Chapter 8 #2
She laughed, shaking her head. “You saw her here, and you about broke the speed of light to get to her. Worried she was hurt or something. She watched you like you were her next meal. The sexual tension between you is so thick, you could cut it with a knife.”
I didn’t know what to say to her.
“Were you aware how often you started to reach for her hand as she stood there?”
I shook my head in disbelief. “No.”
She laughed. “Of course not. Instead, you resort to stealing her toys like you’re six, so she’d have to talk to you to get them back.”
“I, ah…”
Martha put a hand on her hip. “Man up, Thorne. I know you’re a loner and like to act like you’re aloof, but I see you. I saw the way you looked at her.”
“She’s my tenant.”
“Who cares?”
That stopped me.
“She’s younger than me.”
“Again, who cares? She’s an old soul.” She began to turn away then stopped. “And she looks at you the same way you look at her.”
“I hardly know her.”
“Then I suggest you change that.”
I headed home, grateful the shift was over. I was tired again. It had been a crazy seventy-two hours. Lots of calls. Not a great deal of sleep. The power naps helped, but I was looking forward to my downtime.
I pulled in the driveway, looking at the wind chimes in the box on the floor. I had to return them to Casey.
But first, I had to set down some rules.
I carried them inside, Miller following closely. He ran around sniffing and inspecting his territory, making sure nothing untoward had occurred while we were gone. I threw in some laundry and inspected the fridge for dinner ideas.
Frozen pizza would have to suffice for tonight.
Finally, unable to put it off any longer, I took the box and whistled for Miller, who bounded over, rushing ahead of me as I headed to Casey’s back door. I knocked and waited, bracing myself for her as the door swung open.
It didn’t do any good. Her prettiness still caught me off guard. The curve of her mouth as she smiled. The brilliance of her blue eyes.
She was captivating.
She opened the door enough that Miller slipped in. “Barney is upstairs,” she instructed him, and he took off looking for his friend.
We stared at each other.
“I like your T-shirt. I’m going to assume you like superheroes,” she said dryly.
“I like some. Batman is one of the top.”
“Why?”
I frowned. “He’s not gifted with powers. He uses his brain.” I paused with a grin. “And he has cool toys.”
She laughed, and then she looked at the box in my hand, opening the door and reaching for it, but I pulled it back. “Rules, Casey.”
She rolled her eyes but stepped back, allowing me in.
Her kitchen smelled like heaven. Rich, enticing. I inhaled deeply. “What are you cooking?”
“Dinner.”
I sniffed again. “Is that pot roast again? Please tell me yes.”
“Even if it was, what makes you think you’d get any?”
“Because you’d never deny a local hero, Casey,” I said seriously.
She began to laugh, making my lips quirk.
“Keep telling yourself that, Thorne.”
I followed her to the living room, still holding on to the box. We stood staring at each other. She waited patiently.
“One set of wind chimes on the house,” I acquiesced. “Only one.”
“But they’re all so pretty.”
“One.”
She sighed. “Fine.”
“You decide which one, and I’ll hang it. No borrowing ladders. It’s not safe.”
She pursed her lips. “I rather liked it outside my bedroom window.”
I held in my enthusiasm for her choice. That was the farthest spot from me, so I wouldn’t hear it as much.
“Which one?”
She held out her hands, and I gave her the box. Her look of delight turned into a frown. “You have them all bunched up.” She held up a mass of string, shells, and bells, the sounds all clanging together in muted rage.
“Oops.”
She glared at me, her hand on her hip. “It will take two people to untangle this mess, Thorne. And you’re helping me.”
I withheld my groan. “Fine. But my reward is dinner.”
“Your reward is that I didn’t file a real report at the station.”
“Would you really do that?” I asked, tilting my head to the side and studying her. “Tarnish my reputation?”
Her mouth pulled upward at my teasing. “I guess you’ll never know.”
I answered her grin. “I guess we’d better get this mess straightened out.”
It took a long time to untwist and fix her wind chimes.
Longer than I expected. My suggestion of taking a pair of scissors and simply cutting them and starting over was met with a frown.
Casey’s patience seemed endless as she untied, un-looped, and freed each one, then started the seemingly never-ending task of untangling the individual ones.
I looked around the room, noticing a few more changes.
“Nice bookcase.”
“I got it at the local thrift shop. I thought it looked good there.”
I studied the books. “You like to read, obviously.”
“Yes.”
I squinted, mouthing the titles. “I see. You’re a closet historical romance reader,” I teased.
She rolled her eyes, not stopping in her busy endeavors. “Nothing closet about it. I already found a book club. I love regency. So much pent-up passion under layers of rules and forbidden lines.”
I chuckled. “Are you going to come down the stairs in a ball gown on your way to your book club?”
“Don’t be an idiot, Thorne,” she replied with a straight face. “I only wear the ball gown for the dances we hold.”
I had to laugh at her drollness.
At one point, she slapped my hands. “Stop it, you’re making it worse.”
“We’ve been at it for hours,” I complained.
She glanced at the clock. “One hour.”
“Seems like longer.”
She hip checked me. “Sit down and be quiet. I’ll do this part, and then you can help hold it away so it doesn’t get re-tangled.”
I sat down, feeling the exhaustion of the past few days catching up with me. I leaned my head back and shut my eyes. “Damn, this chair is comfortable,” I murmured.
“I know,” she replied as she worked. There was a steady rhythm to her movements, and for some reason, I found the sound of the bells and gentle chimes relaxing. I let out a sigh, deciding I would sit quietly for five minutes until she needed me again.
Just five minutes.