Reaper's Stand

by Joanna Wylde

  I tugged away, staring down at my food.

  “Hey, don’t worry,” he said lightly. “You think too much, Loni. Just enjoy the moment, okay?”

  “Okay. So … Maybe we should make a plan. How about I come over to your place on Friday? We could fix dinner and maybe watch a movie or something.”

  “I like the ‘or something’ option,” he said, eyes sparkling.

  I stirred my ketchup with a fry, pretending I had to consider the suggestion carefully.

  “Yeah, that’ll work.”

  He leaned forward to kiss me properly, right in the middle of the restaurant. Our silly waitress started clapping. Ugh. Had I ever been that young and romantic?

  No. I hadn’t.

  Amber had been the romantic, always chasing her dreams, right up to the point where she fell down a rabbit hole and never found her way out. I’d been trailing after her ever since, doing damage control.

  Maybe it was time for me to chase some of my own dreams. Starting with Nate.

  I deserved a little happiness.

  Why the hell am I here?

  I stood on Reese Hayes’s porch later that afternoon, questioning my sanity. Jessica would just get herself in trouble again—I hadn’t solved anything, just delayed the inevitable. The relaxed glow I’d carried from my lunch with Nate had evaporated the minute I pulled up to the house, replaced with a sort of horrible anxiety and excitement about seeing Hayes again all mixed together in my stomach.

  Of course that could’ve just been the fries I’d eaten for lunch.

  Yeah. Right.

  The big biker met me at the door with a lazy smile guaranteed to melt the panties right off a girl. Faded jeans hung low on his hips and an old T-shirt did far too little to hide the bulk of his muscles. Those ice blue eyes of his missed nothing, sweeping down my figure to take in the baggy shirt and hole-filled jeans I’d deliberately chosen to wear this afternoon. Possibly the least sexy outfit in human history and that was no coincidence.

  There would be no repeats of the weekend’s unfortunate events in the hallway.

  Reese’s mouth quirked and his face held none of the intimidating coldness of the last time I’d seen him. Nope, today he was pretending to be a seminormal human being, but only partially succeeding. I knew what was under the surface—a hard man who wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever he needed to do to get his way. Unfortunately, my lady parts stopped listening to my brain right after the “hard man” part, because they were less focused on the work ahead and more focused on remembering how his mouth had felt on mine.

  “Glad you could fit me into your schedule,” he said slyly as I stepped inside. I bit my tongue. Literally. I couldn’t afford to make him mad for any number of reasons, not least of which was the fact that the MC was my best-paying client. If I got the strip club contract, they’d be the biggest, too. All cash. I might not be suffering for work—but there’s work and there’s work. The club wasn’t afraid to pay well in exchange for good service, and they didn’t cheap out when it came to getting what they wanted. Expanding to take on their account would be worth the hassle.

  But business aside, I was also pretty sure that if Reese got angry enough, bad things might start happening. Stabby, shooty things. I based this on the impressive display of collectible knives and guns hanging over the mantel in the living room.

  “Nice weapons,” I muttered, eyes wide. He laughed.

  “Most of those were my dad’s,” he said. “Although I’ve picked up a few along the way myself, too.”

  Lovely.

  I turned to face him, offering my most businesslike smile.

  “Can you show me around the house?” I asked. “I’d like to get a feel for the place, see how much work I have ahead of me. I have five hours before I need to pick up Jess.”

  “She doing okay?”

  Hmm … How to answer that? I met his gaze, wishing his eyes weren’t so bright and blue. It wasn’t fair for a man to have muscles like that and such gorgeous eyes. And those lips, all framed in just a scruff of beard …

  “She’s angry at me and angry at the world,” I said finally. “And I said something stupid to hurt her feelings, which didn’t help things. Hard to know what direction we’re going.”

  “You wanna talk about it?”

  That startled me. I coughed, looking away. Why on earth would he offer to talk to me about Jessica? Second man to ask today, I realized, thinking back to Nate at lunch. Great. I was surrounded by sexy men and all they wanted to do was discuss my shitty parenting techniques.

  “No. Let’s just get this done, okay?”

  He raised a brow, holding up his hands in amused surrender.

  “Works for me,” he said. “C’mon.”

  We started by going up the narrow stairs to the second floor, which had three bedrooms and a bathroom. The place was old, a farmhouse built at least a hundred years ago, and wasn’t anything fancy—just comfortable and homey. Colorful rag rugs covered wooden floors, and two of the bedrooms obviously belonged to his daughters. The third held a guest bed.

  I figured it said something positive about him that he hadn’t boxed up their things or redecorated when they moved out.

  Guess nobody is all bad.

  The homey vibe continued downstairs, despite the display of weaponry in the living room. The dining room held a china cabinet full of things that must’ve been Heather’s. Pictures covered the walls and there were even some plants, although they weren’t looking particularly healthy at the moment.

  I wondered if his daughter had been the one to take care of them?

  The plants weren’t the only things suffering from neglect. Dust had settled on most of the surfaces, water spots covered the faucets, and the kitchen garbage seemed to be full of paper plates and old carryout containers. A few unwashed glasses sat in the sink … no other evidence that any cooking had taken place in the past month.

  “I take it you eat out a lot?”

  “Busy life. Bedroom is back here.”

  The bedroom.

  Don’t be a dork, I told myself. You’ve cleaned hundreds of strangers’ rooms over the years and it’s no big deal.

  “I need to get my supplies,” I said, chickening out. I’d look at his bedroom later, after I got the rest of the house whipped into shape. Thankfully it shouldn’t be that hard a job—there might be a lot of dust, but the place wasn’t filthy. I got the impression he didn’t spend much time there at all, which had to limit the mess.

  “You need help carrying anything?” he asked, trailing me to the door.

  “Nope. In fact, it will be easier for me if you go away for a couple hours.”

  He studied me speculatively, and I rolled my eyes.

  “What do you think I’m going to do—steal your guns? I don’t even like guns. It’s going to be noisy and dusty and you’ll be in my way.”

  Hayes gave a startled snort, and I realized he was holding back a laugh. Okay. That was better than him menacing me.

  “I’ll be out in the shop,” he said. “Come find me if you have any questions.”

  “Sure thing,” I replied, taking another quick look around.

  The sooner I got this done the better.

  Nearly three hours later I’d scrubbed, dusted, wiped, and washed the entire house. Not deep cleaning—no windows—but the surfaces were dirt-free and sanitized, the carpets were vacuumed, and the dust bunnies had been executed for crimes against humanity.

  Now all that remained was the back addition where he slept, which I’d saved for last. Why? I have no idea. I guess it just felt too intimate, and I didn’t want to get any closer to him than I needed to. This was crazy, because I’d cleaned bedrooms through the years and never felt more than mild curiosity about their residents.

  Get over yourself.

  Walking into his room was like entering a different world. It was all new construction, so that was a big contrast right there, but the place was sparse and barren, too. Modern furniture, and not much of it. A
dresser and an entertainment center with a giant flatscreen on it. Mirrored panels covering big double closet doors. A slider opened out the back, hung with heavy, dark curtains that weren’t quite black but weren’t quite anything else, either.

  And the bed? Wowza.

  Reese Hayes had a bed big enough for six people, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d had that many in here a time or two. The image of him lying back on it, naked and beckoning took my breath away for an instant. Down, hormones! Silky black sheets covered it, another modern touch deeply out of sync with the rest of the house. It felt like some sort of dark den, which I supposed it was. He’d obviously erased any hints that his wife had ever slept in here.

  “Now that’s depressing,” I muttered softly to myself.

  “What’s depressing?”

  I jumped, adrenaline spiking as I whirled to find the man himself watching me. He leaned against the door frame, his big arms crossed, which flexed the muscles in a way that sent a thrill down my spine.

  “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

  Hayes cocked a brow, and I realized I’d yelled at him.

  “Sorry,” I said quickly, remembering how he’d responded to Jessica’s blowup. I didn’t have any reason to believe he’d be dangerous, at least not under these circumstances. That didn’t mean I should feel comfy and safe around him, though.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said quietly. “But what did you mean by that comment?”

  Love that deer-in-the-headlights feeling. I tried to think, come up with some kind of safe lie, but the truth came out instead and it was horrible.

  “It’s depressing because it’s obvious that you removed every trace of Heather from your room.”

  He froze, and for the first time I saw something like real emotion on his face. He looked … stunned. Like he couldn’t believe I’d actually said that.

  Fair enough. I couldn’t quite believe it, either.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. He turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

  Well played, London. Kick the widower in the emotional balls. Classy. What the hell was wrong with me?

  I turned back and set down my supply bucket. Might as well get to work, because there was no way I’d be leaving this room any time soon. I didn’t think I’d be able to face him for a while … I walked into the bathroom and flipped on the light, looking around. Oh, dear God. It was disgusting. Not moldy or anything, but really obvious that it hadn’t seen a good cleaning in weeks, maybe even months. Much worse than the bathroom upstairs had been, but I guess that made sense. Nobody lived up there anymore.

  He’d have plenty of time to forgive me before I’d get out of here, I realized. My phone buzzed.

  JESSICA: Getting done an hour early and need ride.

  I rubbed my temple, frustrated. I’d never finish this in one shot, and now I had even less time, unless I made Jess walk home from the community center. Knowing my luck, she’d pick up a bunch of new friends along the way and bring them back to the house for a party …

  Wonderful.

  President Friendly and I would need to schedule at least one more session, which meant more time spent with him than I’d ever imagined when we struck our deal. And that was before I insulted him about his dead wife in their bedroom.

  Jessie is worth it, I reminded myself. This is nothing. Just get to work and keep your mouth shut. Think about Nate and Friday night. With any luck, you’ll go back to seeing Reese Hayes once or twice a month from a safe distance.

  Just the way it should be.

  I was only partially finished with the bathroom when my phone timer went off, reminding me to pick up Jess. I packed up my supplies and looked around in dissatisfaction.

  At least the toilet was clean.

  Walking past his freshly changed bed, I tried not to think about how soft and comfortable that silky fabric would feel against my skin … I suspected it would be fabulous, especially if his body was covering mine and I got to taste those lips of his again. My cheeks warmed, and I wondered how—exactly—I’d gone from being a sensible, responsible woman to one who could lust after two men in one day.

  I tried to think of a way to blame that one on Jessica, but not even I could pull it off. I had to own up to the facts—I’d become a perv. I guess all those articles about women hitting their sexual peak in their thirties hadn’t been exaggerating.

  When I entered the kitchen, I heard voices from the living room.

  Hayes and a woman. I smelled food, too. Pizza. The hot-cheese-and-tomato scent wafting toward me was heavenly. I’d worked up an appetite, which I guess was one good thing about my job. I burned plenty of calories on a daily basis, no question of that.

  As I approached the living room, I could see the back of Hayes’s head from where he sat on the couch. A woman straddled him, facing me. For one horrid, wretched moment I thought I might be about to walk in on him having sex again. She glanced up at me, curiosity written all over her face, saying something to him I couldn’t quite make out. He pushed her off gently. Thankfully, she was fully clothed.

  “So,” I said, walking into the room, feeling unspeakably awkward. An open box of pizza sat on the coffee table, along with two open beers and a couple of empties.

  Hayes stood, his thick thighs and heavy arms even sexier than I remembered, which seemed rather unfair. His companion gave me a friendly smile. She was young, cute, and apparently nice, too. Girls like that are the worst. I had a feeling I looked disgusting, and knowing my luck, I probably didn’t smell too good right now, either.

  Oh, and old. I felt old.

  “I’m almost done with your bathroom,” I said, realizing I should apologize for what I’d said earlier. I just didn’t know how. “But not quite. I’ll need to come back.”

  “I can be here tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I can’t. But I can come on Wednesday.”

  “Wednesday isn’t good for me. Tomorrow.”

  “No, I can come on Wednesday,” I repeated. “I have to take Jess over to the hospital in Spokane tomorrow. She has an appointment with a specialist and it’s not like you can just reschedule those.”

  He frowned.

  “What does she need to see a specialist for?”

  “That’s her business,” I replied, straightening myself. “I appreciate your help the other night, but that’s not a license to invade our privacy.”

  The girl’s eyes went wide.

  “I need to go get something out of my car,” she said quickly. I started forward, deciding retreat was the better part of valor, but Hayes stood in my way. The man was like a brick wall. A really frustrating brick wall. I tried to slip past him, but he wrapped one big hand around my upper arm, stopping me. Shoot. I’d forgotten to be afraid of him.

  This was a mistake, because he could turn on scary just like that.

  “What’s up with your girl?” he asked again, his voice soft. “I know she’s a wild kid, but this sounds like more.”

  I stared at his broad chest, refusing to meet his eyes. He wore a torn T-shirt that had seen better days, and it didn’t do much to hide the latent strength of his muscles or just how easily he could hold me here indefinitely. Not only that, he smelled good. So unfair.

  “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “Do you need help, London?” he asked. “You work for us now. If there’s a problem, you should tell me. Even if there isn’t, I should know if you’ve got something big going on. Everything that touches the club is my business.”

  I snorted. Now he was interested in learning more about our lives?

  “It’s nothing important,” I replied, forcing my voice to stay smooth, because it wasn’t nothing and never would be. “We just need to get her checked out. But I can come back on Wednesday right after lunch. Would that work for you?”

  He studied me a moment longer, then slowly rubbed his hands up and down my arms before letting me go. This was fortunate, beca
use I’m pretty sure I got goose bumps and the last thing I needed was him figuring out how I reacted to his touch.

  “I won’t be here on Wednesday,” he said. “But I can program in a code for you to use. I’ll text it to you in the morning, sound good?”

  “Fantastic,” I said, feeling almost desperate to get away. “You’re busy, I don’t want to keep you. Night!”

  I darted out the door before he could respond, then stopped on the porch. Shit. As much as I wanted to get the hell away, I needed to apologize. What I’d said about his room and Heather had been so wrong on so many levels … I turned to face Reese, meeting his eyes directly.

  “That comment about your bedroom? That was wrong. I have no right to say anything about your home or your room—or your wife. I’m sorry. It was thoughtless and hurtful.”

  Reese didn’t respond right away, just studied my face. Then he nodded his head slowly. Good enough for me, so I turned and moved quickly toward my van. The woman I’d seen inside leaned against her car, smoking and watching me with openly concerned eyes.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine,” I said. “No worries.”

  She shrugged, throwing down the butt and twisting it under her foot. She walked back to the house as I loaded my supplies. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her go to Reese. He guided her into the house, shutting the door behind them. I started to climb into my vehicle, then glanced over at the butt on the dirt.

  Leave it.

  I couldn’t. Being a neat freak is a curse sometimes, but darned if I could just drive away and leave that nasty little thing lying there. I gave the house a quick glance to make sure I was all clear before stomping over to pick it up. Clutching it carefully between two fingers, I carried it around the side of the house to the trash can.

  It took two seconds to toss it in, and then another for a quick squirt of hand sanitizer from the little tube in my pocket.

  Better.

  So what if I couldn’t control Jessica and I felt awkward and uncomfortable around Reese? At least that particular cigarrette butt wouldn’t pollute anything today. I decided to count it as a victory.