Chapter 22 #2
Kat got out of the car, and I followed her into her house. She closed the door after me, looking uncomfortable. “So, you’ve already been through my place yesterday, so I don’t have to give you the tour,” she said. “I know it’s a dump.”
“Hell, no,” I retorted. “This is anything but a dump.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, yeah, rich boy? How do you figure?”
“I wasn’t always a rich boy. I was the head of a family when I was sixteen, and I was scrambling to feed them.
I know how much energy it takes to keep things clean, and this place is immaculate.
Not a speck of dust. No mold growing in the bathroom, and this is an old building in a city that’s as damp as a sponge.
You have ten different kinds of solvents and sprays and cleaning products under your sink.
Everything’s organized, nothing’s out of place.
It smells good. It’s recently painted. I bet you did it yourself. ”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“And you did it like a pro, with drop cloths, masking tape,” he said. “There’s not a drop of paint on the baseboards or the floor. The doors don’t squeak, because the hinges are oiled. The sink doesn’t drip.”
Her eyebrow tilted up. “I hope you know how creepy it is that you noticed all these incredibly specific details,” she said. “Most people notice clutter, but not the lack of it, because what’s to notice? But not Ethan Masters. He’s special that way.”
I ignored that barb. “It’s not creepy to notice a place is well kept. This is a palace compared to the places we crashed after we ran away from our uncle and aunt.”
She shrugged. “I like a clean living space,” she admitted.
“My mom was a neatnik, and I guess I got it from her. I’d like to have a better apartment, for sure, but one of the sad things about being on the run and living under the radar is that the jobs that you can get and leave easily never pay well.
To make real money, you have to commit, and I never had that luxury.
But I can’t tolerate squalor, no matter where I am. ”
“I don’t like it either,” I said. “But I never kept house as well as this. Not with Shane and a little sister to look after. Something always slipped through the cracks.”
We froze for an instant. The thought of her lost sisters hung heavy in the air. I saw Kat push the thought away from herself by sheer force of will.
“Excuse me,” she murmured, fleeing to the bedroom.
She slapped the door open again a moment later, a disapproving look on her face.
“Really, Masters?” she said. “I do get that you were trying to ascertain if I was a honeypot deathtrap, so I forgive you for breaking into my house. But pawing through my clothes and my underwear and my shoes? That’s just weird and pervy. ”
“I didn’t do that,” I protested, craning my neck to look into her bedroom, and her open closet.
Everything looked like it was in perfect order.
Shoes neatly organized on a shoe shelf, stacks of T-shirts and sweatshirts, organized by color.
A bag with carefully paired socks each in its own little slot, hanging on the closet door, like something out of a fucking lifestyle blog.
“Who pawed through what? Looks neat as a pin to me.”
“I leave things in such a way that I know if anyone has handled them,” she said.
I raised my hands in protest. “I did not handle your underwear! Not judging, but that’s not my kink. Too derivative. I prefer to go straight to the source.”
Kat huffed out a sharp breath and closed the bedroom door smartly in my face.
Well, shit. I couldn’t get too huffy. I had literally broken in and trespassed here yesterday, so I had no moral high ground to take. I’d been pushing her boundaries and taking liberties since the first moment I’d met her.
Still and all. I had not touched her damned clothes. As fucking if.
A knock on the door jolted my lacerated nerves. “Ethan?” Shelby’s voice
“What is it?” I asked.
“There’s a woman here to see Kat,” he said. “What do you want me to do?”
Kat marched out of her bedroom, pushed past me, and peered through the blinds. “Oh, it’s just my friend Joanna,” she said. “Let her in.”
Shelby hesitated. “Boss?”
I met Kat’s narrowed eyes. Here it came. Another scolding. “Yes. Let her in,” I said, resigned.
“So,” Kat said. “These bodyguards answer to you. Not to me.”
“I’m the one who pays them,” I pointed out, and then wished immediately that I hadn’t said it. Not a detail that was going to endear me to her.
“Ah,” Kat said. “Which makes them less like bodyguards, and more like, oh, I don’t know. Jailors, spies, informants, babysitters? What’s the right word for it?”
“Let’s discuss it another time,” I suggested, as Joanna burst through the door.
“Damn, Kat!” Joanna said. “What’s up with the tattooed prison guard out front? What is this, the frickin’ gulag?”
“Not at all,” I said. “Just a security precaution.”
Joanna spun around, open-mouthed. “Holy crap!” she breathed. “This is the guy who broke into your house yesterday! I caught him in the act!”
“I know,” Kat said. “He’s also been pawing through my underwear drawer. What the hell were you looking for, anyway?”
“I never touched your damned underwear!” I snapped back.
Joanna glared at me. “You said you’d tell Kat to call me!”
“And I did,” I said. “It is not my fault she got distracted.”
Kat turned back to Joanna. “Sorry, Jo,” she said. “I meant to call, and I would have, eventually. But things have been intense lately.”
“I was afraid he was a serial killer,” Joanna confided.
“No,” Kat snapped. “Just an expert at breaking and entering, evidently.”
I reached deep into my soul for patience. “I’m trying to help, Kat,” I said. “Stop breaking my balls.”
“I’ll have to think about that,” she said coolly. “Probably I could think about it better without having you all up in my face. I need a break, Ethan.”
Whatever. I slid my arm around her waist, pulled her tight against me, and gave her a fierce, hungry kiss. She didn’t pull away. For a brief moment, she melted against me, which felt so fucking good, it made my heart thud and my eyes blur.
I pulled away, trying not to pant. “We are not done,” I told her.
“Whoa!” Joanna’s eyes were wide with delight. “Sexual tension! Rawr!”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. That was definitely my cue. I strode out the door, and glared over at Shelby, who was leaning on my car. “I’m going to go check out some leads.”
“Alone?” Shelby frowned. “Not good. You should take one of us with you.”
“I’m not doing anything dangerous,” I said. “I want you here, with her. Keep your eyes on her. Call me if she decides to go anywhere. Whatever it is, she has to wait until Trey is back.”
“Got it.” Shelby glanced at the door in trepidation.
“She’s scary, but she won’t hurt you,” I told him. “I think.”
Shelby rolled his eyes. “That’s real comforting, boss. Watch yourself out there.”
I set a course for the house of Jordan Meechum, the CFO of Clemens & Associates. I figured I might as well chase down another lead while she cooled off. I needed something concrete to offer her when I came back.
Right now, a peace offering would be a very prudent move.