God, when had she become turned on by things like that?
“Come on in. I just fired up the grill.” He stepped back, and Ophelia entered his home, her eyes darting around the room to note the cozy yet masculine furniture choices. It wasn’t spartan by any means, but the color tones of the walls and furniture were in natural and neutral tones of dark browns, dove grays, and warm leather.
“So, am I the first to arrive?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Your friend, Noah, wasn’t it? Is he here yet?”
For a second, Colt simply stared at her, inscrutable as ever, and then he laughed. The rich, deep sound made her think of him in bed. If she was honest, everything he did was making her think of him in bed.
“Noah!” He whistled sharply, and Ophelia tensed at the sound of nails scraping on wood floors. An impressive but intimidating German shepherd rushed into the room. Ophelia immediately shrank back, and that didn’t escape Colt’s notice.
“Afraid of dogs?” he asked. He waved a hand, and Noah sat where he was and then lay down.
“No, not exactly. I got bit by a German shepherd when I was twelve. The neighbor boys sent it after me as a joke. I still have a scar.” She pointed to her chin.
Colt reached up and caught hold of her chin, leaning in to examine it. She knew he saw the tiny faint white scar at the bottom of her chin.
“Feeling brave?” he asked, and for some reason that made her heart race.
“Maybe?” She felt unsure, despite the fact that she had wanted to sound confident. Colt took her by the hand and led her to the large dog, who remained in his lying down position.
“Noah, this is Ophelia.” He looked to her as he introduced them. “Noah is a therapy dog. He was a bomb sniffer in Iraq for three years. You won’t meet a gentler dog, I promise.” Colt knelt on one knee and motioned for her to do the same. Ophelia did, but she reflexively gripped Colt’s arm. His skin was warm and comforting.
“You can pet him. He won’t move from this position until I tell him to.”
Trusting Colt, she reached out and patted the German shepherd. His fur was smooth and soft. The dog licked his lips, which made her flinch.
“That means he likes it, not that he sees you as a T-bone steak,” Colt explained. “When dogs are feeling safe and content, they lick their lips like that.” Sure enough, Noah’s eyes half closed as though he was experiencing pleasure.
“How do you know so much about dogs?” she asked.
Colt smiled a little. “Always had them growing up. When I came home from my last tour, I signed up to adopt a retired military working dog. Noah has been through hell, and he’s a damn good dog.”
Ophelia assumed that Colt must have been through hell during his service as well. “Miranda mentioned you were a Navy SEAL?”
“Yeah.” It was all he said, but it was enough. She knew what hardships servicemen and women faced.
She was still holding his arm when she spoke softly to him. “My dad was in the navy. He was a SeaBee, an engineer. I thank you for your service.”
Her words caught him by surprise. She could see it in his eyes as he looked down at her. He didn’t say anything for a long moment.
“I need to get the steaks on the grill.” With a wave of his hand, Noah followed him out into the backyard. Ophelia joined him, and he nodded toward an outdoor table and chairs.
“Have a seat.” He turned his back to her, lifted the grill lid and started laying the steaks across its surface. Noah settled down on the grass, and Ophelia sighed and relaxed a bit around him. He really was a beautiful dog.
The evening sunlight sank beneath the trees, and some string lights hanging on the back porch suddenly came on, making her feel warm and cozy as the chilly air crept in around them. Ophelia was content to lean back in her chair and watch Colt cook. He mastered the grill, and in no time he presented her with a steak and a tin-foil-wrapped baked potato on a plate.
“You want a beer or something?” he asked.
“Sure, I’ll take a beer.”
He stepped into the house and returned with a dog bowl in one hand and two beers in the other. He handed her one bottle of beer and set his down before he cut up a third steak and mixed it into Noah’s bowl of dried food.
Ophelia bit her lip to hide a smile. “You feed him steak?” It was clear he loved his dog.
“Only on Saturdays. Chicken and beef have all the nutrients dogs need that they don’t get in dog food. It keeps them a little healthier and happier.” Colt set the bowl down on the ground, and Noah dug in enthusiastically.
Ophelia had a thousand questions she wanted to ask, but she had never met anyone like Colt before, someone whose every look and action screamed that he was closed for business.
“So, Colt, what do you do now? Aside from being a good gardener.” She kept her tone teasing, hoping to coax him to open up a bit.
“Private security. Consulting. Mostly online these days.”
She expected him to ask her the same question, but he didn’t. He took a long sip of his beer instead, his hazel eyes too hawklike as they studied her while she tried her dinner. It was perfectly cooked and tasted amazing.
“You want to tell me why you moved here?” he asked.
She stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“This is an out-of-the-way place. Young kids like you don’t come here, not without a reason.”
“I’m not young,” she protested. “How old are you?”
“Old enough, sweetheart. I’ve lived a decade longer than you. I retired from the navy two years ago at age thirty-two. Feels like a lifetime.”
So he was thirty-four? That wasn’t old.
“How do you know my age?” she asked. “Or was that a guess?”
“No guess. I like to know who I live next to. I do a background check on everyone who moves to this neighborhood.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound suspicious or paranoid at all.”
“It’s not what you think. I work in security, remember? I’m sort of the neighborhood watch in these parts. We don’t get a lot of crime, but there have been some nasty break-ins, and the police haven’t caught whoever’s been doing it. A couple of the homeowners were home, and one ended up in the hospital. So I try to keep tabs on those who are most vulnerable, to help make sure they stay safe.”
“Oh, that makes sense.”
“So, why Havensport?” he asked.
“I just wanted to get away,” she replied. “There’s nothing wrong with that.” She ate another piece of steak.
“Well . . . Whatever reason you ran away, don’t let life force you to hide.”
“I’m not running,” she protested.
Colt acted like he didn’t hear her. “And for God’s sake, don’t make friends with the housewives in the neighborhood. Miranda and her husband are nice, but the rest . . .” He scowled as he trailed off.
“I heard you have quite the fan club.”
“Fan club.” He grimaced. “They need a goddamn hobby or better yet, jobs.”
Ophelia smirked. “I think you’re it.”
“I wish they would just leave me the hell alone.”
“Sorry. You’re too handsome for that, so you might as well get used to it. Or maybe work it to your advantage.”