Page 29 of Grave Peril

Chapter 8

In some ways, Lela’s stay at the cottage was idyllic. The view of the water from the cozy vacation spot was relaxing, nearly making her forget how temporary it all was. Although there was no way to truly block out the threat that loomed over her.

Yet Lela could try. The first morning, she enjoyed freshly brewed coffee at a quaint café along the shore. Breakfast was steak and eggs, with biscuits that tasted homemade.

After the meal, Rip took her to the local eye doctor, a man he knew. He requested contact lenses for Lela to make her eyes green instead of brown. The doctor marked the order as priority, so the lenses would be ready within a day or so.

Then, with Rip following, she shopped in a few stores and came up with a hat with suitable clothing, items she wouldn’t normally wear. To complete the ensemble, she bought some sturdy shoes—fighting shoes, she called them. Rip didn’t ask her what she meant.

For the rest of the day, Lela and Rip hung out at the cottage, staying out of sight. The atmosphere was peaceful and the bay was glassy, not a ripple in sight. The quiet was a sign that the hideout was safe. No one approached, and the other residences were far enough away that not even a dog barked within hearing.

When the sun dipped in the sky, Rip suggested dinner out. The freezer food was okay, but he wanted a more substantial meal.

“Does this town have barbecue?” Lela said.

Rip grinned. “Just what I was thinking.” After she put on a jacket and hopped on the bike, Rip pulled down the driveway heading into town.

Since it was a short ride, Lela had her hair tied back, forgoing the helmet. With her arms around Rip, she leaned her cheek against his sturdy back. She was tempted to lower her hands and run them over his washboards abs. But that would send the wrong message.

It was no easy task to be in such close proximity with Rip and not want him. The truth was that Lela did want to touch. She longed to see his buff body stripped of the shirt and jeans, certain the clothing covered up a beautifully chiseled form.

Lela didn’t need to see him without clothes to be hot for him—any woman would be. She itched to run her fingers through his silky black hair. It shone in the sunlight, and was dark as ink in the nighttime. He had a little scruff along his jaw in the morning before he shaved. And he wore a silver cross on a thin chain around his neck.

Rip had a habit of looking directly at her. It was unnerving in a sensual way. In moments like that, it seemed that he knew her better than any man had before. Yet she’d known him for such a short time. If only she could look into those eyes…forever.

But Lela was dreaming. It was just that her life was hanging in the balance, and Rip had come to her rescue. She depended on him. Yet she couldn’t give in to her urge to fall into his arms, ask him to hold her tight, and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

While Lela was out of harm’s way for a couple of days, it couldn’t hurt to daydream. Imagining what it would be like to experience intimate moments with her gorgeous bodyguard was an acceptable sin—as long as she didn’t act on her impulse to make it reality.

Rip pulled the motorcycle into an open spot, and she slid off the back. He smiled at her, melting her heart. Despite the warrior he was, Rip was gentle and sensitive—although she was certain he wouldn’t admit it.

“Smell that?” Rip said.

San Leon Barbecue was a hole-in-the-wall joint, but all one could want in a Texas barbecue restaurant. Lela spotted the outdoor smoker. “I see the cook does it the old-fashioned way.”

“Yep, he subscribes to the ‘low and slow’ method of cooking…uses a hardwood fire that’s watched carefully overnight.”

The place was already packed, even that early in the evening. Customers filled all the available chairs and huddled together on benches lining the long wooden tables. The weather was mild, so Rip took her outside and found a table for two.

A waitress followed along with menus, but Rip already knew what he wanted. “I’ve eaten here many times.”

Lela ordered the same. It was hard to go wrong with beef brisket. The bottles of beer were promptly served. She sipped while enjoying the view: the fading light over the town, and even more, the heartthrob sitting across from her.

“You grew up around here?”

Rip took a gulp of beer. “I did…and I tend to gravitate to this area. My buddies and I have ridden bikes on these back roads many times.”

Lela was intrigued.

“Sometimes we’d go flat-out on our motorcycles all day long, eighty to ninety miles an hour. Then, at night, we’d party way out in the woods. The cops wouldn’t find us, or tended to look the other way as long as we didn’t make trouble.”

Rip smiled. “At some point, there was always someone stumbling into the bonfire or shooting a pistol into the air. We’d party until dawn, sleep on the ground, then get back on the bikes and hit the road again.”

“I’m trying to envision you doing that,” Lela said.

“I was a lot younger then. Some of the guys moved away, or I lost contact with them. But whenever I had a break from deployment and came home for a visit, there seemed to be a couple of buddies around.”

“And you’re still tight with them?”

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