now you.”
No freaking way! “What do you mean you got jumped?”
He cracked his head to one side, then the other, and visibly held on to his patience. “It was nothing. Two goons jumped me in front of my sister’s apartment. I beat the snot out of them both, end of story.”
“If you beat the...the snot out of them, then what’s this?” She put her hand protectively over the worst of the bruises.
He still couldn’t believe the thugs had been so easily stopped. Not that it mattered. They didn’t know who he was. And they had served their purpose—to keep Stack occupied so he could approach Vanity alone.
That hadn’t gone quite as well as he’d hoped. She might be hot as hell, but she wasn’t a pushover. Not completely, anyway. Still, he’d scored some cash. It was a start.
Getting to her now would be trickier. But not impossible. Sucked that he had to sneak around, but the payoff would be worth it.
Sticking to the shadows, in a half-crouching run, Phil got as far from the danger as he could. The pills he’d taken earlier were wearing off. He was no longer as mellow as he needed to be.
Yeah, when Stack had heard the noise, Phil’s damned heart had punched into his throat, obliterating his calm. But he’d liked seeing how quick Vanity turned on. She’d all but melted on Stack the minute the bastard touched her. Tabby used to melt for him like that.
Stack was the one who ruined everything, so he owed him. Since his new lady was rolling in it, she could even Stack’s debt—with cold, hard cash.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
VANITY WANTED TO rush through the meal, but Stack wouldn’t.
She wanted to tidy up the dishes herself, but he insisted on helping.
Obstinate. Considerate.
Wonderful.
“You look good in boots.”
His hands, covered in soapsuds, paused while cleaning the frying pan. In slo-mo, he turned his head to stare at her. “Come again?”
She nodded in the general direction of his backside, which she’d been watching while wiping off the table. “You,” she said. “In those worn jeans and cowboy boots. It’s a good look.”
He snorted and went back to cleaning the pan. “You don’t have to butter me up. Believe me, I’m ready.”
He didn’t act ready. He acted like patience personified. “I’m serious.” She strode up to him, reached her arms around his waist, and dropped the dishrag back into the sink. And now that she was flattened up against him, she hugged him tight.
He went still, his hands again suspended in soapy water.
From the corner of the kitchen, Norwood opened one eye to look at them, then let out a doggy huff and went back to sleep curled up by Maggie.
“I’ll be done in two minutes.”
“Mmm.” She slipped her hands up under his flannel and T-shirt. “I’ll just entertain myself until then.”
“You’re distracting me, and I wanted to talk.”
Right. He was going to explain about his arm. She slid away from him, took the pan and turned off the water. After setting the pan in the dish drainer, she took his hand in one of hers, then gently touched his forearm.
“Vanity?”
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing?”
She looked up at him. It was something of a thrill that he stood so tall. And she hadn’t lied about his wardrobe preferences. She liked his laid-back cowboy vibe, minus a hat. His long muscular legs looked great in jeans and boots. His narrow hips and flat abs made everything look good. And his chest, his shoulders—
A finger under her chin lifted her face. “Vanity?”
“I wanted to check your boo-boo.”
Incredulous, he lifted a brow and said deadpan, “My boo-boo?”
“This.” She brushed her cheek against his forearm, exposed by his rolled-up sleeves. The bruises had already darkened, looking ugly and painful. “Does it hurt?”
“No.”
She knew he had to be fibbing. “You were going to tell me what happened.”
“No, I was going to ask you why you always insist looks don’t matter.”
She opened her mouth but then closed it without saying anything.
Stack just watched her, waiting, making her sigh.
“Fine, but you first.”
Lifting one shoulder, he said, “I got jumped. Now you.”
No freaking way! “What do you mean you got jumped?”
He cracked his head to one side, then the other, and visibly held on to his patience. “It was nothing. Two goons jumped me in front of my sister’s apartment. I beat the snot out of them both, end of story.”
“If you beat the...the snot out of them, then what’s this?” She put her hand protectively over the worst of the bruises.
