“Which explains why I’m here. If it hadn’t been for that, you’d have told me tough luck and put me on the road again.”
“The money was definitely a big consideration. But I’ve worked hard, whittled the debt down, and it’s all manageable now. At least my head is above water, thanks to my deal with the town. Besides, I wouldn’t have put you on the road right away. You were pitiful.”
He winced at her less-than-complimentary description, but it was accurate so he shrugged and let it go. He surveyed her for a minute, his thoughts hidden. She was unprepared for what he finally said. “I can get Axel to pay you more.”
She blinked, astonished, then laughed. “Not necessary. When I say it’s manageable, I mean it. I’ll use the money to knock a big hole in the remaining mortgage and either pay it off early or refinance for a lower payment. I’m good with the deal as it is.” She hauled herself out of the chair. “I need to get busy. How does pizza sound? You do eat pizza, don’t you?”
“Pizza sounds like heaven. Any kind of pizza. I even ate vegan pizza once. Not willingly, but I ate it.” He stood with improving ease, holding the laptop in one big hand.
“C’mon, Tricks,” Bo called, then looked up at him with a smirk playing around the edges of her mouth. “By the way, it would help if you could look really pitiful tomorrow, because the rumor’s already going around that we’re shacking up.”
CHAPTER 11
PITIFUL. THE WORD CLANGED ANGRILY AROUND inside Morgan’s skull. She thought he was pitiful. Maybe he wasn’t as okay with it as he’d thought. Even worse was the accuracy of her assessment; his ass had definitely been dragging the ground when he’d arrived here, but he was doing a lot better. Some, anyway.
He’d try his ever-lovin’ best to look pitiful for her tomorrow, so no one would think he could possibly get it up or that she would even consider crawling between the sheets with him. After tomorrow, though, he was going to start getting back in shape. He knew how. He’d gone through training that broke most men. Tomorrow would be pushing it some, so he’d have to be smart about it. His sternum and chest muscles were still healing, and he didn’t want to tear anything loose.
Then he considered the almost military straightness of her back as she walked into the house ahead of him, and he had to wonder if she’d used the word deliberately to alienate him. No man liked being described as pitiful. The tactic would have worked on most men, but he wasn’t most men. He was aggressive, intelligent, and he didn’t say, “Oh, well,” when presented with a problem or a challenge; he met the challenge and solved the problem.
Yes, she had chosen that word with, if not malice, definite intent. He knew it instinctively. It was those walls again; he had been careful not to make a comment that could in any way be regarded as sexual, but she’d still felt the need to reinforce the distance between them. Was it simply because he’d been here for several days now and was a part of her home life? She’d wanted to make certain he stayed a temporary intrusion.
From what he’d seen so far, her home really was her sanctuary. Officer Tucker had followed her out to interrogate him, and also to make sure she got home safely after bumping her head, but no one else had visited. No one had even called, other than Officer Tucker’s nightly check-ins, which were very brief.
She was a solitary person; he got that. She was also candid and open about her past, how she’d ended up here, what she was thinking. Maybe being so candid was another defense mechanism: tell people so much that they wouldn’t suspect she was hiding anything, such as a key part of herself.
She turned on the top wall oven to start preheating and got out Tricks’s food. He eased onto one of the stainless steel and wood bar stools at the counter, watching as the dog excitedly pranced around her. When she had it prepared, with little pieces of turkey on top, she set it down and he waited for the weird ritual he’d noticed at every one of the dog’s dinnertimes. Tricks didn’t do it any other time, but at dinner she had to be coaxed to eat.
This time, however, Tricks ignored the food bowl and came to lie down beside the stool where he was perched. She crossed her front paws and appeared to be waiting.
Bo made an exasperated sound in her throat and picked up the food bowl. “Yes, your majesty,” she said, as if the dog had spoken. As she approached, Tricks uncrossed her paws. Bo placed the bowl between them, right in front of her. Tricks wagged her tail and began eating.
Morgan had to laugh. She and the dog were a never-ending comedy act. “Exactly which one of you is trained?”
“I am, up to a point,” she admitted without hesitation, slanting a quick smile at him. “She’s done this her whole life. She eats without a problem the rest of the day, but she wants her supper how she wants it. Sometimes she wants to be praised before she’ll eat. Every so often she’ll pick out the spot where she wants to be, and I have to put the bowl in front of her or she won’t eat.” She bent and gently caressed Tricks’s head. The dog stopped eating to give Bo’s hand a lick. “She’s worth the trouble.”
Straightening, she washed her hands and got a pizza pan out of the cabinet, then extracted a large frozen pizza from the freezer. “It’s a supreme. Want me to pick anything off it before it cooks?”
“No, I like it all.” Except for anchovies. He’d tried them, though in his opinion whoever had come up with the idea of a fish pizza should be taken out and shot. Some things just shouldn’t be.