Page 49 of Property of Rattler

Reaching for the oven gloves, I rescue the bacon, which at least looks edible, then start carving the loaf of bread we’d only taken out of the freezer yesterday. “Bacon sandwiches it is,” I announce. “And Flynn? Maybe leave the cooking to me for now.”

Grimacing, he gives a stiff nod, then takes the offending frying pan outside. A good move. I suspect it’s beyond saving. He also leaves the door open, and at last, the stench of burning starts to dissipate.

When he returns, he joins me at the dining table, ruefully glancing at the bacon sandwich, which clearly was nothing like what he had planned. I pick up my coffee and take a sip, noting at least he hadn’t ruined that.

Suddenly, his face changes as he smirks. “Thought I knew what to do after watching you cook. But now, woman…” He points his sandwich in my direction. “I’m sure there’s black magic involved. You must be a witch casting spells over the food.”

Despite my earlier thoughts, I grin. “Is that right?”

“Yeah,” he says, seriously. “You throw shit in the pan, wave your hands over it, and it cooks just right.”

Mockingly, I copy his earnest expression, and I raise and dip my head. “You’re right. It’s sorcery.” I don’t care if I’m belittling my skills, as it’s lightened the mood. We grin at each other and dig into the breakfast we do have in front of us.

When my plate is empty, I lean forward. “How’s your ankle today?”

He sits back at the change of subject and lets out a heavy sigh. “I think I hurt it worse than I wanted to admit. Let’s just say I won’t be running any marathons for a while.”

“You’ve been trying to do too much.” I remonstrate. “You should keep your foot up. Are you sure you didn’t break anything?”

After emitting another long exhale of breath, he admits, “Can’t tell you that. I keep hoping it’s just a bad sprain.”

Which is partly my fault. “I’m sorry I ran away from you.”

Leaning over the table, he takes hold of my hand and tells me earnestly, “Fuck, Ames. I can’t blame you. I was an ass.”

“And now?” I ask, wondering if I’ll get a truthful answer to my question. “Why are you suddenly being nice?”

He gives a twisted smile. “Honestly?”

I nod. I want the truth, though I’m suspicious he won’t give it to me.

But he meets my gaze head-on. “Ames, I kind of built up an expectation of the person I thought you were. Clumsy, of fuckin’ course, I’d seen that for myself. But when I learned you came from money, I convinced myself you were spoiled.” He shakes his head. “You know I’m an asshole, right?” I fight to keep my face neutral. “Well, I’m known for poking the bear, and I think the club’s got fed up with me yanking everyone’s chains. I decided Bullseye used you and this situation as payback. Getting hitched?” He huffs a mirthless laugh. “Not something I had on my bingo card. Being expelled from the club to the middle of nowhere with a bitch I didn’t even like? That was some fucked-up revenge.” His face twists, and still he’s staring straight at me. “I built you up as one thing. Over the last few weeks, I’ve slowly been finding I had you all wrong. From that first fuckin’ night when you made a bed up for me?” His head shakes. “That, andother things, didn’t add up. Slowly, I admit, but I started to let go of who I thought you were and began to see you for yourself.”

A blush covers my cheeks. “I’m nothing special.”

His eyes now blaze with an intensity that almost sears me. “Yes, you are.” He swallows hard. “Ames, this will make me sound even more of an asshole than you already rightly think I am. But you’re the first woman I’ve ever wanted to get to know.” He opens his mouth as if he’s going to add something else, then closes it. After grimacing, he turns his head away, only for a moment, then he looks back, his back straightening as tension fills his body. “You want me to apologise for that kiss last night?”

All my reservations fly to the wind. “Fuck no.” I rasp out my reply. “If you really meant it, I’d like you to do that again.” His face lights up. “But…” I hold up my pointy finger. “That’s as far as it goes.” I’ve got to be strong, I remind myself.

He raises his chin, that male gesture that normally means acceptance or compliance. I suppose only time will tell whether his easy acquiescence can be trusted. Then he stands and, still holding my hand, encourages me up from the chair, saying, “Let’s go sit outside for a moment.”

“The plates?” And the mess in the kitchen.

“I’ll get to that later.”

For once, I’m not worried that we’re not following the mantra,you cooked, I’ll clean up.It’s his mess. He can deal with it.

But as we walk hand in hand outside into the sun, and he leads me to a bench set at the top of the yard, with a view back down to what in this light looks like an idyllic cabin, I start to wonder whether I’ll survive this new side of the man I’m officially married to.

CHAPTER TWENTY

RATTLER

I’m still holding Ames’s left hand, idly tracing the ring that I’d so reluctantly placed on her finger, knowing she’s suspicious of how my feelings have changed. How can I explain that I don’t understand them myself? I hadn’t lied. Before her, there was no pillow talk, no real conversation at all. To me, women were only good for one thing. Out of bed, they were a waste of my time. But Ames?

She’s attractive, I’d been a fool to ever think otherwise, and it’s not just her looks, it’s the whole damn package. Her company, her quick wits, her wisecracks, the way she throws herself into everything, even getting excited over a simple game of Snap. Her enthusiasm is infectious. If I’d been stuck here with anyone else, my lack of mobility would have made me morose, but she draws me out of any funk. It’s becoming impossible to be my normal self around her, and deep down, I believe she might even be turning me into a better man.

Though there’s still part of me wondering whether I’ve softened toward her, as she’s the only female for miles. It plants enough doubt that when she said she wants to limit ourinteractions to just kissing, while my cock’s in disagreement, I can see the wisdom in that. I question whether what’s developing between us is just down to our circumstances and isn’t real.