And despite popular opinion, he did know how to smile.
A hard knock at his door brought his head snapping up. Probably just another neighbor here to ask to hide from Johnny Law or to tell him the end was near. “Go away. No one’s here.”
Another knock, this one harder, more insistent. “I won’t bite,” she said. “At least, not more than a few times.”
He liked her voice. Soft and sweet, yet determined. Still, an intelligent person didn’t offer to nibble on strangers.
Motions swift, he put his gun back together and shoved it in the back of his running shorts. The weight created bigtime sag, never a good thing but especially not when he was shirtless. His uninvited guest would probably get a peek at his goods, but by the time he finished with her that wouldn’t be the worst of her worries. She needed to learn the consequences of this kind of behavior.
But … then he glanced through the peephole and spied the redhead’s roommate, the pretty blonde. Teaching her a lesson took a backseat to getting rid of her. Last time he’d seen her, she’d made him feel a tide of guilt and shame. Why, he didn’t know. Didn’t care. He just didn’t want to deal with her.
The moment he opened the door, however, urgency took a backseat to concern. She was highlighted by flickering overhead light, chewing on her nails and shifting nervously from one foot to the other. Crimson specks marred her cheeks and splattered her hands. Blood?
Frowning, he opened the door wider. “Are you okay, ma’am?”
Eyes of ocean-blue narrowed on him, her gaze becoming a laser that sliced through flesh. She stopped chewing and shifting at least, and no feelings of guilt or shame rose to the surface. “Ma’am? Did you just call me ma’am?”
“Yes, ma’am. Are you okay?”
“Wow, that hurts!” she said, ignoring his question a second time. “Just how old do you think I am?”
A minefield of a query, and one he was better off disregarding. He motioned to her stained hands with a tilt of his chin, even as he reached for the handle of his gun. “Let’s try this again. Are you hurt?” He scanned the walkway. Empty. No suspicious shadows, marks or noises. “Is someone following you? Bothering you?”
“Why would you—” She glanced down, chuckled and wiggled her fingers at him. “This is paint. I’m a painter.”
Paint. No mortal danger, then. His concern faded, and the surliness resurfaced. “Then what are you doing here?” Okay, so he probably should have pretended to be nice. She’d tell her friend he was a tool, and the friend would tell him she’d rather date a dishrag when he finally asked her out.
“As I was saying,” she continued blithely. “My amazing art does not contain …” A shudder of revulsion shook her. “You know.”
What? Blood? Probably. So many people had an aversion to the stuff, but he’d never had such qualms. “‘You know’?” he parroted.
“Yeah. The elixir of life.”
You’re kidding me. “And the elixir of life is?” Levi was having what he suspected was fun for the first time since his suspension. The girl was brave enough to knock on a stranger’s door and demand he open up, but she couldn’t say a certain five-letter word? How cute was that?
She ran her tongue over her teeth and whispered, “Fine. I can do this. It’s B-L-O-O-D.” Another shudder shook her.
Would it be rude to laugh at her? She’d actually spelled the word rather than said it.
His stance softened, and he allowed his arm to fall to his side. “So you’re an artist, huh?”
“An amazing artist.”
“I don’t know about amazing,” he said, “but you’re definitely modest.” And she was more than cute, he realized. She was short and curvy, her face something you might find on a little girl’s favorite doll, with big blue eyes, a button nose and heart-shaped lips. She was utterly adorable.
“By the way,” he added, “being called ‘sir’ would be a reason to have a hissy. Ma’am’s all good. I say that to everyone with—” his gaze automatically dropped to give her a once-over, but he got caught on her breasts, which were straining the fabric of her pajama top. He managed to jerk his attention back up and choke out “—estrogen.” Girl was stacked.
“Good point,” she said, tossing that tumble of pale hair over one shoulder, “but I assure you, I’m all woman.”
Noticed. Believe me. Rather than voice the sentiment aloud—and risk finding his testicles in his throat—he gave her a single nod of affirmation. “No argument here.”
A relieved breath left her. “Thank you for not telling me I need to double-check my woman card.”
“A double check isn’t necessary.” Are you … flirting?
“Well, isn’t the big, strong he-man sweet?”
“Yes, ma’am, he is.”
He wasn’t the type to flirt, but yeah. Yeah, he was flirting, and she was flirting back.
He’d planned to ask the redhead out, not really wanting anything to do with the blonde and all that guilt and shame she’d caused, but now, with the emotions out of the way, he changed his mind. He wanted this one.
In female-speak, that meant he wanted to get to know her better. In male-speak, he wanted her in his bed, like, now.
She was young, probably in her mid-twenties, with that cascade of wavy blond hair, blond brows and blond lashes, those delicate doll features and the fair skin of someone who preferred to hiss at the sun rather than to bask in it. And she was—
Familiar. He knew her, he realized. Somehow, someway, he knew her. Finally, an explanation as to why he’d felt what he’d felt when she’d first moved in, and yet he had no idea when or where they would have met.
“You’re staring,” she said, chewing on her bottom lip.
A nervous habit, definitely. One that made him think she was slightly … broken.
A protective instinct he usually only experienced on the job sprang to life. Annnd, yes, there was the guilt and the shame again.
Why? Why would he feel this way about her?
Well, no matter the answer, Red was back in the running. Levi didn’t date the broken. Ever. He protected, he avenged, but he didn’t fix. How could he? He couldn’t keep his own life on track. Besides that, he didn’t like feeling this way.
“Seriously. What?” she demanded.
“Just wondering if we’ve met before.” Even as he asked, his arms felt heavier, the muscles tense, as if memory had been stored there and he was now reliving his time with her. But … that would mean he’d held her. That wasn’t something he would forget.
Her nose scrunched up endearingly. “Is that a line? Because that sounds like a line.”
“Actually
