Heart's Blood (MxM)

Chapter 3

"Mr. Hart?" Dane Hunter stares down at me from beneath dark, angled brows. "Is everything alright?"

I stare back, impressed once more by the sheer size of him. He's almost as tall as the doorframe. He's wearing dark cargo pants and a white t-shirt that seems barely able to contain him, and it takes some effort to drag my eyes away from his pectoral expanse and focus on his face.

"Yes. Sorry. I thought you were my ex," I say, then wince and brush a hand through my hair. "What can I do for you?"

"Your ex?" he returns, instead of answering my question. "The guy in the red truck I passed on the road?"

I nod. "Yeah. Sorry. I thought he'd come back."

"Did you fight?"

I squint up at him, unsure how that could possibly be any of his business.

"No. Well, not today. He was fixing my leak. In my roof. The leak in my roof."

"Why was your ex fixing your leak?" Hunter's amber eyes narrow, and I feel a twinge of annoyance.

"Am I under investigation or something? Last time I checked, having your ex do some repair work is not a crime."

"No, but assault is," he says.

I feel whatever shred of color is in my face drain away.

"What?"

"That was Ian Foley, right?"

I nod.

"He's got priors. Two counts of assault. One from a woman when he was in college, one from a man a few years back. He's a repeat offender, and you seem upset. Are you sure he was just...fixing your leak?"

"Yes," I say, but it comes out with no sound. I clear my throat and try again. "Yes. I'm sure. And how do you possibly know all that? I thought you just transferred."

"I did. It's my business to know things."

Unless he's some sort of 'detective savant,' it seems unlikely that he knows the criminal records of every resident of Spring Lakes already. But if he's been checking into me and the people around me, Ian's name might have come up.

"Did you research me?" I ask. My anger is still right below the surface, and it seems eager for a new target. I hold it back with an effort.

"I did," he admits easily. "You found a body, after all. It's not unheard of for the killer to be one to report the crime."

I cross my arms and glare up at him, feeling like a narrow-chested meerkat staring down a lion. "And?" I challenge.

"You check out."

"What a relief. So why are you here?"

Again, he doesn't answer directly. "Can I come in?" He cocks one sharp brow at me, and I kick myself for appreciating the angle of his cheekbones and the set of his jaw.

"Uh...sure." I hold the door open wider and retreat a bit. He steps inside, then lifts his head and sniffs. Concerned that my house stinks, I do the same, but I don't detect anything. "What is it?"

I see a flash of amber as he glances at me, and then—to my astonishment—he drops to the floor and removes his shoes.

"Why...are you taking your shoes off?" I ask.

"Because I'm coming inside?" he returns, looking at me like I'm the one who doesn't know his manners.

"O...kay." I guess I can accept that. I perch on a stool at the counter and wait for him to finish. He removes both of his enormous shoes and lines them up next to mine by the door. My trainers look pathetically small by comparison. I never thought of myself as 'dainty' before, but next to his, my shoes look like they'd fit Cinderella.