Reaper's Property(40)

Not exactly a killer.
“Hey there,” I said softly, working my way down the stairs. The dog watched me intently, mouth closing as it took on the fixed look of a herd dog at work, ready for anything. I reached the bottom of the steps and held my hand out low. The dog approached me, sniffed my hand and then started butting against it for a scratch. I obliged as the dog melted to the floor, writhing in ecstasy.
“You’re not much more than a puppy,” I murmured. “I’ll bet you fly when you jump—do you like chasing sticks?”
“Be careful what you say to him,” Horse said. “You start making promises, he’ll hold you to them. Takes a hell of a long time to tire him out too.”
“I didn’t think you were here,” I muttered.
“Not all of us make noise constantly,” he replied. “You sounded like a herd of moose up there.”
I scowled.
“I did not sound like a moose,” I said. “It’s not my fault the floors are old and creaky.”
“I didn’t say you sounded like a moose,” he replied, an almost friendly expression on his face. “I said you sounded like a herd of moose. There’s a big difference.”
I rolled my eyes at him.
“I made breakfast,” he said, jerking his chin toward the kitchen. “It’s not much. I want you to take over the cooking and shit, but I was hungry and you weren’t moving.”
I blushed, thinking about why I’d been tired, and he gave a low, satisfied chuckle.
“That’s Ariel, by the way,” he added, jerking his chin toward the dog. “But I call him Ari.”
I stared at him.
“You have a boy dog named Ariel?” I asked, not quite sure I’d heard him right.
“My niece named him,” Horse replied, shrugging. “Would break her heart to change it and I figure the dog doesn’t give a shit. I can live with Ari.”
I nodded, biting the side of my cheek. Once again, the badass biker was a mystery. He issued threats, carried a gun that I was pretty sure he knew how to use, and he let his little niece name his dog after a mermaid.
Split personality, no question.
Breakfast wasn’t fancy but it was surprisingly good. He’d made French toast with some ham on the side and wedges of ripe, juicy cantaloupe. The meal followed the same pattern as the night before, except this time he told me to put together a shopping list after we finished. Then he disappeared, taking the dog with him.
I spent about an hour working my way through the kitchen, making notes of what he had and what he needed, surprised to find that while he didn’t have a ton of fancy gadgets, what he did have was solid and high quality. Same with the pots and utensils. By the time he came back I had a list long enough to fill both sides of the paper. He looked at it, raising an eyebrow, but didn’t complain.
“Rig’s out front,” he said, starting toward the door. I followed him hastily, wishing I had my purse but not entirely sure he’d wait for me if I went to find it. Ari danced between us and tried to jump up into the dark-green Tahoe parked next to the house.
“No f*cking way,” Horse said to Ari, and the dog barked at him, clearly pleading.
“No,” he repeated, voice firm.
Ari slunk away, looking pitiful.
“You don’t tie him up or anything?” I asked as we started down the driveway.
“No need,” Horse said. “I’m far enough out that I don’t need to worry about kids or strangers hurting him. He knows where his house is and I guess if he decides to run off that’s his choice. So far he seems happy to stay put.”
Kind of like me, I realized. I could leave at any time, but I wouldn’t and Horse knew it.
He surprised me by pulling onto the freeway after we hit Coeur d’Alene, driving across the border into Washington. After about twenty minutes he exited near a giant mall, pulling around and parking without a word.
“I thought we were getting groceries,” I said, confused.
“We are,” Horse replied. “Gotta get some other stuff first.”
I followed him into the mall and couldn’t help but notice how much attention he got—most of it from women. I got that, because Horse was a hell of a sight. Tall, tattooed, hair back in a ponytail and wearing his cut over a shirt so faded you couldn’t tell what the original design had been. Jeans showcased his exceptionally fine ass, and the chain dangling across his hip attached to his wallet completed the picture perfectly. Men noticed him too. Most of them got out of his way, even the young toughs wearing gang colors and pretending to be badasses. I couldn’t decide if it felt more like walking with a superhero or a super villain—either way, people cleared out of path fast.
I tagged along without question until we stopped in front of Victoria’s Secret. Then I crossed my arms and shook my head.
“Oh hell no. I’m not going in there with you. We can hit a Walmart or something.”
“Don’t want you wearing shit that you wore for Gary,” Horse replied, draping an arm around my neck, pulling me into his body. He leaned over and spoke directly in my ear, voice husky. “I don’t give a damn if you never wear panties again, but I know women are weird about that. Here’s the compromise. I’m gonna buy you new shit, but only shit I like. You’re gonna wear it until I pull it off to f*ck you. Everyone wins.”
I opened my mouth to protest, then snapped it closed. I needed panties and bras, and I didn’t have my own transportation. I’d been smart enough to shove my cash and debit card into the backpack last night, but that money had to last until I got another job.