Booted (Trails of Sin 3)

I release her and jerk to the edge of the sleeping bag, white knuckled and wound up. “Go to bed.”

Her face closes off, her arms falling to her sides.

“I’ll leave the tea.” She stands and heads toward the house.

“Raina.” I wait for her to glance over her shoulder. “What tribe do you belong to?”

“My maternal grandparents were full-blooded Cherokee.” She looks at her feet. “Good night.”

I watch her walk the distance. When she slips inside, I stare at the door long after she closes it behind her.

Did she lock the bolt? Jake installed security cameras and motion-activated alarms that encompass a wide perimeter around the estate. Jarret is right across the hall from her, and I’ll hear anything or anyone approaching.

She’s safe.

But I won’t be able to sleep until I check that lock.

By the time I make the trek to the porch, test the door, and jog back, I’m staggering beneath the weight of exhaustion. It hits me quick, dragging down my eyelids as I collapse onto the sleeping bag.

Within seconds, I’m out.

I sleep and wake frequently throughout the night, drenched in a cold sweat and shaking from nightmares. But unlike the past eight years, I fall back under quickly and doze for longer stretches of time.

By morning, I feel more rested than I have since I was a kid.

As the sky pales from black to gray, I pull on my clothes and boots, pack up the sleeping bag, and head inside.

The din of chatter and scent of pork grease lures me to the kitchen. Raina stands at the sink with her back to me as Jake putters around her, searching the cabinets.

The rest of the family gathers around the table, grabbing at the buffet of food in the center. They fight over biscuits, laughing and swatting at one another, too preoccupied to notice my entrance.

“What are you looking for?” Raina asks Jake, without glancing up from the pan she’s scrubbing.

“The blueberry stuff—”

She points to the cabinet behind him and resumes her task.

I guess there hasn’t been much reorganization since she lived here last. She seems to know where everything is.

Her hands work vigorously over the skillet, her banging body clad in my old clothes from high school. I was rangy back then, still growing into my height. But my jeans look fucking fantastic on her. They bunch around her ankles, about six inches too long, and hang low and loose on her hips. My God, her ass fills them out, the pockets cupping and squeezing those perky round cheeks.

Her hair falls in black sheets over the t-shirt, which slouches off one shoulder. She knotted the extra length at her midriff, baring a tantalizing sliver of sun-kissed skin. It doesn’t get any sexier than that.

My pulse pounds through my body as I set my hat on the counter and drag a hand down my whiskered throat.

“Morning!” Conor spins toward me, a smile stretching across her whole face.

“Mornin’.” I tip my head at her. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Sausage, eggs, biscuits, berries, fried potatoes, and…” She holds up a slimy green thing. “What’s this again?”

“Ramps.” Raina doesn’t look up from her scrubbing.

“Ramps.” Conor’s brows lift in a whatever-that-is look.

“Where did you find wild leeks?” I ask the back of the woman who has yet to acknowledge me.

“It grows on the hillside.” She motions at the window without turning around.

The snippy dismal in her tone rubs me the wrong way.

As everyone settles in to eat, I cross the kitchen and step into her space. Leaning a hip against the counter, I fold my arms and stare down at her.

She rinses the pan and grabs another one.

I wait.

She cleans two more before slamming her hands down on the edge of the sink.

“What do you want, Lorne?” She glares at the soap bubbles.

“You look riled enough to bite yourself.”

Behind me, the table of noisy eaters falls quiet.

She shoots them a dirty look and pushes away from the counter to face me. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine.”

Her eyes narrow, scrutinizing mine for the truth. “Liar.”

“I slept better.”

“Are you going to train me today?”

Her tone shivers with agitation. Is this about last night? Because I sent her to bed? Does she think something happened between us? Something that could distract her from the reason she’s here? If so, she has nothing to worry about.

“I need to run some errands,” I say. “But you’ll get your training.”

She releases a breath. “Okay.”

“Thank you for breakfast.” I nod at the table. “Join us.”

“I already ate.” She cocks her head. “You have a lot of old jeans in your room that are way too small for you. Do you mind if I cut some of them into shorts?”

“Do whatever you want with them.”

“Thanks.” She steps back and strides out of the kitchen.

My gaze follows her out, lingering long after she slips around the corner.

Until Conor clears her voice.