Tempting the Bounty Hunter: A protective grump romance by Liv Prescott

Author:Liv Prescott [Prescott, Liv]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Liv Prescott
Published: 2023-05-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Hannah

Dane is grimly silent as we cross the Bay Bridge into Oakland. He stops at a grocery store, emerges with three full bags, and drives to a modest residential neighborhood populated by older stucco houses and duplexes. Streetlamps cast circles of yellow light over the cracked sidewalks.

He pulls into the driveway of a one-story bungalow fenced off from the neighboring houses. Benny is already parked on the street. He exits the car, his phone in his hand.

Ignoring him, Dane unlocks the front door and stalks into the house. Benny and I follow. It’s a small, tidy house with comfortable furniture, framed classic movie posters, and a kitchen that opens onto a postage-stamp lawn.

Benny grabs a beer from the fridge and plants himself in front of the living room TV to watch a sports channel.

Dane unpacks the groceries in the kitchen. His shoulders are tense, his movements abrupt.

“This is a nice house,” I venture. “How long have you lived here?”

He tears open a package of thick steaks. “Ten years or so.”

“The homes in this whole neighborhood look historic.”

He gives a humorless laugh and turns on the back patio light. “They’re old and run-down. This one was built in the 1930s. It needs more upgrading than I can afford.”

“But the bones and construction are solid.” I knock on the door leading to the dining room. “A lot of modern houses don’t have this kind of craftsmanship.”

He grunts a noise that could be assent or derision, then goes out to the patio and flicks on the outdoor lights. A few lawn chairs and a large grill are arranged on a narrow wooden deck. After firing up the grill, he returns to the kitchen.

“Can I help?” I ask.

He shakes his head, pointing with his chin to a chair near the butcher block. “Sit down. What’d you want to drink?”

“I’ll get something later.”

I watch as he prepares the food. Though he’s irritated at having been coerced into this, he moves with the confidence of a professional chef—peeling, chopping, slicing, seasoning.

Not only does he know what he’s doing, but he clearly has a natural facility and love for cooking. Soon, incredible smells fill the kitchen, and the steaks are sizzling on the grill.

“Not saying I agree with his tactics,” I remark as Dane checks on the steaks, “but I’m beginning to understand why Benny asked you to cook for him.”

Dane scowls. He’d tied a bandanna around his forehead that makes him look incredibly sexy in a pirate-like way, and his face is reddened from the heat of the grill. His arm muscles bulge as he flips the steaks.

I’m getting hungry for more than just food, but before long, he serves up a mouthwatering meal of juicy porterhouse steaks basted in garlic butter, plus plentiful sides of grilled vegetables and corn, roasted potatoes, and soft, flaky rolls.

Benny overloads his plate, helps himself to another beer, and returns to the living room to eat in front of the TV. Dane pulls out a chair for me at the narrow table by the window and uncorks a bottle of Malbec.

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