Page 37 of Renard's Deliverance

“A sack of rocks would find you fucking attractive,” she told him. “And you know it.”

He folded his arms over his chest, highlighting his thick biceps as they stretched against his shirt.

Lord.

He was killing her and she had to make him back off. Because she was finding it hard to resist him.

She opened her mouth to blast him. To prove to him that she wasn’t worth putting in the time.

But she found she couldn’t do it. Because she didn’t want him to leave.

“What is wrong with me? Why do I want to let you help me?”

“It’s this town,” he told her.

“Huh?”

“Out there in the real world, you have to fight every day to survive. Here in Haven, it’s like they think life is worth living. That you should relax and do things that you find fun and fulfilling. Or some bullshit like that. I don’t know. I’ve been blocking it all for years, but it gets to you. Seeps into your pores.”

“That’s it.” Finally, someone who got it.

He nodded solemnly as he opened up the back door of his truck and grabbed out a toolbox and the new light.

“Yep. It can really get to you. Watch out or you’ll start shitting daisies and spewing out rainbows. That’s when you really know you’re in trouble.”

“Well, I never!”

Fucking great.

Would this woman never leave her alone?

Opal glared over at Mrs. Grackle where she stood at the end of her driveway with Barney.

Barney was glaring at Renard for some reason, but Mrs. Grackle only had eyes for her.

Fucking fantastic.

“I’m starting to think that I need to talk to the sheriff,” Opal told her. “Because it seems like I have a stalker.”

“What? Who?” Barney asked.

“Your aunt. She always seems to be over here. It’s becoming quite the nuisance.”

And Opal was nearly at the edge of her control. She’d tried being nice, she’d tried being patient. But enough was enough.

“Me? Stalk you? I don’t think so! I’m just trying to look after the people in this neighborhood. Quiet, decent people who wouldn’t appreciate the vulgarity coming from this man.” The Grackle waved her hand toward Renard.

“If you don’t want to hear it, don’t listen,” Renard told her. “And seems to me, you’re the only one fucking complaining.”

“Language!” she cried.

“Aunt Grace, perhaps we should keep going on our walk. You know that the doctor said stress isn’t good for your heart.”

“What does she know?” Mrs. Grackle snapped.

“Well, she did go to medical school for a number of years,” Barney said.

“Oh, be quiet, Barney! And I will be calling the sheriff, you . . . you trollop!” Mrs. Grackle yelled.

---