Indigo Jameson stood in the hallway, facing the entrance to the living area, the broom clutched in both hands raised high, staring at the horror that sat in the middle of the living room rug.
It was huge.
She’d never seen an insect that big in all her life.
It was all long, segmented legs, quivering antennae, and sharp, pointy bits of chitin.
It was like something out of a prehistoric nightmare.
She’d just gotten off the phone with Beth after discussing the latest development in her housing woes. Finn had finally found a manager for the horse ranch, which meant she was going to have to find a place to live. The farmhouse was part of the employment package, and even though she wasn’t going to be forced out, she’d decided she didn’t want to live with some stranger.
What she’d wanted was to sit on the couch with a nice cup of chamomile tea and think about her options. Except she’d been foiled by the horror sitting on the rug.
She hated insects. She hated them. And the last thing on earth she wanted to do was deal with this one, but since she was alone in the farmhouse and the only person to help her was herself, she had no choice.
Ah, well. What else was new? She’d been taking care of herself since she was fifteen, and quite frankly she’d done a damn good job of it, thank you very much.
One spiny, horrible insect was not going to get the better of her.
“Okay, Mr. Insect,” she said aloud, because of course the insect was male, and men were the worst. Especially ones who menaced innocent females with their sharp, pointy bits. “We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way.”
“I’m all for the easy way myself,” a deep, melted-honey voice said from the direction of the front door. “What’s up, Indy? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Instantly Indigo’s heartbeat sped up.
Great. Naturally it would be him. The bane of her life.
Levi King.
Where had he sprung from? She hadn’t heard a car come up the farmhouse’s long gravel driveway. Then again, she’d been involved with Mr. Insect over there and not listening out for visitors.
But she had no time to be annoyed by Levi’s sudden appearance, not when that thing on the rug might dart at her. Hell, perhaps it could even fly. Now there was a horrifying thought.
“It’s okay,” she said determinedly, because she certainly didn’t need him to help out. “I have it under control.”
“You’ve got what under control?” Levi strolled up beside her and glanced into the living room. “Oh, you mean that wētā?”
Indigo blinked. “Wētā?”
“Yeah. That big insect sitting on the rug over there.” Levi stepped into the living room and walked casually toward the horror. “Don’t worry, I’ll get rid of him for you.”
“Don’t touch it!” Indigo shrieked, not caring about her dignity as he bent down toward the insect. “It’ll probably kill you!”
The bastard only laughed. “If you shriek like that, he might.” Levi reached out and much to her shock scooped the wētā into his palm. “Come on, Wally. Let’s take you outside. What did I say about scaring the ladies?”
“Wally? Don’t tell me that thing has a name.”
“All wētās are Wally.” Levi straightened and gave the insect a little stroke. “It’s the law.”
She didn’t care what it was. She wanted it out of her house.
Indigo pressed against the wall of the hallway, trying to put as much distance between her and the insect yet also trying not to look like she was.
Levi strode unconcernedly past carrying the wētā and disappeared outside.
Five seconds later he was back, grinning that ridiculously attractive grin that made her go hot and shivery and breathless at the same time it made her want to punch him in his stupid, handsome face.
“There,” he said, hazel eyes dancing with an amusement she felt sure was at her expense. “Don’t worry, I didn’t hurt him. I gave him a good talking-to, then let him go.”
Indigo realized she was still holding her broom aloft. She lowered it, tried to grab hold of the remaining shreds of her dignity, and sniffed. “I had it under control.”
Levi glanced at the broom. “Sure you did.”
Indigo sniffed again. “Why are you here, Levi? You didn’t even knock.”
“No, I didn’t.” The amusement in his eyes gleamed brighter, taking on a hint of wickedness that made her skin prickle with heat.
Damn man. He was up to something; she’d bet her life on it.
She’d also bet her life that it would annoy the hell out of her.
“Indy,” he said, using the nickname she pretended to hate but was secretly delighted by, “I think I might have a solution for your housing difficulties.”