He set down his sandwich. When his gaze rose, she noted that sitting this close she could see gold flecks intermixed with the brown of his irises. She liked his eyes. Liked how he looked at her. Liked that he was taking in everything.
His gaze slipped to her cheek, and she raised a hand. “Did I get sugar on my cheek again? I’m always such a mess when I bake.”
He reached out slowly, like he was waiting for her pull away, but when she didn’t, he smoothed his thumb over her cheek then took it to his mouth and licked the pad. “Glaze, I think,” he said, his eyes looking somehow smokier now.
She felt warmth in her cheeks and between her legs. “Thanks,” she said, suddenly shy. She’d liked the scrape of his thumb on her skin, and now she was imagining how it would feel on her breasts.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
His voice was pitched low and held a hint of rasp. Something else she liked about him to go along with his short dark hair and the beard that was the perfect length—not so short it looked like some Hollywood actor’s attempt at chic scruff, and not so long it was bushy. She had a distinct preference for just his length of beard, and now she was thinking about how it would feel against her intimate parts.
She met his gaze. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I’ve just…” She paused and wrinkled her nose. “I’ve just been trying to think of a way to see if you’d like to…have one of my sandwiches…with me. And you said yes.” She felt foolish that she’d admitted that. Maybe she’d just scared him off for good, but as she watched his mouth twitch and then stretch, she relaxed.
“I’ve been trying to think of the perfect line to get you to go out with me.”
“Really?” Pleasure sent more heat into her face.
“Yeah.” He relaxed in his chair. “Let’s start over. I’m Dylan Priestley,” he said, reaching across the table.
“Ah. I get the Preacher bit now. I’m Laura Pinchot.”
He held her hand a moment longer than socially acceptable, just long enough she felt his warmth and strength. When he released her, her palm tingled.
“So, will you?”
She blinked.
“Go out with me?”
“Of course,” she said. Of course? She couldn’t have been more enthusiastic. Did he think she was desperate?
He shrugged. “I don’t know what people do around here…on dates.”
“Depends on whether you like the out of doors or staying in. We do have a couple of restaurants—nothing fancy, which is actually how I like it. Or… I could cook you a meal.”
He frowned. “Seems like that’s what you do all day.”
“Baking. I bake here, but I also love to cook. Do you like pasta?”
“Love it,” he said, rubbing his belly.
“Do you like—”
“I like everything. I’m not picky and don’t have any weird food allergies. Whatever you want to make, I’ll eat and be grateful for it.”
They fell silent for a few moments, eating their sandwiches, but now, there was an ease between them that hadn’t been there before. She felt his gaze on her, and she grew comfortable beneath it. He seemed to like what he saw, so she’d stop worrying that maybe she didn’t have the perfect body. Her body suited her perfectly.
“Would you like to come tonight?” she asked.
His eyes blinked and a hint of pink stole across his cheeks. And then she realized how she’d phrased her invitation, and her own cheeks felt like they were on fire.
He chuckled and shook his head. “And now you know how I’ve felt every time I’ve stepped inside this shop. I could never get out the right words.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Well, if you’d like to come to my place tonight for dinner, I’ll try not to embarrass us both too much.”
He cleared his throat. “Just so you know, I have no expectations, other than a good meal with good company. I’d like to get to know you.”
Leaning over the table, she said, “Just so you know, I have very high expectations…”
They both laughed. They finished eating and when he stood and came around to help her with her chair, she felt a little disappointed this impromptu “date” was ending.
When she was standing, she turned to him and gave him a bright smile. “I’ll just write my address down on a card for you.”
He gave a nod and followed her back to the counter.
Just as she began writing her address on the back of her business card, a loud noise sounded—the shattering of glass. They both turned to the front of the store. The large plate glass window that looked out onto Main Street had a section gone from the corner. A rock sat in the middle of glass shards on the floor.
Laura pressed a hand against her chest, shocked at the sight and unable to move.
Preacher didn’t suffer the same condition. “Stay here. Call the cops,” he said, then ran out the door.
Chapter 3
Preacher paused on the sidewalk outside and glanced up and down Main Street. No one was running away. In fact, this side of the street was completely clear of people. He ran to the side of the building and glanced down the alleyway. Nothing. He moved swiftly through the alley to the back of the building and around the other side. Still nothing.
When he returned to Laura’s shop, it was to find her sweeping up the glass on the floor.
“Let me,” he said, and held out his hand.
Her lips firmed, and she shook her head. “You don’t have to. This is my mess to clean up.”
“No, you go sit down. I don’t like how pale you are right now.” And it was true. Her cheeks were chalk white and tears filled her eyes. “Seriously, Laura, go sit.” When she handed him the broom, he quickly went to work, making several trips to the trash can behind the counter then removing the trash to the bin in the alleyway behind the shop he’d spotted when he’d searched the back of the building. When he came back, she was sitting at the table they’d shared, her hands clasped in front of her.
“We really should have called the police first,” he said, kicking himself for not thinking of it sooner. He’d been too concerned about her. He knelt beside her chair and reached for her hands. They were ice cold so he chafed them between his palms, not knowing what to do next to help.
“It’s just weird, you know?” she said, looking straight in front of her. “It’s the third time…”
“Someone broke your window three times?”
She shook her head. “No. I mean, the third time something’s happened. First, someone moved the trash bin outside close to the back door and set it on fire. Sheriff Brown said it was probably kids acting out. Could have happened to anyone. Then…” she drew a shaky breath and turned her face toward him. “Last week, someone broke in the back door and ruined my walk-in freezer. They took an icepick to the inside walls then tossed everything around in the kitchen before they left. It was an awful mess.”
“What did the sheriff say then?” he asked, anger beginning to build inside him.
“That maybe I had pissed someone off. He had me make a list of customers who’d made complaints, but those were all small things. An order that wasn’t right. Someone who’d arrived after I’d locked the door at closing. The list was short, and he had a deputy go around to talk to everyone on it, but he didn’t find anyone who seemed to hold a grudge.”
“Do you have surveillance cameras?” he asked, glancing around and not finding any.
“No, that was something he suggested I get, but I don’t have it in my budget.”
Preacher frowned. Laura was being targeted by someone. She needed cameras and an alarm system. ASAP. But first things first. He pulled out his cellphone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling the sheriff.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “What’s he going to do?”
“The least he can do is have a deputy or two canvass the other businesses along the street to see if they saw something. But there’s a pattern now. Someone�
�s definitely targeting you. We need to find out who to put a stop to it.”
“We?” she said, frowning.
Preacher sighed and lowered his phone. “We, if you’ll let me help. I’m not just a bounty hunter. I’m former Delta Force. I don’t sit still when I see anyone in danger.”
“They haven’t attacked me.”
“But they might escalate. Your business, and you, aren’t safe. Let me do what I do best.”
Her lips twitched. “I doubt protecting a donut shop is what you do best.”
His own mouth stretched at her teasing tone. “It’s not. But I should save a little something to impress you with later.”
She chuckled and then drew up a deep breath. “Since I don’t know how to go about this, I’ll let you take the lead.”
“I knew there was something I liked about you.” Then he couldn’t help himself, he leaned toward her and kissed her mouth. Just a quick peck, then he moved back and winked before standing and lifting his cellphone once again.
Laura blinked kind of dreamily back at him then smiled and glanced away.
He hadn’t blown it by making a move too soon. A good thing, since he was pretty sure he wanted to spend a lot of time getting to know her. It was just too bad some creep was giving him his “in.” He didn’t like that she’d been frightened.
* * *
The sheriff left, promising to assign two deputies to canvass the block. He also said he’d have them ask if anyone had a camera feed they could review to look for anything that appeared suspicious. As well, he said twice might have been a fluke or the work of separate individuals, but three times was most certainly a pattern. He warned her again about improving the security of her shop and being aware of her surroundings whenever she was out and about.
She’d kept the sign on the window turned to closed but that hadn’t stopped people from dropping by the shop to check on her. She’d dispensed donuts and sandwiches while also contacting her insurance guy. When the deputies had been moving around the street, Preacher took the opportunity to hit Dead as a Doornail Hardware to pick up a sheet of plywood, ordered to size, and a hammer and nails.
The man behind the counter ringing him up was short and skinny with stooped shoulders. “You doing some construction?” he asked.
Preacher raised his eyebrows. A sheet of plywood did not constitute construction. Maybe the dude was just trying to be friendly. “I’m going to nail this up over a broken window.”
The man nodded sagely. “Heard about Laura’s donut shop. Damn shame. Hope they catch the kids who done it.”
Preacher handed him his credit card. “Have you ever had that kind of trouble here?”
The man swiped his card and handed it back to him. “No. This is a quiet town. Hardly ever any trouble. Once a bunch of kids lit a bonfire that burned down a barn, but they weren’t being malicious.”
“Can you think of anyone who might hold a grudge against Miz Pinchot?”
“Course not. She makes damn fine donuts, and she’s a big Wild Horse supporter.”
“Wild Horse?”
He nodded. “Our high school football team. She gives to the boosters and caters some of their practices for free.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “I was on varsity back in the day.”
“Oh?” Preacher couldn’t imagine the man playing football. He looked as though a stiff breeze would blow him down. “What position did you play?”
“Tight end. I was fast.” He wrinkled his nose. “Truthfully, I spent most of my time on the bench.”
Preacher nodded. That sounded about right.
“You play?” the man said, eyeing his shoulders.
Preacher nodded. “I was on defense.”
“Name’s Bob Updike,” he said, then raised his fist.
Preacher stared at it for a second then gave the man a fist bump. “Preacher. Everyone calls me Preacher.”
“Well, it was nice meeting you. Tell Laura I’m sorry for her troubles.”
“Will do.” Preacher left, feeling a little bemused and thinking he’d somehow made an unlikely friend.
Back at Laura’s shop, he made quick work of nailing the plywood sheet over the broken window. When he was finished, he stepped inside.
Laura was walking from appliance to appliance, turning off lights and flipping switches on heating lamps.
“Closing early?”
She gave him a tight smile. “I generally close early—you know, I’m here well before dawn. After lunchtime traffic, it’s dead anyway.”
“Did you get hold of your insurance guy?”
“I did,” she said, nodding. “He said he’ll need a copy of the sheriff’s report. I’m almost tempted not to file. My deductible’s nearly as much as replacing the window will cost.”
“If you want to save installation, I can put it in for you.”
She shook her head. “I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve already done so much.”
“You didn’t ask. I’m offering,” he said, quietly.
Her gaze fell away, and her lips pressed together.
“If I’m crowding you, just tell me.”
Her gaze swept back to his. “I don’t mind being…crowded.”
God, did everything she say have to have a sexy connotation? He wasn’t sure his dick could take the strain.
He cleared his throat. “I hope you don’t mind, but I called a friend who knows how to install security systems. She said she can be here in the morning. I told her what you needed, and she scraped up some extra bits of tech we had left over from our installation. She can hook you up with an alarm system and cameras.”
Her eyes widened. “She’d do that?”
Preacher smiled. “We’re still trying to get on the good side of town folk here. It’s the neighborly thing to do.”
She chuckled. “Neighborly, huh?” She drew a deep breath. “I’ll want to pay her for her time.”
“She won’t accept it. Told me on the phone she’d take the occasional coffee and donut if you wanted to compensate her for her time. Her name’s Fig, by the way.”
“That’s unusual.”
“Fredericka, actually, but her last name is Newton…”
Laura laughed. “Are you…and she…”
Preacher gave her a mock scowl. “Do you think I would’ve asked you out if she and I had a thing?”
“Guess not,” she said and dropped her gaze. “Well, I should get home. I have a dinner to whip up.”
Preacher wanted that dinner, but he worried maybe that she was taking on too much. “If tonight’s not good, we can do this another night.”
Her mouth tilted down at the corners. “You don’t want to come?”
Dang, she’d said it that way again. Deliberately, it seemed, by the sparkle in her eyes. He cleared his throat. “I do. But after today…” he said, waving toward the window, “I’d understand if you were too tired.”
“I didn’t do anything. You did it all,” she said, a smile kicking up one side of her mouth.
“Well, I guess I’ll need that card,” Preacher said, feeling his dick predictably begin to stiffen. The thought of spending time alone with her, in her home, even if a table stood between them was enough to get him hard.
She slid her hand into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a card. “Come whenever. I’ll have everything done around six, but you could hang out with me while I cook. I won’t mind.”
He took the card and slid it into his own back pocket. “I have a couple of skips to track down, but I should be finished early.” And then he stood there a moment too long, not wanting to be the first to turn away.
She took a step toward him, and he started to turn to the side to let her pass, but she stepped in front of him, reached for both sides of his collar, and went up on her tiptoes. The kiss she planted on his lips wasn’t hesitant or shy. She opened her mouth and scooped at his lips. Before he could raise his arms to hold her closer, she settled down on her heels, flashed him a smile, and sailed out the
door. “Lock it behind you,” she said with wave over her shoulder.
Preacher’s mouth stretched into a grin as he watched her soft, lush ass twitch while she walked away.
Chapter 4
Laura spoke again to her insurance agent, telling him she’d handle replacing the glass. Then she stopped by the hardware store to have Bob Updike and the woman who worked in his little warehouse, Edna Posick, order her the size window she needed, using the measurements Preacher had taken earlier.
“Sorry to hear about your troubles,” Bob said as he rang her up.
“Thank you, Bob.” She gave him a smile.
“Will you be at the boosters’ club meeting on Thursday?”
“I wouldn’t dream of missing it,” she said, although she might—if a certain someone asked her to change her plans.
“See you then,” he called after her.
“I’ll ring you when your window comes in,” Edna shouted from her counter in the back, and then gave her a wave.
She waved back at the woman and Bob, but her mind was already on the list of items she needed to purchase at the grocery store. She wondered what sort of alcohol Preacher liked to drink and decided she’d let Rhonda at Dem Bones Package Store choose a beer that might appeal to a well-traveled man, along with a red wine and some sort of whiskey—just to cover all the bases. Not to get him drunk. No, she wanted to be sure that, if he made any moves on her, he had all his faculties in working order.
The fact she was already considering sleeping with the man should’ve shocked her to her toes. She’d always been cautious with men, wanting to ascertain their character and intentions before making herself vulnerable in the most profound way. However, men like Dylan Priestley didn’t come along every day, and she was pushing thirty, so it was now or never. In a few more years, her boobs would be droopy, her ass wider, and she might not get another shot like this.
So, once she arrived home, she packed away her supplies then went into a frenzy of housecleaning, beginning with stripping and remaking her bed. Should she use her soft and silky pink sheets or the crisp white cotton with the crocheted borders?
Preacher (Montana Bounty Hunters: Dead Horse, MT Book 2) Page 3