He was staring right at me.
Through me, really.
Like he could see through my clothes, specifically. And boy, did I feel that. Right down to my toes.
I jumped back from the window, nearly knocking over a lamp in the process. I righted it and casually strolled into the kitchen where Gran was baking a full tin's worth of bran muffins. I stared at her, wondering if that monster next door had made her life a living hell. She hadn't said a word about it.
Gran carefully stacked the muffins on a plate covered with a napkin. Funny . . . she didn't look like she was being terrorized by Satan-worshipping bikers. She looked healthy and happy, with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes. I frowned at the number of muffins she'd made. Not only was it a full tin, but she'd made lemonade from scratch. We must be expecting company. Usually, she only made half a tin.
Gran was big on healthy eating and had raised me to be mindful of what I put into my body. That was a big reason I had decided to go into helping sick people. Even though the nursing program was challenging, to say the least.
"Gran, you didn't tell me that we had new neighbors."
"Neighbor. It's just Hunter over there."
My grandmother looked at me shrewdly.
"He's single, though there has been a stream of pretty women coming and going. I don’t think he’s dating any of them. Why? Do you like him?"
“Oh, my God, Gran! He looks like a criminal!"
"Well, then, he must be if he looks like one, right?"
I gave Gran a look. I knew what she was doing. I'd heard the 'don't judge a book by its cover' lesson a hundred times. Normally, I didn't. But this guy . . . well, there was no mistaking him for what he was.
A first-degree badass.
"All the same, I expect you to be polite when he stops by."
I stared at Gran in shock. What was my sweet old grandmother doing inviting that cretin over for muffins?
"When he what?”
"Go fix your hair, dear. He'll be here any minute."
"Gran!"
My grandmother looked at me with an arched eyebrow. It was the look that said 'don't you sass your elders, young lady.' That look had kept me on my toes since I was two years old.
"I promised him muffins after he fixed the front door for me a few days ago. Doesn't squeak anymore in case you didn't notice. Added some extra security too."
My grandmother grinned at me cheekily.
"Those criminal types know all about that sort of thing. Now, go freshen up."
I ran into my bedroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Gran was right. My hair was disheveled from my interrupted nap. Not that I cared what the guy thought. I didn’t care what any man thought of me, for that matter.
Oh, yeah, I'd been off the market for quite some time.
It wasn't that men didn't like me. They generally seemed to when I actually gave them the time of day, which was never. I just didn't have the energy for romance. Plus, I just wasn’t interested in anyone who’d offered.
It was safer just to rebuff them automatically. Put up my walls. Keep my goals in sight and my eyes on the finish line.
I’d spent the past few years with my nose in a book and now I was almost a licensed RN. My dream of being a nurse was so close I could taste it.
I'd passed all my exams. The only thing left was passing the state test. That's why I was finally home now after all this time. It had been too far to travel on my brief breaks to visit Gran. I'd seen her a handful of times a year the entire time I'd been at school. It had been hard but necessary. Gran’s monthly check didn’t go that far. It was my responsibility to take care of both of us.
Plus, I'd been too exhausted to do anything more than order takeout or do my laundry once a month. But now my student housing stipend was gone, and I was here to study and make my next move.
Maybe if I were lucky, I'd even find work at a nearby hospital. Gran was all the family I had, and I'd missed her terribly the past few years. Phone calls just weren't enough. The plan had always been to come home and start off with a great job. Really look after Gran as she got older. But this new unwanted element in the neighborhood was messing with that.
How was I supposed to study with biker parties next door? I groaned. I'd just left one house with a couple of party girls. I needed my sleep, not to be worried about keggers and roaring engines.
Ding-dong
Startled aqua eyes stared back at me from the mirror. My only good feature. I hastily put my hands on my head, smoothing down the wisps that curled around my face. My long, light brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail with a pink bandana wrapped around my head, making me look like Rosie the Riveter. I was wearing tight denim cutoffs, tennis shoes, and a tight T-shirt. Nothing particularly cute or fancy.
In short, chore clothes. Or study clothes. Or 'everything else I own is in the laundry' clothes.
Who was I kidding? These were my everyday clothes. I was hardly a fashion plate. I was hardly ever off duty and had zero wardrobe to show for it. Maybe once I had a good job . . . maybe I'd finally get to spend some money on something fun, like shopping.
I shrugged. It was probably hopeless, anyway. Gran always said that I wouldn't know a ladylike outfit if it bit me on the ass.
Of course, Gran always said ‘tush’. She was far too well-mannered to use the ‘a’ word. I was a little more, um, plainspoken.
I moaned, looking at my face. There was a smudge of dirt over my upturned nose. The silly nose that made me look like I was twelve years old. My eyes were makeup-free just like usual, as was the rest of my face. I swiped pink lip gloss across my annoyingly pouty lips and sighed. I looked like a kid. Certainly not scary enough to intimidate the big guy next door into good behavior.
There was no hope for it. The daisy dukes would have to do. Hopefully, the creep would take his muffins and leave.
It was too bad I wasn't wearing my scrubs. They were shapeless and hid my curves. Plus, they made people take me more seriously.
I called them my 'armor'.
Anything to make sure that Mr. Harley Davidson next door would take me seriously when I told him to keep the noise down or to tell his buddies not to park their bikes on Gran's lawn.
"Claire bear? We've got a visitor!"
I squared my shoulders and followed the sound of Gran's voice into the kitchen. It was a cheerful yellow and white room overlooking the back yard, originally decorated in the 1950s, not large, certainly not new, but always spic and span. But the room felt different today. It was now filled with one enormous man.
Hunter stood by the table, his head seeming to almost scrape the ceiling. He took over the room without doing a damn thing. Up close, he was even more alarming looking. His muscles were covered in terrifying looking tattoos. Demons and devils and roses and thorns. I squinted, noticing that some of the thorns actually appeared to be bleeding.
It’s terrifying, but also kind of beautiful, I thought for a moment before pushing the thought aside.
He was watching me, I realized. His face was hard lines with cool, ice-blue eyes that seemed to stare right through me. So, I hadn’t been imagining it.
He was well constructed, almost too handsome, but in a blockbuster movie villain kind of way. The kind the girl might not mind being taken prisoner by . . . and not even bother trying to escape from.