“Thank you,” she said. “Come by Rumrunner’s tonight, and drinks are on me.”
He gave her a funny look. “You’ll be at Rumrunner’s? No wonder you were asking who was hiring.”
She squared her shoulders, trying not to be defensive about her new job. “I’ll be working close every night, so make sure you come by after ten.”
His expression was inscrutable, but he nodded, tipped his hat and headed out to his car, talking into his shoulder mic as he did so.
She closed the door behind him and leaned against it. At least they hadn’t found evidence of someone camping up here, but starting tomorrow, she was going to start cleaning this place out.
After she got some locks.
When she’d lived in New York, she’d had these little metal locks that screwed into the window frame. Those couldn’t be too expensive, right, and they were easy to install.
But she had a lot of windows. She hoped Old Man Duval had them in stock.
Driving to Maillard, since Duval didn’t have locks,, and taking the time to put the locks on every downstairs window, took much of the rest of her day. She hesitated a bit on the landing outside the attic before opening the door. She bounced the little metal locks that seemed too small to keep out someone who was determined to get in.
But right now, this was what she had. She pushed open the door, and looking neither to the left or right, walked to the window that had no lock, attached the metal screws, and scrammed out of there as fast as she could.
Once outside the attic, though, she looked at the flimsy door. On the landing were two bookcases, both stuffed with, yes, more books. She tried to slide one in front of the door, but it was much too heavy, so she unloaded all the books, huffed and puffed, then wrangled the case in front of the attic door. Even though the door itself swung inward, the shelf blocked the frame. Once she had it where she wanted it, she returned the books to the shelves.
Hands on her hips, sweat running down her back, she inspected her fix. No one would get through this door.
But now she had to get ready for work.
On her way out, she looked at the framed picture, still on the floor facing the wall, and set it outside on the porch. Tomorrow she’d take it to some charity, or the dump, or something. But for now, she couldn’t say why, but she wanted it out of the house.
Five
Samson slidonto a barstool in front of her that night. She quirked an eyebrow at him, then reached over and poured him a draft without waiting for his order.
“Why are you here again?” she asked, placing the glass in front of him.
He shrugged a shoulder, a movement that drew her attention to how broad they were in that black t-shirt, and lifted the beer to his lips. She would not, would not look at the flex of muscles in his arms. She’d had to leave the kitchen the other day when he’d been working on the oven because, well, the play of muscles in his arms and back had been like an anatomy class.
A sexy anatomy class. Dang.
Then he snapped her out of her musing by setting the glass down and looking her straight in the eye. “You look terrible.”
Oh. Lovely. She’d been mentally drooling over him, and he thought she looked like hell. She wished for more customers so she’d have a distraction, but alas, not a busy night.
“You not sleeping in that house?” he pursued.
“I’m sleeping in the house. Where else would I sleep?”
“No, I mean, you’re not getting a good night’s rest?”
She shrugged. “An air mattress isn’t the most comfortable bedding.”
“What’s wrong with the beds?”
She angled her head to glare at him. “Would you sleep in a bed in a house that’s been abandoned for that long? No telling what’s in those mattresses.”
He nodded. “Well, I can drive you to town to get a new mattress if you want. I have a truck.”
If only she had the money, she would jump at the chance. Well, maybe, because that would mean she’d accepted help from him. Again. She didn’t like relationships without a balance of power. Too easy to lose, no matter which side of the power spectrum you were on. “Thanks, but I’ll just order one online. It hasn’t been a priority.” Because she didn’t have the money.
“No? What has?”
