Men Of Honour. Lori Foster

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stood at the sink, staring out the kitchen window. Dressed in worn jeans and a faded sweatshirt with running shoes, he looked comfortable and handsome. She imagined he got plenty of attention wherever he went.

      AS SHE CAME THROUGH the doorway, Chris glanced over his shoulder at her, and his expression warmed. “Hey.”

      “Good morning.”

      “Thanks for making the coffee.” He looked her over, but then turned to stare out the window again.

      What was that about? Molly looked down at herself but saw nothing amiss. “I almost drank it all, too, so maybe you shouldn’t thank me.”

      Holding up a mug, he showed her that he’d already gotten his, and he had another pot brewing for Dare. “Dare likes it stronger.” Leaning against the counter, he nodded toward the window and said, “Did you see this?”

      “What?”

      “The sun rising over the lake.” He beckoned her forward. “Come here. I think you’ll like this.” And then, more to himself than her, “Somehow coffee tastes better with such an amazing background.”

      Intrigued, Molly walked over to the window, too. She bumped shoulders with Chris as she peered out, and her creative soul soaked in the sight.

      “Wow. It’s beautiful.” From this distance, higher up the sloping landscape, she could see through the trees to the dock and boathouse, and beyond. Wisps of fog, mysterious and magical, floated up from the glassy surface of the calm lake. In select, glistening places, the sunshine cut through and reflected back on itself. “It’s almost breathtaking.”

      Chris looked down at her. “Inspiring, huh?”

      “I’ll say.”

      “Looks like it’s going to be a gorgeous day.” He headed to the bar with a bowl of cold cereal. “Soon as I’m done with my breakfast, I’ll be driving into town to pick up your new clothes.”

      Reluctantly, Molly turned away from the scenery. “They’re in?”

      “Got an email confirming delivery.” His gaze never wavered from her, and when he realized he was staring, he asked abruptly, “Cereal?”

      “Oh, sure.” Not understanding him, Molly went for a bowl and spoon.

      “Dare will cook something hardier when he’s done downstairs, but don’t hold your breath. He’s beating the heavy bag pretty hard today.” Expression enigmatic, Chris said, “Can’t imagine what has him so worked up.”

      “Cereal is fine.” Molly frowned as she joined him at the bar. Trying to sound cavalier, she said, “You say Dare’s worked up?”

      Chris blinked at her. “You couldn’t tell?”

      “I barely saw him this morning. Within minutes of being awake, he was dressed and off jogging.”

      “Mmm.” Chris coughed. “Well, all I can say is that Dare often takes out his frustrations in the basement. It’s always best to leave him to it.”

      Was Dare annoyed with her and exerting energy because of it? Trying to sidle in on that possibility, Molly said, “I think we might be going back to my place today.”

      “Yeah, he told me.” Chris shoveled in a heaping spoonful of cereal.

      Molly went blank. “He told you?”

      Chris nodded.

      Affronted, Molly sat back in her chair. So, Dare had shared his intentions with Chris, but not with her? “When?”

      “Last night, before he joined you down on the dock.” Catching on to her mood, he explained, “He told me so that I could pack for him and get the travel plans all set up.”

      She felt cantankerous enough to say, “You shoot up I-75—not much to plan, is there?”

      “Unless you’re Dare. Remember what I told you? He likes to arrange for every possibility. I’ve made note of gas stations, restaurants and … motels.”

      “Motels?” Molly paused with a spoonful of cereal almost to her mouth. That made no sense to her.

      Teasing, Chris said, “It’s a four-hour drive, five if you stop to eat. You really never know when you might need a … room.”

      Oh, for heaven’s sake. “Why would we …” And suddenly she caught on: Chris was referring to what he’d heard last night. From her.

      Aghast, Molly threw a piece of wet cereal at him, hitting him dead center in the chest. The cereal bounced off onto the table but left a spot of milk on his sweatshirt.

      Not even trying to hide his laughter, Chris snatched up the cereal and popped it into his mouth. “I’m all done here.” He rose from his seat. “If you see Dare, tell him I’ll be back within an hour.”

      With heat still throbbing in her face, Molly tried to play off her embarrassment. “Where are the dogs?”

      “Downstairs with Dare.” Chris walked toward her, paused to give her shoulder a squeeze and then whistled as he snatched up keys and left the kitchen.

      Dare had warned her about Chris, but he hadn’t mentioned how much the man liked to tease, and his lack of propriety.

      At a loss as to how to proceed, Molly took her time finishing her cereal. She didn’t even know herself anymore. Not only had Chris reminded her of last night, but she’d just behaved like a child by throwing her food at him.

      Propping her head on her fist, she wished she at least had the dogs for company. She’d gotten used to their constant shadowing. But it made sense that now that Dare was around they wanted to be with him. She could see how much he loved Tai and Sargie, and how much they loved him.

      It would help her to sort things out if she knew more about Dare. Things like how much time he actually spent away with his work. And more details about his work would be nice, too. He obviously did very well for himself, given his property and his ease in spending money. Did his career choice often involve killing monstrous bad guys? Or had her situation been somehow unique?

      Given the oddity of his work, when did he last have a steady girlfriend? Was a steady girlfriend even possible?

      Molly wanted to know about his family, other friends he might have, preferences and dislikes and … everything.

      She didn’t have Chris or the dogs to keep her company, but when the noise in the basement continued, she decided she’d do well to stay busy.

      After clearing away the breakfast mess, she dragged herself back upstairs to write. This time her attempts at that distraction didn’t last beyond a half hour. Her muse wouldn’t cooperate anymore.

      She tried going out the French doors for some fresh air, but instead she ended up staring at the dock and … remembering. Her skin tingled and warmed, and her body felt tight.

      Sometimes a steamy shower helped kick-start her muse. She spent almost half an hour under the hot spray, and even washed her hair again, adding extra conditioner.

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