Love and Other Things (Crystal Lake 4)

He mentally willed the kitten to drop into his outstretched palm and, when that didn’t happen, tried talking to it the way Jack talked to his kid, which basically sounded like gibberish. It didn’t work, and those green eyes did nothing but stare down at him, the kitten taunting him with the odd soft meow. And now his day, which had started out so promising, was shot to hell and he’d be lucky to get to any of the trim done at the remodel.

He thought of calling his brother Nate and asking to borrow his truck, since he couldn’t drive off with the kitten stuck inside of his. But then he thought of the cold and how small the little guy looked, and he didn’t want it to freeze to death. Lord knows Nate’s lady, Molly, the local vet, would hand him his ass if anything happened to the kitten.

“Come on,” he said softly, wiggling his fingers a bit. The kitten leaned forward and sniffed around the edges of his fingernails, but when Beck leaned closer, it retreated. “You’re going to freeze to death, buddy.”

“What’s up in there?”

This woman wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Beck grimaced and pushed his way out from underneath the truck. He didn’t bother to hide his scowl. “A kitten.” He glanced up, but the sun was behind whoever stood a few inches from him, and he got to his feet. Her features came into focus as he moved a bit and his eyes got used to the brightness.

Creamy skin, high cheekbones, and a full mouth. Long dark hair and darker eyes that looked him up and down without giving anything away. Beck had no idea who she was, but the woman was treading on thin ice. He didn’t have time for her bullshit.

“Are you all right?" She pointed to his head, which throbbed.

“I'll be fine once I know who you are and why you’re here.” He rubbed his hands together to keep them warm, then took the edge of his shirt and swiped at the blood that dripped from the gash on his forehead. What the actual fu—

“I’m Sid Bennett. I’m renting a place on the lake and was told to pick up the key from someone named Beck at this address.” Her chin jutted out defiantly. “Are you Beck?”

Shit. That was today? Beck bought the stone cottage last year with the notion of flipping it, but once the project was done, he’d decided to keep the place and use it as a rental property. It was his greatest flaw, his inability to get rid of things. In the last five

years, he’d flipped six or seven homes and managed to make a very good living doing it. But when a man puts his heart and soul and sweat into a project, he leaves a piece of himself behind when he walks away from it.

Beck had a hard time walking away.

He focused on the woman, Sid, and his eyebrows shot up. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.” That last conversation with Nate was coming back to him.

“I was able to get away earlier than I expected to, and Nate said it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Did he now.” A heads-up would have been nice.

“Is it a problem?”

“No,” he replied sharply, more irritated than he should be. A sharp wail, like the little kitten’s lungs were being squeezed out of him, ripped through the quiet. It damn near made the hair on the back of Beck’s neck stand on end. Dammit to hell, but he didn’t have time for this. He swore under his breath.

“Do you want me to try?”

He looked her over real good. The woman was dressed in a white wool coat that fell to just above the knee. Her leather boots were a pale tan color, and the emerald scarf around her neck was silk. Beck might not know much, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know the coat alone cost more than all the clothes hanging in his closet. She looked like a city girl and sounded like the West Coast, and he searched his mind for more information. But either Nate hadn’t elaborated when he first approached Beck about the rental, or, more likely, Beck hadn’t paid attention.

There wasn’t much that interested him lately, aside from work.

“Knock yourself out.” He stepped aside and gave her some room.

She walked back to the expensive SUV parked a few feet away from his truck and rummaged around a bit, then returned clutching a pink-and-black bag. She opened it and popped a candy in her mouth and smiled at him. The smile wasn’t the kind that invited one in return, so he didn’t bother. It was made of ice and about as frosty as the look in her eyes.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said.

He was thinking that she looked good bent over the front seat of her vehicle, which should have surprised him considering she wasn’t his type. But then, since Cate, he hadn’t looked at anyone in a way that mattered.

“I doubt that.”

“You’re thinking, no way can I get that little kitten to come to me when you’ve been trying for the last hour.”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“What?”

“I’d be a popsicle if I’d been out here for an hour.”

Her eyes dropped to his bare chest, and for a ghost of a moment, he noticed the pink in her cheeks deepened.