Page 18 of Renard's Deliverance

Made no difference to her where she walked. With a shrug, she moved up next to him. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” he replied sarcastically.

Opal rolled her eyes. “You have more mood swings than a teenager.”

Silence.

He stepped forward and drew open the door. She stared at him a moment before walking past him. Opal still wasn’t used to the way that men treated women here. And, damn, as she walked past him, she got a hint of his scent.

Gingerbread.

He was killing her.

“Still think I might have landed in Stepfordville,” she muttered.

He snorted, sounding amused as they stepped outside. “Thought that for the first year I lived here. That there was no way everyone could be this . . . nice and genuine. Then I realized that they aren’t all nice or all good or all perfect. They’re just normal, decent people.”

“Normal?” she repeated.

“You and I, we’re not used to decent being normal. We’re used to decent being the exception not the rule. Where’s your coat?”

“Huh? Oh, I forgot it.”

“Don’t do that again.”

They approached a huge, blue truck and instead of going for the driver’s side after he unlocked it, he opened the passenger door.

“Don’t do that again?” she repeated.

“Yeah, don’t forget your coat again.”

“It’s not even that cold out.”

“You need one. Up late at night on your own, walking in the dark with no coat. Damn fool things to do.”

“I am not a fucking fool.” It took a bit to really rile her. To really and truly make her angry.

But he was getting close.

“Could have fooled me.”

“I’m sure people do, darlin’,” she drawled as she got into the truck.

He closed the door with a soft click. With a sigh, she leaned her head against the headrest.

She heard him get in, but he didn’t start the truck straight away. What was he doing?

Opening her eyes, she turned her head toward him. Even though it was night, there was plenty of lighting out in the parking lot. Devon looked after his customers. So she could see Renard tightening his hands around the steering wheel.

Tense. Relax.

Tense. Relax.

She followed the movement, growing more anxious by the moment. Was he going to turn on her? What had she done to make him angry?

Suddenly, he turned, and she flinched back into the door.

Fuck. Shit.

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