Don't Tempt Me. Lori Foster. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Lori Foster
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Контркультура
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781474057448
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swiveled around and stared. “Pizza girl?”

      “True story,” Colt said. “But I’d call her a woman, not a girl.”

      “Only because she’s too old for you.” Hogan said to the ladies, “She’s early twenties, and real cute.”

      Jason rolled his eyes. The pizza girl—emphasis on girl—was pretty enough, but he wasn’t interested. She might be too old for Colt, but she was definitely too young for him. “Everyone’s hungry, so let’s eat.”

      Honor looked around her house. “It was super nice of you to go get food—”

      “Because I’m starved,” Lexie said.

      “—but there’s nowhere here to sit, much less eat.”

      Colt hitched his chin toward the back of the house. “I cleared a path for you over to our backyard. We have a picnic table. Let’s go there.”

      She stared at Colt, wanting to refuse but unsure how to deny a seventeen-year-old boy. Using her wrist to brush bangs out of her eyes, she waffled. “But—”

      “No buts,” Hogan told her. “You don’t want to be unneighborly, do you?”

      Jason didn’t mind Colt urging her, but what was Hogan’s endgame? “You guys go on. Get out some paper plates and stuff. I’ll help her finish in the kitchen and we’ll be right over.”

      After a long speculative look, Hogan’s mouth lifted in a sly grin. “Sure.” Then to Lexie, “You coming?”

      Lexie looked to Honor. “Do you mind? Or was there something else I could do?”

      Immediately Honor shooed her away. “Go, sit. I’ll only be five minutes.” Unfortunately, the second the others were gone, she tried to shoo him away, too. “Really, Jason, I’ve got it. There isn’t that much more to do.”

      Jason took in all the still-full boxes, the stacked kitchen, and shook his head. “Looks like a lot to me.”

      “Everything I need right away is unpacked. I’ll get my bed together and then do the rest of it little by little. I promise, it won’t be a problem.”

      He studied her and saw her cheeks go warm again. The woman blushed far too easily. Walking past her without a word, he entered the kitchen and picked up where she’d left off.

      And he didn’t have to go on tiptoe to do it.

      From behind him, she said low, “This is ridiculous.”

      “What’s that?” He didn’t pause in unloading plates to the bottom shelf where she could better reach them, and putting serving bowls and platters toward the top.

      “I don’t even know you people.”

      Over his shoulder, he took in her disgruntled and confused expression. “Around here, neighbors help neighbors. When Sullivan Dean moved in across the street, we did the same thing. Few months ago Nathan Hawley moved in on the other side of me, and we lent a hand.” He shrugged, broke down the now empty box and put it on the stack of cardboard by the back door.

      “I haven’t met them yet.”

      “You will.” And though it shouldn’t, that bothered him. Both Sullivan and Nathan were single. Neither seemed to be on the prowl, but with a lady like Honor, who knew? “Clearbrook has a lot of community stuff. Volleyball, barbecues, that sort of thing. You’ll meet everyone in no time.”

      Edging back into the kitchen but keeping some distance between them, she started folding dishrags into a drawer. “You’ve had a lot of people moving in?”

      “Houses around here stayed empty until the city decided to revamp things.”

      “Are you new to the neighborhood?”

      “Grew up here, actually.” He found another empty box, and another after that, breaking each one down so the cardboard made a nice flat stack. “The house used to be our dad’s. When the area deteriorated, he saw no reason to keep maintaining the property. About eight years ago he decided he’d enjoy Florida, so I bought it from him.”

      “Wow. You must’ve been pretty young.”

      “Twenty-four. Old enough to know what I wanted.” He’d always loved the house and the memories that came with it. Before his mom died, it was a home. After that...both his dad and the house fell apart. “It needed some work, so I got a good deal, and Dad got the cash he needed to relocate.” These days, his father rarely visited any memories that reminded him of his deceased wife—including his sons and grandson.

      “Win-win,” Honor said.

      “Right.” Leaning back on the counter, he watched her close one drawer, then begin filling another with place mats, oven mitts and such. “So...no man in your life to help you get moved in?” Her friend Lexie had already announced neither of them was married, but a woman Honor’s age, looking the way she looked, surely had a guy or two hanging around.

      As if the question threw her, she paused, searched for what to say and in the end just shook her head.

      Unbelievable. Was that a recent occurrence? A divorce, or a breakup of another kind? Or maybe she was more like the other blonde, Lexie, than he’d first thought. “What about a brother? Your dad?”

      She concentrated on the drawer. “No.”

      That didn’t feel right. “No one but your friend Lexie?”

      Her face flushed, but this time it was with uncertainty. “Why do you ask?”

      She thought he was being nosy. Or maybe she thought he was hitting on her.

      The truth was probably a mix of both. “You being here alone...it’s not a great idea.”

      Like a challenge, she said, “I already had new locks put on the doors.”

      His mouth quirked, but he didn’t want her to think he was laughing at her, so he tipped up his chin, scratched the beard stubble underneath and decided on a few facts. “Last week, two blocks from here, some punks broke into an older man’s house. Beat him up, robbed him. Less than a month before that a woman got jumped in her own front yard, middle of the day. Luckily Nathan was around and he stopped them before she was seriously hurt.”

      “Nathan, your neighbor?”

      That was the part she found interesting? “Yeah, he’s the sheriff.” Continuing, he told her, “In the past two months people around here have had their cars jacked, been robbed, assaulted—”

      “Your neighbor—our neighbor—is the sheriff?”

      Jason stared at her. “You’re not listening to the important part.”

      She waved a hand. “I get it. There are still some criminal activities. But the area is on the upswing, right? They’re fixing up the park, new businesses are moving in and they’re even going to reopen the old neighborhood pool—”

      “Which is right across from a cemetery.”

      That slowed her down, but only for a heartbeat. “That’s just because the cemetery expanded, right? And now it’d be too expensive to move the pool. I’m sure it won’t bother most people. Definitely won’t bother me.”

      She’d done her research. Or maybe Realtors had their pitches down. “The key point here is that it’s a work in progress. They’re still fixing up the park, too many businesses are pending and the pool probably won’t be ready until mid-July, if then.” He took a step closer. “Right now, this week, the area is not safe for a woman alone.”

      Agitated, she glared at him. “So I should what? Not stay in my own house? My first house? Should I put it right back on the market? Lose the opportunity of a lifetime?” She took a step closer, too. “Rhetorical questions, because I can assure you, I’m here to stay.”

      Jason stared