4. Chapter 5 Daisy
Chapter 5: Daisy
T he universe just gave me the perfect excuse to corner Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Antisocial.
"Looking for a dog?" I plaster on my best helpful smile, holding up the weathered Dog for sale flyer.
Marcus Steel freezes in the pet food aisle like I just caught him robbing the place. Sweet lord, the man is huge. The early morning light filtering through the dusty windows catches the scars running down the left side of his face, but they don't distract from the sharp jawline or those intense grey eyes currently trying to glare me into silence.
Nice try, mountain man. I grew up with three brothers.
"Found the flyer tacked to my door this morning," I continue, deliberately stepping into his escape path. "You need company on the mountain?”
"I saw it." His voice is deep, rough with disuse. He reaches past me for a bag of premium dog food, muscles flexing under his thermal shirt. “I don’t need a dog.”
Focus, Daisy. Stop staring at his arms.
"What sort of dog do you have now?” I ask as he hovers in front of the pet food.
He shifts, bringing him close enough that I catch his scent; pine and sawdust with something spicier underneath. My skin prickles with awareness.
"I’m not talking to you about this." He tries to step around me. His jaw ticks. The scarred side of his face pulls tight, but I refuse to look away. He goes to walk away and I trail along with him.
"You following me now?" The words come out of him like gravel.
"Honey, you're the one who's been creeping past my store every morning." I arch an eyebrow. "Speaking of which, we need to talk about that furniture in my back room."
Marcus Steel looks like he wants to strangle me, jump me, or both. From the heat building low in my belly, I'm not entirely opposed to the second option.
Down, girl. Focus.
His hands flex at his sides. The action draws my eyes to those long fingers, rough with calluses. I imagine them on my skin and have to suppress a shiver.
"There are other furniture makers."
"None who can do what you do." I tell him as I point my finger at his chest. "Your work tells stories. Wild ones."
He goes very still as my arm brushes his chest. Every point of contact burns.
"Lady—"
"Daisy."
"Daisy." He says my name like it's something dangerous. "You don't want to push me."
"Pretty sure I do." I meet his eyes, letting him see exactly how much I want to push this. Push him.
For a long moment, he just stares at me. The intensity in those grey eyes makes it hard to breathe. Then his gaze drops to my mouth and oh – the heat there nearly melts my knickers.
A bark splits the air.
We jump apart as a husky limps through the door, trailing mud and looking mighty pleased with himself. A grey dog follows, moving cautiously on bandaged legs.
"You're sneaky." But there's no heat in my accusation. "You have two dogs."
Marcus looks like he wants to murder the dog. "Scout, stay."
"Scout?" I cross my arms. "They're both yours?”
"Both are temporary."
"Uh-huh." I crouch to check the younger dog bandages. They're expertly wrapped.
“What’s your name sweetheart?” I ask as the younger dog leant into me.”
“Luna.” He huffs out. “She’s a stray. I need to find her owner. Both of them. They are both temporary.”
I stand and stretch. "Just like you temporarily broke into my store to check on the furniture? I saw the boot prints and the size looks like it’s yours."
His boots shift in my peripheral vision. "I was making sure the humidity hadn't ruined the pieces. And the Post is where we sometimes meet. " He cuts himself off with a curse.
I remember Joe telling me about the Post holding meetings occasionally for the town. I had agreed to that, but now I’m also curious about what they were. More importantly, Marcus needs something from me, so I can bargain. I hide my smile.
"Tell you what." I straighten, trying to ignore how my body reacts when I realize how close we're standing. "You agree to make me new pieces, and I'll forget about the breaking and entering. I'll even throw in free dog supplies, and let you continue to use the Post for your meetings."
“You’re not scared of me?”
“Do I need to be scared of you?” I ask, confused.
He gestured to his face. “This doesn’t scare you?”
I step closer and go to cup his face, but he steps back. “I see people as more than their outside appearance.”
"You don't give up, do you?"
"Not when I want something." I let my eyes drag over him slowly, leaving no doubt about what else I might want.
His pupils dilate. The air between us thickens.
"Fine," he growls. "But we do this my way. I work alone. At night."
"Not anymore." I hold out my hand. "Partners?"
He stares at my offered hand like it might bite him. Finally, he takes it, his rough palm sliding against mine.
Electricity shoots straight to my core.
"Partners," he agrees roughly, dropping my hand like it burned him. "Now move. I need dog food."
I step aside, watching him stride away. Those jeans should be illegal.
"See you tonight, partner!" I call after him.
The string of muttered curses that follows makes me grin.
Round one is to me.
***
Two days later, Joe had warned me that the meeting would be on tonight and to make myself scarce. No way. I live above the Post, and I have the right to be here.
Really, I'm not hiding in my own store. I'm just strategically organizing inventory behind the counter at eleven p.m. when these mountain men usually meet.
The back door opens, followed by near silent footsteps. Their military training shows. If I hadn't been listening for them, I'd never know four large men just entered my store.
I peek through the storage room door. Sweet mercy.
They move like shadows to their usual spots in my back room, a space I pretend not to know they use monthly. Joe has filled me in one their names, but not their stories.
Jake Harrison takes the chair nearest the window, still dressed in his mountain rescue uniform, which does amazing things for his shoulders. Cole Davidson glides to the corner spot, adjusting his hearing aid. His hunter's eyes scan every exit. Finn O'Reilly claims the spot by the old stove, favoring his left leg.
Then Marcus. He fills the doorway like some gorgeous, grumpy mountain god. Scout sits alertly at his feet, no longer limping. Luna walks over to the old pot belly stove and curls up with the other dogs the men had bought in.
"You can stop pretending you're not there." Marcus's deep voice carries through the space. "We know you're hiding behind that door."
Busted.
I step out, chin high. "My store. I can hide wherever I want."
"She's got you there," Finn says.
Marcus glowers at him. The expression does interesting things to my insides.