Crash (Brazen Bulls MC #1)(9)
He opened his mouth to tell her thanks anyway, but she looked so sore and rumpled, and he realized two new things: she was probably too hurt for f*cking, and he wasn’t ready to be alone with his brain, either.
Maybe just some companionship. No bad juju there, right?
“Yeah, sure. I’d like a beer.”
oOo
The steps caused her a little bit of trouble, and Rad swept his arm around her waist to give her support.
At her front door, a dog barked. One bark, and then silence. Rad tensed a little. He and animals generally had a good rapport, but that had been a big, deep bark, and it wouldn’t hurt to be ready. The front door had a narrow oval of leaded and beveled glass in the center, and a faint light glowed from within, but Rad couldn’t make out even the impression of a dog through it.
Willa had four locks on the door—the knob lock and three deadbolts. Her neighborhood was a decent one, a cozy little enclave on the north side of town, the kind of diverse, soundly middle-class area where everybody had jobs and kept up with their bills and spent their weekends working on the yard or the house, but nobody had a lot of money for extras or luxuries. Where vacations were camping trips and road trips, and a week at Disney World was a once-in-a-lifetime extravagance.
Not all areas in this part of Tulsa were so solid, but this was a place where you could trust the neighbors to water your plants and bring in your mail while you were off camping, where they’d mow your lawn for you if you were gone a while, not where you had to install extra locks on your doors.
As she got all the locks open and put her hand on the knob, she moved in front of him and eased the door ajar. “Ollie, sit,” she said into the slit she’d made. “Good boy. Stay.”
She opened the door and stepped in. Rad followed, half expecting to come face to face with a bear.
And he very nearly did. Sitting tense but pretty at the side of the door was a huge, gorgeous pit bull. Black with white markings. His tail thumped the wood floor once at Willa, and then he stared at Rad.
While Willa closed the door and locked all those locks—they were keyed on both sides, he noted, no thumbturn on the inside, and she had a security bar and a chain as well—Rad crouched before the dog. Ollie, she’d said.
“Hey, Ollie.” He held his hand out a couple of inches. “How you doin’, buddy?”
Ollie stared.
“Okay, Ollie. Release. Good boy.” Granted permission, the dog stood, and his back end rocked wildly, yanked to and fro by his wagging tail as Willa leaned down and gave him the love he wanted.
Still crouching in place, Rad saw the dog keeping one eye on him even as he snuggled his person. That look said, Mom let you in, so you might be okay, but I’m watching. You hurt her, you even make a move I don’t like, and I will eat your face.
This woman had a f*ck ton of security in a neighborhood not known to need it. Rad found that interesting.
Ollie was keeping track of Rad, but Willa seemed to have forgotten him as she reunited with her dog. “I missed you, Olliegollie. Did Mrs. Abrams spoil you with cookies while I was gone?”
“That’s a beautiful dog,” Rad said, mostly to remind her he was there.
She twitched as if she really had forgotten, then smiled. “Thanks. He’s my baby.”
She reached over and stroked her hand down the full length of his arm. Surprised by the gesture and by the warm silk of her touch as she reached his bare forearm, he almost twitched himself.
“He’ll be okay with you now. He’s not a fan of strange men, but that’s a signal that you’re not a danger.”
Sure enough, Ollie came over and snuffed at the hand he’d held out. When Rad scratched behind his ear, he set that big block of a head in his hand and closed his eyes, giving himself over to the pleasure of Rad’s touch.
Willa was watching. “You know your way around animals.”
“Farm boy. Always had a knack with ‘em.”
Again, she narrowed her eyes and examined him like a specimen pinned to a board. Then she smiled. “Animals are the best judges of character.”
“Heard it said, yeah.”
She gave her head a brisk shake. “I’ll get you that beer. Rolling Rock okay?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
Ollie gave up the ear scratch and followed after his mom. Not having been invited to follow, Rad stood and looked around.
Willa had turned on some lights as she’d moved back toward the kitchen, so Rad could see a good portion of the front rooms—in typical bungalow style, the front door opened into the middle, with a living room to one side and a dining room to the other. This house was probably fifty or sixty years old, so it might have had a narrow hall here in the center at some point—yeah, it had; Rad could see the breaks in the floorboards—but somebody had removed most of the walls, making the front space open.
The décor was completely intentional, no haphazard, hand-me-down feel. Neutral furniture and area rugs, wall colors in soft, earthy tones, carefully chosen accent pieces. The wood trim was painted white. Built-in bookcases, filled with books and curios, framed a fireplace on the far living room wall. A big sheepskin dog bed took up the space between the sofa and the fireplace.
The dining room was the same—simple, tidy, comfortable. It looked like a chick’s house, but not like a girl’s house. No frills or fringe, none of the flowers and fuss that Dahlia had liked. The vibe was restful and calm.