Whispers in the Night. Diane Pershing
doing your caveman routine? I don’t want that. I don’t need that.”
“Listen, lady, you might think you don’t need it, but the guy was—”
She made an impatient gesture with her hand, cutting him off. “Spare me. I know how to handle Steven.”
“Didn’t look like you were doing much of a job.”
Her chin jutted out in defiance. “All right, then, I wasn’t doing much of a job. Either way, it’s my business. If you’d had your way there would have been a fight. I don’t like fights. And I don’t like men who engage in them. When and if I need your help, I’ll ask. Do you understand?”
He glared at her, all kinds of hostile responses whipping through his head, but none he would say to a woman. He ground his back teeth together and clenched and unclenched his jaw muscles several times before he was able to say, “Yes, ma’am. I most certainly do.”
Chafing at her dressing-down and his impotence to respond, he stormed off, heading for the stairs and the resumption of his chores. Damned if he’d ever come to the widow Thorne’s aid again.
In fact, he decided, he didn’t need this stupid job at all. He could find Jay Vinovich without Kayla’s help. It would be difficult; but he could do it. He’d have to, because when he was done here for the day, he was done here for good.
Chapter 4
An hour later, Kayla found Paul at the top of the staircase, working on the banister, which had a tendency to jiggle when you touched it. She stood several steps below him. His back was to her, and she waited for him to acknowledge her presence. He took his sweet time doing it, which she probably deserved. And when he finally angled his head around, his face was a perfect mask of detachment. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry,” she told him.
His gaze met hers without blinking, then he nodded once, growled “Fine,” and returned to his work.
She remained where she was. “Paul? I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that. It was Steven who deserved my anger, not you.”
She waited again while he seemed to mull over her words. Then he turned around and stared down at her. At this angle, he seemed impossibly tall and imposing, and she was glad he was on her side. As though reading her mind, he set down his tools and lowered himself onto the top step, his elbows resting on his bent knees, his hands clasped between his legs.
Grateful that he was obviously willing to discuss things a bit longer, Kayla sat a couple of steps lower down, angled her body around and gazed up at him. “You had a hammer in your hand and a look in your eye. And, well, I get this kind of knee-jerk reaction to, well, the way men are so quick to use physical threats to settle scores between them. You know, pissing contests. They make me uncomfortable. I prefer to try to reason things out.”
“I have a knee-jerk reaction to men who threaten women.”
She allowed herself a small smile, acknowledging the ambiguity in the situation. “Good for me you do. This time, anyway. It made Steven go away. Thank you.”
He rubbed a hand over his face, scrubbing at it, as though he were tired. Then he emitted a loud sigh. “He’ll be back, you know.”
“Steven never goes away.”
“Is he out of control? Has he ever been violent with you?”
“Not so far. Let’s hope he remains that way.”
His look said he was skeptical about that possibility. “Well, whatever you think about the way I handle myself, a physical threat is the only language some people understand. I’m good at that. So—” He paused, frowned as he silently considered something. Then he shook his head, as though thoroughly disgusted with himself before he went on. “Look, I’ll stay out of your business. But…hey, I’m here if you need me.”
At these words of support, even though they’d been delivered with obvious reluctance, a sweet warmth filled her insides. “That’s about the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in, well, in a long, long time.”
She reached up and laid her hand on his forearm. It was the first time she’d actually touched him, and the fact that his skin, under a light dusting of surprisingly soft hair, was warm and his arm was rock-hard with muscle reassured her even more. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
Crea-e-eak.
At first she incorporated the noise into her dream, something sensual about a huge, unsmiling-but-studly man and a bed with old box springs.
Crea-ee-eak.
But then Kayla sat straight up in bed, her heart thudding, her throat clogged with fear. It was not a dream. It was the same noise she’d heard two nights ago. Again, it came from her downstairs porch.
Instinctively, her mind sought answers. If it was an animal, there was nothing out there to attract it. She’d thoroughly cleaned the compost pile. All garbage was in plastic bags in the mudroom. There wasn’t even anything growing in her garden to tempt the noncarnivores; all the weeds were gone. She intended to plant all kinds of nourishing vegetables after winter passed, in the early spring.
Crea-eee-eak.
A wild thought entered her head that she ought to get Paul to fix those loose slats. Sooner rather than later. But if he did, she wouldn’t have any warning sign when there was a trespasser, and then, whatever or whoever it was could creep up on her while she was sleeping.
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