Page 7 of Falcon

“If you deserved it. Maybe not to death, but it would have hurt,” I say with an arched brow.

“In only a towel?” he replies.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. I completely forgot.” I shimmy back to half-hide behind the door, absolutely mortified, just peering around so he can only see my head.

“You’re not the first woman I’ve seen in a towel first thing in the morning, you won’t be the last.”

He has this cocky, cavalier attitude about him. I instantly don’t like it, but at the same time, I absolutely do, and I hate that fact.

He’s a very good-looking man. Hot even. Dark hair, dark eyes, tattoos in a sleeve down one arm…basically he’s sex on legs. And it’s irritating when I’m trying to be suspicious of him.

“Uh, okay, well, Nora and Case go for breakfast by the river on Sundays. I’m sure they’ll be back soon.”

“Billie Eilish fan?” he asks randomly, completely ignoring my previous statement.

“What? Oh. My music.” I step back inside to turn it down. “Some of her music makes me happy in the mornings.”

“I think she’s a little odd.”

“That must mean you’re closed-minded,” I fire back, with an arch of my brow. The words slip from my lips before I even realize it.

“Are you this rude to guests all the time?”

The nerve of him.

“You’re not my guest. You’re a stranger on my porch, uninvited.”

He extends a hand to me nearly before I can even finish my sentence. “I’m Marco Masen. There, now I’m not a stranger.”

I stare at him for a moment, surveying him closely before tentatively reaching out to shake his hand. “Faith Morgan.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

He holds my hand a little too long, and I try to ignore how warm his touch is and how it literally makes my palm tingle until I pull it away.

“Thanks.” I purse my lips a little, swaying on my feet. “It was my great grandmother’s name.”

“I’m sure she was just as beautiful as you.”

“She’d appreciate that.” My tone clearly implies I’d love to end this conversation, and my humiliation, and go put clothes on. Thankfully, he takes the hint.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your shower dance party with your music. Thanks for not, you know, murdering me with the baseball bat.”

“You may not be so lucky next time.” I smile a little.

He laughs at me. “It was nice meeting you, Faith Morgan.”

“You too, Marco Masen.”

He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans and turns to head down my steps, showing me his back that is so sculpted I can see it underneath the leather jacket he is wearing.

I’m just about to turn back to head inside when he speaks again.

“Actually, most people call me Falcon. Let’s stick with that.”

“Falcon?”

His lips spread and curl up into a smile. “Yeah, I like that out of your mouth much better. Later, Faith.”

“Later…Falcon.”

When I finally close the door, I lean my head against it and take a breath.

What the hell just happened?

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