Page 145 of Rust or Ride
“Dex?” Emily whispers.
“Did I wake you?”
“No.” There’s a click as she unlatches the screen door.
I open it and slip inside.
“What’re you doing here?”
“I missed you.”
The corners of her mouth turn up. “You just saw me a few hours ago.”
“It wasn’t enough.” I lean down to kiss her, but she ducks to the side.
“Hang on.” A heap of black metal flashes in her hand as she skirts around me. She stops at the antique-looking entryway table that I’ve never given much thought to, and slides open a long, slim drawer, revealing a biometric safe about the size of a shoebox.
A million thoughts race through my head as she presses her thumb to the keypad, unlocking the safe, and stashes a small black pistol inside. She shoves the drawer closed and faces me.
“You always answer the door gun-in-hand?” I ask.
She cocks her head as if it was a dumb question. “Don’t tell me guns bother you?”
I snort. “No.” I step closer, resting my hands on her hips. “In fact, I’m very turned-on by a woman who’s ready to protect herself.”
She huffs a soft laugh and leans into me. “Of course you are.”
More serious now, I stare into her troubled hazel eyes. “I didn’t mean to scare you, though.”
“I thought it was you, but I wasn’t completely sure.”
While I tried to make light of it, I’m bothered that she feels so unsafe in her own house that she keeps a gun by the door. “I hope I didn’t wake Libby,” I say.
Emily turns toward the stairs. “She’s all the way at the end of the hallway. Farthest from the road. I doubt it.”
“Good.” I pull her closer. She tips her head back and I press my lips to hers. She sighs, her body melting against mine.
“I’m happy you’re here,” she whispers against my lips. “Just in case that wasn’t clear.”
I release her for now, turning to shrug out of my cut. Heat hovers around me like a cloud. Emily must set the temperature high at night. Or I’m chilled from the long ride. I unbutton my flannel and pull it off too.
“You can keep going,” she teases.
I flash a lopsided grin. “Not until you earn it.”
“Ooo.” She fans her hand in front of her face for a second. “Hey, are you hungry? I made chicken and broccoli for dinner and there’s a lot left over.”
I’m about to say I don’t want her to go to any trouble when my stomach rumbles. “Yeah, if you don’t mind.” Besides, I need something to do so I can keep my hands off of her for a few minutes.
“I wouldn’t have asked if I did.” She turns and gestures over her shoulder for me to follow.
In the kitchen, she quickly dishes a generous portion of chunks of chicken and bright green broccoli onto a plate. “I don’t have any rice,” she says. “We had cauliflower rice with it and there isn’t any of that left.”
“Looks good the way it is.”
She throws me a grateful smile.
“You think I’d show up unannounced and demand you cook for me?” I ask.
