Liam Davis & The Raven (Love Inscribed 1)

“I’m staying at Shannon’s.”

“Right.” We stared at each other a moment longer. Even with him a good couple feet away, I still felt tingling where he’d been pressed up against me. “Are we going to get moving anytime soon?” I asked. “I have some notes to convert into a column.”

He started the car, murmuring something under his breath with a roll of his eyes, and drove me to my place.

I spent the ten-minute drive noting Quinn’s silence and the way his breath kept hitching as if he wanted to say something. When I stepped out of the car, I braced one hand on the roof, the other clenched around the top of the door. I looked over at Quinn. “You want to ask if the room is still free, don’t you?”

He raised both his brows, as if caught off guard, and his cheeks reddened. “Again, I’m really sorry what I said the last few days. I was a dick.”

“Yes, you were.” I let go of the car and slowly backed away. “But we started over. If you want to move in, come over tomorrow afternoon and we can sort it out.”

Chapter 5

Saturday morning, my daily newspaper reading was interrupted by a blaring horn outside my apartment. I peeked out my window. The top of a white van reflecting the morning sun assaulted my eyes. The horn hooted again, definitely coming from this offending vehicle. I shoved my feet into a pair of unlaced gray shoes, grabbed my keys, shut the door and jogged downstairs.

“Some people are trying to read here,” I muttered as I stormed over the small patch of grass to the van.

Three feet from the ruckus-maker, I recognized him. Hunter. One of his hands reached out the open window and clutched the top of the car. He tapped his horn again, lighter this time and with an acknowledging jerk of his head.

“Liam!” he yelled through the open passenger window. “Finally. Get your butt in here. We’re on a mission.”

“What are you doing here?” I said, tripping over my laces as I stepped to the car and opened the door.

“I told you already. We’re going on a mission.” He palmed the passenger seat with a healthy leather slap. “Jump in.”

“Isn’t it considered polite to call first?”

Hunter snorted. “I didn’t have your number. Told Sullivan I lost the directions to your place and he happily gave ’em to me.”

“You spoke to Quinn?” My interest in hearing his name was more piqued than it should have been. It might be something to analyze later. I’d see.

I shook Quinn from my thoughts and concentrated on Hunter. “You can’t expect me to just go with you. I could be busy.”

“Are you?”

“I was reading the Post-Gazette, as a matter of fact.”

“That’ll be there later. Now, ass in seat. Don’t make me reach over there and drag your sorry weight in here.”

I glanced to his legs. “Could you actually do that?”

Hunter lifted his T-shirt, tucking the end under his chin, and beefed up his arms. A small blue bird seemed to be flying over the guy’s well-toned abdomen. I studied his impressive display of muscle, then chuckled at his cocky smirk and glinting eyes. “Trust me, I can pull a lot with this.”

He leaned over the chair and grabbed a fistful of my navy T-shirt. I didn’t need any more convincing. I hopped into the van and strapped up.

With a laugh, he righted himself in his seat, and started the van. “Now give me directions.”

“Me? I’ve no idea where we’re going.”

“To Mitch’s, of course.”

“The guy you were flirting with at the coffee shop?” The guy whose street was the venue for my attack?

“I haven’t been able to get him out of my mind all week.” Hunter waggled his eyes, pulled down on his hand controls, and accelerated out of the parking spot. “I decided it’s time for a little serendipity.”

I frowned, bracing myself against the leather seat as Hunter careened around a corner. Freddy Krueger won’t be there now. Maybe the place will jog your memory of The Raven. “You do know serendipity means something pleasant happening by accident, don’t you?”

“Nah, you’re wrong, man,” Hunter said, looking over at a four-way and gesturing toward all options until I pointed left. “Serendipity means good luck, and I don’t believe you just wait around for it, I think it comes to those who seek it.” He shrugged and amended with a twitch of his lips, “in this case, stalk it.”

He glanced over at me still clutching the seat; it was my nerves more than his driving—though only just in that order. “Where to now?”

“Just up here to the right. 512.”

Hunter made a U-turn and squeezed into a tight parking spot opposite the house. He rubbed his hands together. “Right, let the luck begin.”

The way he’d parked, I was in full view of Mitch’s house and the lamppost under which . . . my ribs hurt just thinking about it. I sat on my shaking hands. Hunter didn’t know all the details of that night; he was only here for the cute guy I’d delivered home. I focused on Hunter instead of the scenery outside my open window. “What’s the plan now? Are you going to knock on his front door?”