Chapter 26 Louise
LOUISE
Isquealed, stumbling back, and slammed my hand over my racing heart.
“You scared me.”
Ryder scanned my wet hair and freshly bathed body with an expression I couldn’t quite read. I realized it was the first time he was seeing me without a jacket that hung past my knees. Insecurity swept over me, and I hated that.
Yep, twenty pounds. Gone. ASAP.
I cleared my throat. “I was just going to the kitchen to grab a snack. If that’s okay.”
“Okay.”
Ryder turned and strode into the kitchen. It was the only room with lights on, although barely lit. Dimmable lights, I guessed.
What was his deal with light?
First, the smell hit me. I stopped dead in my tracks, gaping at the bloodbath on the counter.
“Oh my God.”
Ryder wiped his hands on a towel and flipped it over his shoulder. In front of him lay dozens of fish bones. The full spinal cord, plus fins, fish guts, and other fish organs. And to the side, fish heads. Huge fish heads with long whiskers and beady black eyes stared right at me.
“Dinner,” he said casually.
“Dinner?” Saliva pooled in my mouth, but not the good kind. I fought the urge to cover my nose with my hand. “You caught all this today?”
He dipped his head.
“It’s… a lot.”
“I’ve got a solid route.”
“What are they?”
He glanced at me from under his lashes. “Fish.”
“I know that. I mean, what kind?”
“Catfish.”
“Oh.”
“You like catfish?”
I nodded. “When I was little, my mom and dad would take me to a catfish place on the outskirts of town. It was the only time we ever went out to eat. Once, the beginning of every month, after payday. I hated it at first, but I grew to love it.” I smiled.
“I think because it was the only quality time I got with my folks. Catfish brought us together. Can I help?”
“You can take the bones and stuff to the trash.”
“Bones and stuff. Stuff being heads and guts.” Ugh.
I squared my shoulders and popped my neck from side to side like a wrestler before a fight.
“Trash bags are in the utility closet behind me,” he said.
“What about a hazmat suit?”
One corner of his lips lifted—and damn, I wanted to see a full smile. Twenty pounds gone and a full smile. I wondered which goal would be more difficult to achieve.
I crossed the kitchen and stepped into the utility closet.
It was easy to find the bags because the closet was impeccable.
Clean and organized by shape and color. The man would have a coronary if he saw my closet.
I pulled out a black bag, careful not to move the box from its designated spot, and then made my way back to the island.
Biting my lip, I stared down at the blood and gore.
He was watching me and I got the feeling this was some sort of test.
“Okay, here we go.” I pulled back my wet hair with the rubber band around my wrist, and after a quick inhale, I dove in.
A chorus of screams rang out in my head as I scooped the icy flesh and bones into the bag, goo sliding between my fingers and under my fingernails. My mouth went bone dry—pun unintended—as I reached for the first head.
No, no, don’t do it! I imagined the fish screaming as I grasped its head.
I must have gripped too hard because the slippery bastard slid from my fingertips, shooting across the counter—yes, a fish head sliding across the counter. Blood splattered as the head hit the floor and bounced a few times. I released the girliest scream ever, dancing on my tiptoes.
Pick it up, pick it up, pick it up…
I swooped down, grabbed the head, and gagged. Not cute, little playful gags. Guttural gags.
“Jesus, Louise.” Ryder dropped the knife onto the counter.
“No.” Breathing through my mouth, I whimpered, “Don’t. I’ve got this.”
He watched me in disgusted awe as I shoveled the rest of the heads into the bag, gagging profusely. I spun the top in a twist and extended my arms, holding it out in front of me as I bounced on my toes.
“Where do I put it? Where do I put it?”
“Just . . . the trash. Good Lord, woman. The trash.”
I swear I heard him chuckle as I jogged to the trash, shoved the bag inside, and slammed the lid closed. When I turned, he was wiping the blood from the floor—along with the specks of dirt that had fallen off my boots.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, grabbing a paper towel and attempting to wipe the caked dirt from my boots.
“It’s okay. I’m just glad I didn’t decide to leave them on.”
“Oh God.”
He grinned. Not a full smile, but we were getting closer.
“Well. What else can I—”
“How about you just have a seat?”
“That I can do.”
I walked over to the breakfast nook, but instead of sitting, I looked outside into the darkness. Swirls of snow spun in front of the window, reflecting in the light. My gaze shifted to Ryder’s reflection in the glass—staring directly at me. At my ass.
I blinked. When I turned, his focus quickly shifted back to the fish.
Huh.
I pulled out a chair from the breakfast nook, the legs squealing across the slate floor, and sat. In silence.
Awkward.
I noticed a highball glass on the counter filled with a few ice cubes and a deep amber liquid. I wasn’t much of a whiskey drinker, but I’d give my right arm for anything that involved alcohol at that moment.
“Drink?” he asked, as if he had eyes in the side of his head. Wouldn’t put it past him.
“Sure.”
“What would you like?”
“What do you have?”
“Everything.”
“I’ll take it,” I said with a laugh.
“The wine cellar’s in the basement.”
“You have a wine cellar?”
He nodded and slid me a glance. “Sorry. I’m all out of boxed.”
Smartass. “Boxed wine isn’t that bad, you know.”
“Neither is common sense.”
“Or manners. Listen, Ryder, I’m not going to apologize for leaving my vehicle and finding my way to your house last night.
Yes, in retrospect, it wasn’t the best judgment—or prudent, you might say—but news flash, I’m not perfect.
And I’m not going to thank you again for helping me.
I genuinely appreciate it, and that’s the truth.
Thank you for giving me shelter last night, and thank you for offering your bed to me tonight.
But for the record, I’m not thrilled to be trapped alone with a total stranger who pulled a gun on me. ”
“You’re lucky that’s all that happened to you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that not only did you put yourself in a dangerous situation, but you were impaired, unlikely to respond with a clear head to any situation that you might have come across.”
I jerked my chin to his glass of whiskey. “Those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
“I like a drink at dinner.”
“And you also like judging others, if I had to guess.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You smell like a liquor cabinet. Those were your first words ever to me. You judged me for having wine last night.”
“You did have wine last night.”
“Well, apparently you drink too.”
“Not stranded—alone—on the side of the road during a snowstorm. Are you aware that drinking lowers your internal body temperature?”
“Tell that to my drenched panties halfway into my hike.”
His gaze flicked to my pants. “You were sweating because your liver was working overtime, therefore making you sweat and feel warm. But in reality, your temperature was decreasing.”
“Thanks for the science lesson. You learn that in one of your romance novels?”
His brow cocked.
A moment slid between us.
He cleared his throat. “The point, Louise, is that in a situation where hypothermia was a very real possibility, you might as well have stripped out of those drenched panties and hiked naked.”
I wasn’t sure what I liked most about that sentence. The sound of my name rolling off his tongue, or hearing this six-foot-four-inch mountain-man say the word panties.
“I’ll keep that in mind for the next house I break into. Maybe that would have gotten me an invite to sleep in a bed instead of the floor.”
“Only if you could find it.”
“You’re kind of a jerk, you know that?”
“I’m sorry. Is my king-size bed and soaking tub not up to your standards? I’m sure I could throw a few pieces of duct tape on them to make you feel more at home.”
My brows popped. “The only person that could feel at home in this house is the devil himself. Now, where’s the wine cellar, so I can get really drunk and make some more bad decisions?”
“Thanks for the warning. Down the hallway to the right, past the library, at the end of the house. Door’s on the left.”
He eyed me as I sauntered past, the corners of those lips quirking. Those damn sexy, sexy lips.
I stomped my way down the hallway, leaving a trail of dirt in my wake.