Page 21 of Fury

Chapter Eight

Penelope sat backin the chair with the blueberry cider in one hand and her other resting on her now full stomach. Despite her initial objections, hunger had gotten the best of her and she’d dug into the best damned nachos she’d ever had in her life.

“I cannot believe I ate all of those,” she sighed, fighting the urge to unbutton her waistband or at least loosen her belt. She covered her mouth to smother the giggle that image conjured in her mind. How classy would that be?

“You only ate one thing.”

She stared down at the empty plates, her mind blown that Sawyer had devoured everything else. How did he keep that body with all that junk?

Stop it. Don’t go there.

How many times was she going to keep thinking about his broad shoulders or fantasize about his probable six pack abs? Or something else…

His little sexual innuendos all day had really gotten to her. To the point heat flared between her legs about every five minutes. He’d look at her and she’d get flustered. Or God forbid, he smiled at her. Rugged good looks were an understatement. The man oozed charisma just sitting there.

Crap, she really needed to stop thinking about him like that. Why couldn’t she picture him as the victim of a horrific fire? Someone who needed her to find justice for him?

Well, she did see that. And as she’d gotten to know him and his fierce loyalty to the people he considered his family, her already strong need to find the person responsible had grown.

“Earth to Penny. Are you still here?”

She nearly groaned. No one called her Penny. Yet halfway through their first drink he’d made it a point to declare it a fine nickname and had now call her that on more than one occasion and she liked it. Crap, crap, crap, she was doing it again. She needed to focus on something else right now.

“You’re very focused on food here,” she said.

He looked up from his beer, licking the foam from his lips. Her belly flipped. Of course it did. Her body had turned into a traitor right along with her mind.

“We’re sort of tourist focused here when we need to be so food and beverage becomes a priority. And of course during lean times, learning to grow and cook our own food makes life on the island a lot easier. It just so happens that people in this region take that whole farm to table sustainability thing pretty serious.”

She pursed her lips. “It serves you well. Even if it does come from necessity. Although, it’s not as if you can’t hop into town any time. The Pacific Northwest is a little heavy on the foodie types, which naturally means there are no shortage of good restaurants. Even on this side of the big bridge.”

He took another gulp of his beer before responding. “We like to keep to ourselves. And we definitely don’t want to be in the position of relying on outsiders. It’s better that way.”

His cryptic answers were getting them nowhere. “Why is that?” she asked. “Is it a religious thing? Or—” she hesitated, a little nervous about implying something more. “I don’t know.”

“We’re not a cult if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I didn’t say—“

“We’re likeminded,” he continued, stopping her from finishing. “We prefer a simple and quiet way of life. You just can’t get that in the city.”

Penelope thought of her way too expensive loft in downtown Seattle. She paid a lot of money for a tiny amount of square footage in a crowded city. It made her wonder what kind of place Sawyer had on the island. She’d noticed everything from big waterfront homes to tiny cottages tucked in the trees as they’d walked to the crime scene. Honestly, she couldn’t picture him in either of those options. Sawyer had a beefy, rugged build that gave her the impression he would be uncomfortable in anything other than an equally rugged home. Maybe he lived on a boat or something. That wasn’t out of the question in these parts.

Her gaze wandered out the large picture window next to their seats that gave them a view overlooking the small island across the bay as the sun sank below the horizon. It was tiny, but not exactly remote. But it obviously gave them the privacy they needed. But for what? What were they not telling her?

“Still with me?”

She shook off her thoughts and turned back to Sawyer. “Yeah, but I think I’m done for the day. I’ve got to report in.” And do a little more research. If he wasn’t going to tell her anything real, then she’d have to find out some other way. A fact she didn’t feel the need to share.

“Are you staying in town somewhere? Or are you heading back to headquarters?”

“I made a reservation at a local hotel just in case. I’ll stay there so we can meet up again in the morning?”

Sawyer grinned at her. “Not done with me yet?”

The innuendo in his question made her stomach flutter again. Still, she leaned forward and stared hard at those dark eyes of his. “I’m not sure why you’ve tried so hard to distract me from my job today, but it’s not going to work. I am the job. I won’t be dissuaded from searching for the truth by an overdose of flirting, no matter how charming it may seem.”

This time he didn’t smile or come back with some pithy comment. Instead, he leaned towards her until all she could focus on were his lips. She’d never thought this much about a man’s different body parts as she had today. His lips being no exception. They were full and wide with the lighter pink tinge of burn scars just reaching the right side. Just enough to pull at one corner, making his grin all the more devastating when he chose to use it. He looked positively wicked.

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