Page 44 of Letting Go

He laughed and headed into my house.

Killian strolled over. “You could have mentioned you’d be working on my house.”

“I could have,” he said, and even though he gave nothing away, I suspected he was teasing me.

“You can bring your dogs,” I offered.

It was only because he was studying me that I noticed something move behind his eyes, but what that was, I hadn’t a clue.

“I’d enjoy their company, and I’m sure they’d prefer being outside than inside.”

Silence followed before he said, “I’ll bring them tomorrow.”

“Good.”

He started for the house; I turned to watch him. And yes, I checked out his ass. It was a nice ass. He glanced back and caught me staring. My gaze lifted to his, and I grinned. “Coffee and donuts inside.”

He was thinking something, but said nothing, just ran his gaze down my body, stirring my blood, before he grinned and disappeared inside. I went for a walk because the man made me restless, in a good way.

I walked to the pond. It wasn’t far from the house. Purple, yellow and white wildflowers grew along the bank. A gazebo would be pretty, something screened in, because I imagined there were mosquitoes. I’d talk to Graham about it.

My thoughts drifted to my conversation with the detective. Brock’s father had been working with the mob. It didn’t surprise me. The man was all about getting what he wanted. The fact that he wasn’t discriminating in how he went about getting it sounded just like him. He’d tormented his kid, abused the boy he’d been, tried to manipulate the man he became. I often wondered what had happened that last day. Brock had put up with so much from his father, so what happened that day to cause him to snap. Deep down, I knew it had to do with me. It was the only thing that would force Brock’s hand. I had guilt about that, hated that I was partly responsible for his life derailing. Learning what I did from the detective, it made me scared too because, if he was right, the idea of being on the mob’s radar was terrifying. It had been so long, though, and for much of it, I had been in Manhattan. Had they wanted me, they could have found me. As far as Brock, I hoped he was with the Iron Guardians, that he had brothers watching his back.

I plucked the dandelion clock from the grass, made a wish for Brock and blew the seeds, watching as they drifted on the breeze and then I put my memories of him and my past back in the box and locked it.

I bit mynail, peeked out the front window, and knew I needed to go do something productive, but I couldn’t pull my eyes from the sight in my front yard, one person in particular held my attention. Killian was lifting bags of cement like they were bags of sugar, the muscles of his biceps flexing. His tee was snug, the sweat making it stick to his abs. I could see the individual muscles of his six-pack. My hands itched to touch him, taking my time exploring that body. I was objectifying him. It was wrong, and yet, I wished I had a hose, so I could spray him down, maybe get him to remove that tee.

“Cedar.”

I jerked around so fast, I hit my head on the blinds, which shook, so anyone outside looking in would know I’d been peeking out the window. Graham was grinning at me. He no doubt knew what I was doing.

I tried to act casual by leaning my elbow on the wall, but I underestimated how far the wall was and almost fell over.

“Are you okay?”

No, I was in sexual overload. “Yeah.”

“I wanted to ask you a few things. You got a minute?”

From my stalking? Sure. “Of course.”

We stepped outside. Music was playing, something from Def Leppard. I didn’t stop my stalking because Killian was working the table saw. It shouldn’t be sexy, a man at a saw, but it was. Maybe it was because his back was to me and his ass in those jeans was a sight. I had wanted a print of the area; I should get a picture of that and put it over the fireplace.

Graham asked me questions; I was only partially listening, so I had no idea what I’d agreed to, but I trusted Graham; we had the same vision for the porch, so when he walked away, I was only slightly concerned that I had just agreed to phallic shaped porch rungs.

I could have stood there and stared all afternoon, but I pulled myself away. Forced myself to go for a walk, maybe even stop at the pond again and cool off.

Liam and Iwere out celebrating at The Rodeo. It was the second most popular place in town. They did a hell of a takeout business. I wondered if that was something Liam had thought about.

I’d brought Natalie, and so far, my plan was working. Liam didn’t hide his surprise or interest. At dinner, they had sat next to each other and talked for much of it. I didn’t have a job, but maybe matchmaker was my calling.

We were standing by the electric bull. “You got to try it. It’s a rite of passage around here,” Liam said.

“I can’t even ride a horse. I’m not getting on that.” The man currently riding it was thrown. I jerked back when he landed near my feet. “Yeah, so not doing that.”

“You’re missing out,” Liam said.

“Not going to work. If it’s so fabulous, you do it.”

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