Heaven and Hell (Heaven and Hell #1)(121)

I turned my mind from these thoughts to other thoughts that were only slightly less disturbing. These included the fact that I’d never cooked for Sam. I didn’t cook like my mother, this was true. And I thought my cooking was good. In fact, although Cooter was controlling about what I cooked, he never got pissed off about how it turned out.

But I’d noticed that, although Sam wasn’t freakish about his nutrition consumption inasmuch as he didn’t demand his vegetables steamed, his chicken grilled and allowed nothing unhealthy to pass his lips and he also would enjoy a beer or three, still, his selections were all relatively healthy and he leaned toward fish and skinless poultry and away from beef, fats and copious carbs.

I was the queen of beef, fats and copious carbs. Well, maybe not fats, so much, but definitely the other two. If a meal didn’t have some sort of bread, even if that meal was pasta, my thought was, what was the point?

Therefore, since I planned on making dinner for him that night, I was kind of at a loss.

Then I realized as I was staring down at the grocery list that didn’t have a lot on it that Sam’s truck was no longer growling, the garage door had already come down but he hadn’t come up the stairs from the garage.

My head turned in that direction just as I heard the door to the stairs open. Then I saw a still sweaty (thus luscious) Sam round the wall and come into the kitchen.

I smiled and greeted, “Hey, honey.”

My smile faltered when the man who I saw standing outside his car at my yard sale followed Sam into the kitchen.

“Hey, baby,” Sam replied on his approach.

The man did not approach. He stopped on the opposite side of the island. Memphis bounced in, yapping her greeting to Sam, got a look at the newcomer, dissed Sam and bounced yapping to him.

The man tipped just his eyes down to my dog and didn’t try to hide his revulsion.

Clearly, there were some badasses who didn’t think little dogs were cute.

Sam made it to me, his arm slid along my shoulders and he stated, “You said you wanted to meet the boys. Two of them came with. Aziz is off-duty. This is Deaver.”

“Hi, Deaver,” I greeted.

“Yo,” he grunted, his eyes moving from their disgusted study of a still bouncing and yapping Memphis to me.

“Um… sorry I didn’t ask to meet you earlier. I was, uh… kinda busy,” I told him.

He stared at me and made no response.

Weird.

“Do you want coffee?” I asked.

He shook his head but did not verbalize his refusal.

I tried again. “So, are you from Indiana?”

He stared at me a beat then nodded his head but said not a word.

Totally weird.

“Uh, sorry that you, uh… couldn’t join us in the lounge at the airport or that we uh… didn’t get you in first class.” I tipped my head back to look at Sam and asked, “Why didn’t we do that?”

Sam started to speak but Deaver beat him to it and I looked back to him when he did.

“Can’t assess a threat drinkin’ champagne in first class. Cooper had that covered, not a two man job. I covered coach.”

“Oh,” I murmured.

He went on, “And can’t scan the area sittin’ on my ass in the first class departure lounge.”

“Right,” I muttered.

That was when Deaver became talkative… ish.

He jerked his head toward the floor where Memphis was sitting on her doggie bottom, sweeping Sam’s tiled floor with her tail, waiting for Deaver to lavish affection on her and he declared, “Need a Rottie.”

Here we go again.

“That’s been noted,” I told him.

“Or a Shepherd,” he continued.

“That’s been mentioned too,” I replied.

“Or a Mastiff,” he went on.

That was a new one.

“Uh…” I mumbled.

“Or a Dogo Argentino.”

I blinked. “Sorry, a what?”

“The badass mofo of the canine world,” he explained.

“Oh,” I whispered thinking this guy was a little scarier than the average scary.

“Not that,” he jerked his head down at Memphis again.

Memphis yapped.

“She’s friendly,” I defended Memphis then added, “and cuddly.”

Deaver’s eyes sliced to Sam, clearly unimpressed with friendly, cuddly dogs and wanting to know why Sam didn’t eject my baby immediately.

“And anyway, I have badass mofos of the human variety looking out for me so I think I’m good,” I finished.

That was when Deaver decided to share his badass mofo wisdom. “You got a threat, you use every available means to neutralize it.”

“Uh, that makes sense, of course, but Memphis would probably yap pretty loudly to greet an intruder so at least we’d have a head’s up,” I told him.

He again looked at Sam and since I just met him I didn’t know if it was with respect that Sam had the patience to put up with me and Memphis or if it was with disdain that Sam was putting up with me and Memphis.

I decided I was done meeting my bodyguard so I said brightly, “Nice to meet you and if you should want to, say, use the bathroom or get a bottle of water, you obviously know where we are.”