Page 11 of Cold Foot Komodo

“Probably by mistake.”

His answers were so dry and emotionless.

“How close do you live to my sister?”

“Look,” he said, glaring at her. “You don’t need my attention, and I don’t need yours. I’m here to do a job, and we both know you’ll probably be headed back to Wyoming two weeks from now, so we don’t need to do the small talk.”

His response shocked her. It shocked her, and then it made her sad.

“It must’ve been very hard in Cold Foot Prison. This all must be a lot for you.”

A frown drifted across his face, but she didn’t need a response. She knew she’d guessed right. She couldn’t imagine what he’d been through in that prison. Timber had told her a few stories about that place that had given her nightmares.

She opened a can of wipes and began scrubbing the counters. “When I was a kid, my home was a battleground. My mother, she’s complicated. And harsh. And judgmental. The best way to deal with her is to not get her attention.” She dared a glance over her shoulder at him. Reed was leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed, one ankle crossed over the other, watching her.

“When I went to college,” she continued, “I carried the habits I’d built to keep myself safe. I kept people at a distance. I was standoffish and I put everyone in their place, which to me, was best if their place was far away from the real me. It took me three years to settle into my own skin and realize that not everyone in the world meant me harm.” Her rag was dirty, so she plucked another one from the canister. “You’re a few weeks out of a situation that probably required you to have walls the height of the sky. If you settle into your own skin faster than three years, well, you would be doing better than I did.”

When she looked over her shoulder at him again, he was staring at the ground. Reed pushed off the counter and strode for the bedroom, grabbing the plastic bag of bedding as he went.

She’d angered him. She knew she had. Sasha didn’t know why, but it ripped at her guts as she watched him disappear. Stupid. Sometimes she said stupid things. She didn’t know him, didn’t know his story. It was none of her business.

She knew on instinct she needed to leave him alone and give him space, but that wasn’t her way. This had always been her problem in every relationship. She clung if she was insecure about something she’d done wrong, because she just wanted to be good enough. Sure, she’d taken three years to settle into her own skin, but she still carried baggage. She tried to convince herself to leave him alone, but she saw the sandwiches she’d bought from the deli section of the store. She grabbed the bag, and with it gripped in her hand, she walked to the doorway of the bedroom.

Reed wasn’t making the bed as she’d imagined, though. He was standing against the opposite wall, in the dark, with his forehead against the drywall. He rolled his head back and forth against it, and Sasha stopped her advance.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I have no right to guess. You’re right. We aren’t friends. We are strangers.”

“Stop saying sorry,” he gritted out.

“Sss—”

“Stop.”

Sasha pursed her lips against the urge to say sorry for saying sorry. Instead, she set the bag down on the carpet in the doorway and settled the sandwich, the soda she’d bought, and the bag of chips on top of it like a little picnic. “I was thinking about you at the store, and I thought you might get hungry. I didn’t mean to assume.”

“You’re a badass nurse, Sasha. You drove a fucking truck from Wyoming to Nowheresville, Montana by yourself, knowing you wouldn’t know shit about fuck when you got here.” He turned, and looked from the food to her. “Don’t go submissive for anyone.”

“I don’t…” She was utterly baffled. “I don’t know what to say.”

His eyes held emotions she didn’t understand. “Have you eaten?”

“I ate breakfast this morning at a rest stop.”

He took a couple of beats before he sank down onto the carpet by the food. He bent up a knee and rested a forearm on it, then gestured to the food. “Your sister probably ordered all the food in town for your welcome-home party. We can split this.”

“Yeah?” It seemed like an olive branch. A truce.

“Sit down, Sasha.”

She secretly liked the way he said her name, and the way his voice went all deep and sexy when he demanded she do something. Normally if a man told her to do something, she would tell him to piss off and point to the exact butt cheek he could kiss as she walked away, middle finger up, but with Reed, she knew he was a slow open. He was so damn interesting.

He handed her half of the sandwich, and she took a big bite. It was a club sandwich with turkey, ham, provolone cheese, tomato, bacon, avocado spread, and crunchy lettuce on wheat bread. The chips were off-brand and covered in sea salt, and they were delicious. They ate in silence for most of the meal, until he popped the top of the soda and offered it to her.

“Nobody gets grape soda but kids,” he grumbled.

“Hey. Grape soda is the love of my life.”

“What are you, twelve?” he teased, and the spark was back in his eyes.

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