Risk the Burn by Marnee Blake

Author:Marnee Blake
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lyrical Press
Published: 2019-08-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Turning off the car outside his duplex in Redmond, Hunter scanned the shadows. Nothing, as usual. He lived in a quiet part of town, so he hadn’t expected anything. But he tried to see it all through Charlie’s eyes. He wanted her to feel comfortable here. Safe.

He pushed the front door open, letting Charlie go ahead of him. Closing it, he made sure to lock the deadbolt and latch the chain, something he didn’t always do when he was here alone. As he left her in the foyer, he turned on the lights in the living room and the one in the kitchen.

Around him, he surveyed the stark minimalism of his place. Compared to her cozy, almost bohemian-looking one-bedroom, his place looked especially barren. He shrugged at her, sheepish. “It’s not much, but I’m not here often.”

“It’s great. Thanks for having me.”

Standing there, she pretended she was solid. Her smile was brave and genuine. Except her skin was pale, paler than usual. When he’d held her hands, they were icy. The smudges under her eyes were dark, a testament to the stressful situation.

What got him in the gut was that she probably didn’t realize how shaken up she was. As she was telling him her story in the car, it had been like she was reciting details from someone else’s life or a movie she’d watched. When he’d gotten upset, had to pull over because he could barely see through his fury for her, she’d reached for him, checked in on him.

She’d apologized for upsetting him.

Christ.

Even now, he had to take a deep breath. She didn’t need any of that from him. Right now, he had to focus on what he could do for her.

“What can I get you?” he asked. “Mi casa, su casa.”

She grinned, gripping her handbag in front of her and stepping further inside. “Actually, I was wondering if it would be too much to ask to use your shower.”

“Right this way.”

He showed her into the bathroom, instructed her how to use the faucet in the tub. It was touchy. Place was a rental, though, so he’d learned to deal with the foibles. He got her his fluffiest towel, his softest T-shirt, and his smallest pair of shorts.

When she surfaced after her shower, swallowed up by his clothes, her hair a mass of curls around her face, he had to stifle his groan. He’d always liked those clothes, but she made them look amazing.

To distract himself, he pushed a mug toward her. “You drink whiskey?”

“I have drunk whiskey in my past.” She eyed the cup skeptically. “Do I drink it regularly? No.”

“Hot toddy.” He wiped the counter, disposing of the tea bag he’d used. “My mom’s recipe for all things that ail you.”

She glanced in the mug. “What is it?”

“Tea.” He lifted the box of herbal tea he’d used. “I only have decaf since I only drink tea at night.”

“You drink tea?”

“What’s that face?” He covered his heart, feigning offense. “Lots of people drink tea.”

“I drink tea.

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