Page 38 of Wild Highway (Runaway 2)

Easton didn’t find me funny.

I followed him to the kitchen, leaving the front door open, as he set the cooler beside the fridge. He bent and flipped open the lid to start unloading, but I waved him away. “I’ll take care of it.”

“’Kay.” He stood and walked outside.

“Goodbye,” I called after him, then turned my attention to the cooler. “Nice to see you too. And thanks. I did do a great job cleaning. How kind of you to notice.”

“Talking to yourself?”

I jumped at Easton’s voice. “I thought you left.”

He hefted a tote in the air. “Wine. From my grandma.”

“Carol gets me.” I stood and took the tote from him, setting it on the counter. Then I waited, assuming he’d actually leave this time unless there were more gifts in his truck.

But he didn’t leave. Easton walked into the living room and ran a hand through that thick, soft hair as he glanced around. He’d traded his normal, long-sleeved plaid shirt for a fitted thermal. The textured cotton stretched across his biceps, showcasing the strength of his arms. It molded to his torso and that flat stomach.

If he’d just smile, a little, he’d be so incredibly handsome. Gruff and stoic worked for Easton. The man was a challenge and an enigma. His serious composure gave nothing away and that was a turn-on for a woman like me who enjoyed the uphill battle.

I’d learned in my week here that he didn’t have a wife or girlfriend, but I had no doubt the local ladies swooned over his rugged, somber exterior. But a smile . . . damn, I wanted to see a smile.

I’d seen it once—eleven years ago when he’d taken me to his bed, and I hadn’t forgotten it in all this time.

Easton’s smile was unmatc

hed. It was rare. Maybe the reason it was so special was because he gave it to so few people.

“Looks good in here.”

My hand flew to my heart and I feigned surprise. “Was that . . . a compliment? Did you actually say something nice to me?”

His lips pursed into a thin line.

“Oh, relax.” I turned to the cupboards and opened the one where I’d found glasses earlier. “Would you like to stay for a glass of wine? Or has five minutes in my presence irritated you enough to leave me alone for a week?”

“I don’t drink wine.”

“Of course, you don’t.” It probably went against the cowboy code to drink anything but milk, water, black coffee, beer and whiskey neat.

“But I’ll take a glass of water.”

Seriously? I’d been joking in the invite. Why would he take it? What was he up to? I didn’t ask as I filled his glass from the tap, but I kept an eye on him as I uncorked a bottle of Cabernet. I’d thank Carol later for including the opener in my tote bag.

“Here you go.” I handed him his water as I joined him in the living room.

Easton took it and sat on the couch, tossing one long arm over the back. Then he lifted an ankle, crossing it over a knee.

“What do you want?” I sat in the chair and cut right to the chase. Easton wasn’t here to be friendly.

“You. Gone.”

“You’ll get your wish in three months.”

He studied me, his gaze full of scrutiny.

“What? No reminders that I won’t make it?” I asked.

“No. You know how I feel.”