Page 33 of Steel

I was getting way too old for this. Panting, I rushed into the room, fearful of finding him with blood gushing or the puppy having destroyed the kitchen with his long tail.

When I found my little boy hyperventilating, his jeans pockets turned inside out, I had no idea what was going on.

“What is it, bud? You scared me to death.”

He lifted his head and for the first time in so long I was heartbroken; tears were falling down his face. “I lost it. I can’t find it anywhere. I was going to show it to Zorro but it’s not here!”

Floored, I walked closer. “Honey, what are you talking about?”

“My car. My favorite car. The one you got me for Christmas.”

Holy shit. I knew he adored the little Matchbox that I’d picked up from the Dollar General Store, but I certainly didn’t know how much. He was so upset I knelt to his level, resisting my motherly urge to grab him like a baby and holding him in my arms. “Are you sure you didn’t pull it out and leave in your new room? Maybe on the dresser or the nightstand?”

“No!” Rarely was I faced with him being a little kid, either in throwing a tantrum or allowing any sadness. Once upon a time when he was four and had seen me cry, he’d promised to be my protector. Since then, I’d seen him tear up once.

On the night his bastard of a father had dared tell me to my face that he couldn’t give a shit about a kid he’d never wanted. And Damon had been listening. My beautiful little boy, who’d been so eager to see his daddy that he’d changed clothes three times, had been devastated.

I’d never seen anyone so hurt and I’d wanted to rush after Kenny, screaming at him that he’d never have the privilege of seeing his boy again because my son was too good for him. I’d refrained, something I now regretted. I’d handled that later in the court systems, but my little man, my rock didn’t need to know just how horrible his biological sperm donor truly was.

The man was a piece of shit, not a father, but he’d given me the greatest gift I could ever imagine.

He rubbed his eyes with his small fists, a highly thoughtful look on his face. “Maybe.”

“Well, why don’t you take Zorro in and find out?” I prayed he’d find it or I’d be combing the woods on my hands and knees.

“Okay.” He nodded a few times, his shoulders rising and falling in a dramatic sigh. “Come on, Zorro. I need to show you our room anyway.”

As the two of them scampered away, I had to face the fact I’d just adopted a dog. Now I could only pray the pup didn’t belong to somebody.

Other than the horrible neighbor.

I was now the one sighing as I stood, a slight chill scouring my bones. It was June and I was freezing, which meant my nerves were overactive.

If Damon didn’t find the car, I’d need to keep his mind off the disappearance until I could figure out what to do. Maybe I could find a metal detector in town. Were the cars even made of metal? Ugh. This was turning out to be a horrible day.

I’d barely made it into the living room when I heard a loud boom, as if a cannon had been smacked against the front door. Jumping, I bit back a shriek while staring at the door. Was someone trying to break in or bring me a fruit basket as a welcome?

Bam! Bam! Bam!

The fruit basket was doubtful with the knock being so impatient. I debated answering the door but soon wouldn’t be able to hide. Not with what I was trying to do.

More likely the horrible man had called the police. I wouldn’t mind giving them an earful.

As soon as I unlocked and threw the door open, prepared for a bear, I regretted doing so.

“Oh, it’s you.” My neighbor stood in all his glory, studying me with what I’d heard was called a shit-eating grin on his face. He was still wearing the same worn but form-fitting jeans. His mop of dark chocolate hair still had the Just Been Fucked look. All I could think of was running my fingers through the thick tufts. And the scruff on his face was even sexier than I’d remembered, outlining a square jaw chiseled from the finest slab of granite.

Thankfully, he’d slipped into a red tee shirt, but it was practically painted on his muscular body. Forget about his arms, they were bigger than my calves, enough ink on both I could spend hours tracing the lines with my finger. Even though every inch of him was gorgeous, his eyes captured my full attention.

Well, most of it anyway.

They were hazel in some light while being bright spring green in another, both completely luminous.

He was also still barefoot.

Arms of steel.

Thunderous thighs.