Page 64 of Little Sunshine

“Want me to help you brush it?”

My heart froze at the mental image that tried to form, but I quickly pushed it away.

“I’m good.” I quickly stepped outside in hopes that the fresh air would bring my sanity back.

Wow.

“Wow,” I repeated out loud that time. Because thinking it didn’t do the beauty justice.

The house wasn’t in a development of other identical houses. Positioned on a hill, the sprawling yard of gorgeous desert greenery seemed to go on forever. Other houses were in the distance, but they might as well have been in different zip codes.

Like a god on Mount Olympus, overlooking the mere mortals.

“Go down,” Ash ordered, his rumbling voice right in my ear.

My head whipped around so fast, I could practically feel my brain rattle inside. My gaze landed on Ash’s chest, and I had to arch my neck to meet his hazel eyes. Whatever words I had on my tongue died there at his closeness.

So close.

The silence stretched for hours—that were actually just seconds—before he jerked his head to the side toward the yard. “Go down to the walkway. The view from there is better.”

Oh.

Right.

I barely noticed as my dirty clothes were slipped from my hold, too distracted to even think about protesting. I moved down the steps as he added, “Hold on to the railing.”

I did as he ordered and went down before turning around.

And losing my breath.

The house was big, but it wasn’t as obscenely huge as I’d imagined. It also wasn’t a cookie-cutter show home. It was modern and angular and unique.

But that wasn’t the best part.

That honor went to the mountains, which served as a backdrop.

Movement caught my attention, and I looked in time to see Ash’s retreating back.

My shoulders loosened even as my belly clenched.

It was a reaction that made sense in its contradiction. Everything about Ash made me feel off-kilter.

Clearly needing the fresh air and the distance, I walked farther down the path, moving slowly as I looked around.

Minus the rat infestation in The Roulette, and a smaller appearance of their cousin Mickey at my apartment, I had limited experience with animals. A lizard or cute animal sighting would be fun.

A scorpion—or worse—not so much.

Not that I needed further proof of it, but my guess that he only had his boss’ car because his was broken down was very far off. In addition to the tarped vehicle and SUV that were inside, a fancy matte-black car and a muddy Jeep without the roof or doors were parked in front of the other two garage doors.

Near the driveway, the heavy greenery gave way to a dusty rock section. The plants there looked like they’d seen better days. Curious what’d caused the destruction, I stepped to get a closer look.

Tire marks.

From a wild, ferocious vehicle.

Some animal tracker I am.

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