Page 9 of Auctioned to the Devil

I stop beside the porch and point toward the ground. “Don’t step there.”

Naturally, she steps closer. I look at her. She looks at me.

“Are you always this good at following directions?”

“Are you always this good at giving orders nobody asked for?”

“Yes.”

That shuts her up for maybe two seconds.

“Wow.”

I crouch near the foundation. A crack runs from the corner almost eighteen inches toward the center. Worse than the last time I checked it.

Emily moves closer. “What’s wrong?”

“Foundation shifted.”

“How bad?”

“Bad enough you shouldn’t be standing there.”

She immediately looks down. I stand and catch her around the waist before she can take another step.

She freezes. So do I. My hand spans her side, fingers curling instinctively as I pull her away from the weak section.

She’s smaller than I expected.

Warm too.

Her palms land against my chest, and suddenly she’s staring up at me from less than a foot away.

Neither of us speaks.

Her lips part.

My attention drops there before I can stop it.

Bad idea.

Everything about this woman has bad idea written all over it.

“You can let go of me now,” she says.

Her voice isn’t nearly as steady as she probably wants it to be.

I look back into her eyes.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You stopped moving.”

“Because a giant man grabbed me.”

“You were about to step onto rotten boards.”