The Hero's Redemption

It was the setting, he tried to convince himself. Sexy woman in snug jeans cooking for him. Didn’t explain why he’d been so damn tempted earlier to lift her off the ladder, strip her and lay her down on the grass.

Brambles, he reminded himself. He’d have hurt her delicate, translucent skin.

Crap. He cast a single, desperate glance toward the hall and escape.

CHAPTER FIVE

ALREADY SEATED AT the small table, Cole realized that standing up and walking out wasn’t an option.

A huge, crockery bowl held the pot roast with potatoes, carrots and other vegetables. Now, Erin set butter and the basket of fresh-baked biscuits on the table, sighed and sank down in her chair. “This does smell good.”

“Will you actually eat any of it?” His question was probably rude, but also genuine. She nibbled. She didn’t eat.

Erin made a rueful face. “Yes. It just…doesn’t always seem to be worth the effort. You know?” She took a biscuit and handed him the basket. “Help yourself.”

She’d set out generous-sized bowls as well as small plates for the biscuits. He dished up a hefty serving for himself and watched as she took less. It seemed to be a reasonable amount, considering she must weigh half of what he did.

“This is nice of you,” he said finally, long-ago lessons taught by his mother rising from the depths.

Erin seemed to concentrate on the food in front of her. “It’s okay if you don’t want to eat here. I kind of put you on the spot today. I just…” She shrugged. “I get lonely, I guess. I thought you might, too. Sometimes I look out the window and see the light above the garage and think it’s silly that we’re making separate meals.”

Get lonely? She had no idea. Having her right in front of him made things worse, increasing his sense of aloneness. It would be hell, being conscious of her every shifting expression, every breath she drew, the tinge of color in her cheeks and the fragility of her too-slender body—when his history felt like an invisible force field that would scald his hand if he tried to reach across it.

After a pause, he said, “Most people are afraid of me. Even when they don’t know I’m an ex-con, they watch me when I go by as if they expect me to attack.”

Exasperation flashed in her eyes when they met his. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve never been afraid of you.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer, but he had to ask. “Why?”

She blinked a couple of times, as if he’d taken her aback. “I don’t know,” she said finally. Her forehead puckered. “I’m not afraid of much. Or maybe anything.” She talked slowly. “I think…that instinct has been burned out of me. But I wouldn’t have been afraid of you, anyway. Somebody with bad intentions wouldn’t have reminded me that he’d just gotten out of prison. Besides, you don’t have that look.”

He ignored the last bit. She didn’t know what she was talking about. The only way to survive in the pen was to respond to challenges with quick, vicious strikes. That “do unto others” saying? In there, you did unto others what you feared they’d do unto you.

What really caught his attention was the middle part of her speech.

“Burned out of you?”

She shook her head, as if shedding water. “It doesn’t matter. We all have quirks.”

True, but an unwillingness to protect yourself? That had to be unnatural.

“What you did for Mr. Zatloka was nice,” she said.

“Mr….? Oh. The neighbor.” He filed away the name. “He looked like he’d have a heart attack by the time he was done, or just topple over.”

Erin laughed. “I had the same thought. But I knew if I offered to help, his male ego would be bruised.”

Cole smiled. “Probably.”

Damn, this meal was good. The meat all but melted in his mouth, as did the biscuits. He reached for another one.

Erin hadn’t put a lot away, but she was eating at least. “Have some more,” she said, nudging the bowl toward him.

“Did you grow up here?” he asked.

“No, but my dad did. It’s funny thinking of him living here as a little boy.”