Hard to Get (Killer of Kings Book 4)(12)

“You don’t strike me as a quitter.”

She stared at him. He brought out so many of her feelings to the surface—the desire to be wanted, the need to put up more walls. “You shouldn’t be thinking about me.”

“Why not? I think about you. That’s why I’m here.”

Riley stopped. “Nobody’s ever helped me before.” She knew nothing about Shadow. Instead of worrying about the dead bodies at the other side of the plaza, he was looking at her in ways that made her heart race.

“I don’t normally help women out of uncomfortable situations, but I’ve got some free time on my hands. Those guys could be trouble for you. I’m thinking of sticking around for a little while.” He sat down on one of her chairs. “I like this place.”

She wasn’t really sure if she should take him seriously or not. Distrust came naturally to her. “I just watched you kill two guys. The way you fought… I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Yeah, spattered his useless brains all over the place. Probably the best thing I could have done,” he said. Then he looked directly at her. “I didn’t like his hands on you.”

Putting a hand to her forehead, she closed her eyes, counting to ten. “You know this doesn’t bode well for me. Are you like a hitman or something?”

“Or something.” He winked at her.

“This is way too much for me, and way too early. I need coffee.”

“I’ll have a coffee. I’ll have some cream and sugar, too.”

He’d literally killed for her. The least she could do was get him a coffee. He also offered to be her personal bodyguard, and right now she didn’t want to be alone. No one else in her life ever cared what happened to her or what someone did to her. This man, her neighbor, pretty much a stranger to her, had taken a life for her. In a weird way, she was kind of touched.

Shadow was really sexy to look at, so at least she won’t mind the view. No, she shouldn’t be thinking about how sexy he was, or the fact she liked looking at him, or that she thought it was sweet he killed someone. That was what made her weird.

Making them both some coffee, she also toasted up some bread, and found Shadow at the table clicking away on his cell phone. Putting a plateful of toast on the table, and his coffee in front of him, she took a seat. “You don’t have to stick around, you know?”

“I’ve already organized a new sheet of glass. They should have it here within a couple hours.” He grabbed his coffee. “I’ve got nothing else to do.”

“A window company that comes that fast at this time of day?” she asked, intrigued by him. “And what kind of job do you have that means you don’t have to go to work every single day?”

“The one that makes me the boss.”

She stared at him recalling the conversation she witnessed the other week. “You’re not the boss.”

He tensed up. “How do you figure?”

“The way that guy talked to you. He’s your boss. I could tell.” She took a sip of her coffee.

“You’re way too observant.”

She looked up at him. “I’ve had to be.”

“Yeah, why is that?”

Riley laughed. “You really want to know about my past, don’t you?”

“You said someone like you doesn’t get to have your dreams. Tell me about you, Riley.”

She sighed. “That’s just me having a pity party. Ignore me.”

“Is that why you’re alone?”

She frowned, wondering if she’d missed something. “I don’t—”

“You’ve got no man in your life. There’s no best friend. You’re a loner, and you hate being around fake people. I saw the look on your face at the party. You didn’t want to be there. You close up whenever anyone gets too close.”

He’d nailed her spot on, and her barriers instantly went up. How could this stranger unravel her after a few words? “You know, I don’t have to listen to any of this. Thank you so much for dealing with this stuff, but maybe you should go.”

She took a slice of toast and her coffee, leaving him alone. Entering the kitchen, she tore into her toast, and began to preheat the oven.

“You also run away from everyone and everything.”

“Screw you.” She turned to face him. “You’re not this squeaky-clean guy, just so you know. You’re a mystery. You’re as much of an outcast as I am.”

“So, I’m not trying to be something I’m not.”

“And I am?” She glared at him, feeling like a cornered dog.

“What do you call this?”

“This is my dream, asshole. Is this what you want? You want real? Fine. All my life I was the piece of shit that everyone wanted to be rid of. The kid no one wanted, not even my own parents. I’ve always been either too fat or too ugly. The foster system was no cake walk. It was worse than the streets. That’s what I know. My bakery, it’s mine. I can do one thing that’s good, and I bake. I’m good at that. Actually, you know what, I’m fucking great. I’ve seen the looks on people’s faces when they try something I’ve made, and it means everything to me.”

“The suburban house?”

“It’s a nice neighborhood. Why shouldn’t I live here? The people might be fake, but this is the life I’ve always dreamed of.” She was panting now, her anger at a fever pitch.