The Colton Marine. Lisa Childs
up here.”
Her full lips parted on a soft gasp, and her eyes widened again. “Are you flirting with me?” she asked.
Like her uncle, she was straightforward. He appreciated that. Hell, he appreciated entirely too much about her—like her body and her face and her voice and her sexy-as-sin scent.
He laughed and touched the scars on the right side of his face. “Like you’d be interested in me...”
She gasped again, but it was his name that slipped out between her lush lips. “River!”
“It’s fine,” he assured her. “I’m not looking for pity.” That would be a hell of a lot easier to find, though. He’d just have to go into town or to a family function. They all looked at him like that.
“What are you looking for?” she asked.
And he tensed. She wasn’t just straightforward. She was smart, too.
She gestured at the crowbar he’d dropped. “I heard you scraping at something.”
He shrugged. “I was just killing some spiders.”
Her eyes were still narrowed. “With a crowbar? What do you swat a fly with? A shovel?”
“The crowbar was handy,” he said. “And the spiders were big.”
She shuddered in revulsion. She wore more clothes than she had last night or this morning. Now she had on jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt—probably because of the bugs and spiders she’d known would be in the house. She glanced around the basement. “That’s all you found down here?”
“I found some rats and a squirrel.” But he knew he’d been close to finding something else. If he’d hit that latch in the wall, he might have opened one of his mother’s secret rooms. He might have found some of her secrets. “Oh, and a snake, too.”
She shuddered again. “Let’s go upstairs, then,” she said. And she hurried down the hall toward the stairs.
He appreciated following her, appreciated the curve of her hips in her jeans, and appreciated how her butt moved as she climbed the steps. Her legs were long and toned—probably from the running. She was slender but not so slender that she didn’t have lush curves.
When she reached the top, she glanced back at him—as if she’d been aware of his staring. As if she’d felt it.
He wanted to touch her, so badly that he curled his fingers into his palms. She was already leery of him. He had to be careful.
But he found himself admitting, “I am looking for something...”
She tensed now. “What?”
“A job,” he said.
“I thought you’ve been working with Uncle Mac on the ranch,” she said.
He nodded. “But like I told you, I’m not looking for pity. And I think that’s the only reason he’s made work for me. Thorne really runs the place. They don’t need me.”
That was true. They didn’t. Nobody did. He’d been gone ten years and they’d all functioned just fine without him. He really had no reason to stay in Shadow Creek—except that he had no place else to go.
He wasn’t about to feel sorry for himself, though. He hadn’t lost nearly as much as some people had. “But I need to do something...” Like find out who the hell his father was. “And it looks like you need a lot done around here.”
Her dark eyes widened, and she blinked her long, thick lashes. “You want to work here? For me?”
He nodded. “It would be the perfect solution to both our problems. You need work done, and I need to work.” That was true. If he didn’t keep busy, he would have too much time to think—too much time to think about what he and the others on that last mission had lost.
She narrowed her eyes again and studied him with skepticism and suspicion. “How do I know you can handle the job?” she asked. Gesturing at the kitchen sink, she asked, “Have you done any carpentry work? Any plumbing?”
“I have,” he said. “During high school, I worked summers for Rafferty Construction, and since I’ve been back, I’ve helped my sister-in-law Allison, who owns the company now, with some projects.”
“Why aren’t you working for her now?” she asked.
“Are you in Human Resources?” River asked. Because he felt like he was being interviewed. “What exactly is your job title?”
Her wide mouth curved into a slight, sexy smile. “Everything,” she said. “That’s my job title. So yeah, I’ve been part of the hiring process. My boss usually has to approve all hires, though.”
“You don’t think he would hire me?” River asked.
“He is very private,” she said. “He doesn’t want anyone to know he’s purchased La Bonne Vie.”
“Why not?”
Her smile slid away, and she looked tense.
And he realized she didn’t know, either.
She shrugged. “That’s his business. And he doesn’t want anyone else knowing it.”
“I can respect that,” River said. “That’s why I’m not working for Rafferty Construction. Coworkers stared, asked questions. And reporters were able to track me down on the jobsites. They took pictures...” He shuddered like she had over the spiders.
“You don’t think they’ll find you here?” she asked. Even as she asked it, they heard the rumble of engines as vehicles pulled into the driveway.
He groaned. “I hope they haven’t. Maybe that’s just Mac again.” But he doubted it. Mac had trusted that River would make sure his niece was safe here. And he wasn’t likely to willingly return to La Bonne Vie unless he had a damn good reason.
Maybe they’d caught Livia, and she was back behind bars where she belonged. But someone would have called him with that news. At least one of his siblings would realize he’d want to know. He pulled out his cell and stared down at the standard screen saver.
He had missed no calls.
And they wouldn’t have driven out here. Nobody but Mac knew that he’d intended to come back to La Bonne Vie. And Mac thought he’d only been doing that to keep Edith safe. But if those were reporters pulling up outside the estate, who was going to keep him safe?
* * *
Edith hadn’t missed the dread on River’s face—the tension tightening his already clenched jaw. He didn’t want to see if those were reporters who had pulled up outside. And she didn’t blame him.
It wasn’t his responsibility. “You can stay in here,” she offered, as she walked down the hallway heading from the kitchen back to the foyer.
“You shouldn’t go out there alone,” he said as he followed her. It wasn’t like when he’d followed her down the basement hallway. Then she’d felt his gaze on her—on her body. And her skin had heated.
He wasn’t looking at her at all now. His neck was arched, as he tried to peer out the windows through all the ivy covering them.
She laughed off his concern. “I’m usually alone,” she told him, “in far more dangerous situations than this.”
He caught her arm and spun her back around in the foyer. “Why? Where?”
She laughed harder. “I grew up in New Orleans.” But she’d thickened her drawl and pronounced it the correct way. “I’ll be fine, cher.” She held up her hand with the canister of pepper spray in it. “I have this.”
He tilted his head and studied her face. “Have you ever used it?” he asked.
Her lips curved down, her smile slipping away,