FOUR

Seychelle pulled her Mini Cooper into the space allotted for parking in what was supposed to pass for the entrance to the garage at Doris Fendris’s little home. Doris lived on one of the well-kept back streets of Sea Haven. The Victorian-styled houses had small but beautifully manicured yards surrounded by little fences overgrown with flowering hedges. Seychelle was very grateful for her choice of car and her ability to maneuver into small areas. For some unexplained reason, even the garage and space in front of the garage were tiny.

Of all the people she tended to visit on a regular basis, Doris was probably her favorite, because she was always upbeat. Her house smelled like fresh-baked cookies and it was always clean. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming. The porch was badly in need of repair, especially the front stairs. Seychelle carried her tools in the trunk of her car all the time. She wasn’t the handiest with them yet, but she was learning. She’d discovered she could find tutorials on just about anything on YouTube, and she visited the website regularly.

She’d purchased nails and a few other items she thought she’d need, but really, Doris needed the wood on her entire front porch replaced. Seychelle wasn’t quite up to replacing a porch yet. She’d bought the proper lengths of already cut wood necessary for the stairs, and then stained and sealed them herself. She thought she could pull up the old stairs and replace the boards with the new ones. She really hoped whatever the top boards sat on wasn’t rotted as she feared it might be.

She needed to keep herself busy. The moment she stopped, her mind went straight to Savage, which wasn’t a good thing. She thought about him far too much. She thought about the way his body felt next to hers and the way his hand felt crashing down on her nearly bare bottom. Long walks didn’t wear her out, and she didn’t sleep most nights. She hadn’t gone to the club Thursday night because she knew Savage would be there and she’d be too tempted to take the job just to stay connected to him.

Instead, she’d driven to El Matador Beach and stayed in a bed-and-breakfast she’d found after her parents had passed away. It was her go-to place when she was upset. She spent a week there, taking a picnic basket and book and going to various hidden coves she’d discovered. She did her best to try to forget all about Savage. She rented a bicycle and spent time exploring places she’d never been before, and then walked for hours in order to rid herself of the restless energy she found she had—or the dark fantasy thoughts she shouldn’t have.

Her phone rang the second day she was there. She saw it was a call from Savage and her heart went wild. It took every ounce of discipline she possessed not to answer it. He called on and off all that day and into the night.

Text messages began coming in. One after another. You all right? She didn’t answer. A day later: Getting worried, woman. The temptation to answer almost overcame her good sense, but she didn’t want to engage with him. The third day he had clearly lost his good mood. What the fuck, Seychelle? Getting pissed here. I’m worried.

Okay, that wasn’t fair on her part. She didn’t want to worry him. She just didn’t want to get her heart broken. She thought a lot about what to say back. I’m fine, just thinking about things. Tell the band thanks, I really appreciate that they liked my voice, but it would be better if they got someone else.

Apparently, Savage was more adept at texting than she was. His reply took seconds. You’re going to get yourself in deep shit with this nonsense. And you damn well better not be smoking.

She hadn’t been, but the moment he sent that little order, she instantly felt like finding a pack of cigarettes. She didn’t, because she had really wanted to quit. She started after her parents had died, when strangers around her seemed to be sucking the life out of her and she couldn’t find a way to make them stop. She didn’t know how to protect herself from the bombardment of their illnesses for the longest time, so she kept to herself as much as possible.

She’d been so exhausted she hadn’t been able to move. Not just for a few days or weeks; it had taken months to recover after her father died. Even now, sometimes a long walk could make her lungs burn for air and leave her body exhausted.

“Are you going to sit in your car daydreaming, Seychelle?” Doris demanded, startling her. “Come out of there and have some tea and cookies.”

Seychelle heard her phone play “Wrong Side of Heaven” by Five Finger Death Punch and knew Savage was texting her. He had stopped after their exchange eight days earlier. It had gone on for too long, and she’d let it, engaging with him because she couldn’t help herself. That was the trouble. She just couldn’t stop herself where he was concerned.

Ignoring her phone, she waved at Doris and hopped out of the car. “I was contemplating whether to start on the stairs right away or drink tea. I’m not the best carpenter, and if I mess up your stairs, it will be terrible. I won’t have time to fix them before tomorrow.”

“I have a back door in the kitchen, Seychelle, that leads to the outside,” Doris said. “I can always use that if I have to. Let’s have tea and sit on the front porch in the rocking chairs. It’s ready now. It will get bitter and cold if we wait.”

Seychelle couldn’t help but admire the woman. She was just so pragmatic about everything. Her porch had needed repairs for a long while. The stairs were so bad that she had to avoid one of them to keep from falling through, and the railing around the porch was rickety, yet she was all smiles and welcoming. Her favorite thing was to sit with visitors on her porch in the rocking chairs and just talk.

“Sounds like a plan. You get the tea and I’ll get the tools. I can get set up out here while you’re getting everything together.”

Five Finger Death Punch played again, warning her that Savage was getting restless with her lack of replying. It made her want to smile. She was certain if she texted him first, he would take his sweet time answering, but she never did. She wouldn’t. She was lonely and she knew it. She didn’t have friends her own age. She couldn’t. She didn’t know how to protect herself. It was easier just to stay in the little world she’d created for herself. When she needed to, she would find people like Hank and his really bad band, sing with them for a short while and then, when it got too much, she’d quit and walk away.

Doris waved at her, turned to open her screen and disappeared inside her house. Seychelle pulled her phone out of her back pocket and looked down at the message. You aren’t home.

Her heart jumped and then accelerated. He was somewhere very close. She was almost afraid to inhale, afraid if she did, she’d take him into her lungs. She immediately texted back: Visiting an old friend. She thought that was very clever. She wasn’t even lying.

Better be a female friend.

Sheesh, the man could text fast. Where had he learned to do that? Smiling, she sent a few laughing faces his way that told him nothing at all. He sent her back a series of hands smacking bare butt cheeks, which made her burst out laughing and grow warm at the same time. Truth be told, her panties went a little damp. Where did one even get emojis like that?

She pocketed her phone and carried the wood and then her pink toolbox up to the porch, feeling inexplicably happy. She loved sparring with Savage. It was insane and a little bit like poking a tiger, but it was thrilling and made her feel alive when most of her days were spent alone on long rambles, hiking to the waterfalls or walking the headlands.

Doris poured tea from her blue polka-dotted teapot into two mismatched polka-dotted cups. The saucers were different colors as well. It was Seychelle’s favorite set out of all the tea sets Doris had—and she’d collected quite a few over the years. The little sugar pot was very cute, with hot pink polka dots, and the creamer holding milk had red dots.

Doris had a plate of oatmeal raisin cookies as well as chocolate chip cookies because she never wanted to be caught without something for her guests. The little table had plates and napkins because Doris believed in making her visitors feel special.

“You really don’t have to fix my stairs, Seychelle,” she said as she rocked gently and looked out over her small garden of roses. “You know I just love your company.”

“I’ve really had fun learning all about it,” Seychelle admitted, pouring genuine enthusiasm into her voice. “I don’t think I’m ever going to be a master carpenter, but I like learning new things. This has been a challenge. I just hope I don’t find dry rot or whatever they call it when I take off the top boards. The man at the mill told me I should have checked.”

The tea was excellent as usual, a black currant, one Seychelle had never had before and probably wouldn’t have thought of trying. She had learned Doris was very adventurous with her tea choices. When she’d asked her about it, Doris had laughed and said she had few ways left at her age to be adventurous.

“Well then, dear, I suppose I’ll find my old pair of overalls and help you, although once I get down on my knees, you might need to call the fire department to get me back up again.” Doris burst out laughing.

Seychelle laughed with her, feeling lighter than she had in a long while. Doris was genuine in her moments of sheer joy. “I don’t think I’ll need help. You can sit in the rocking chair and advise me.”

“But there might be some cute single firemen,” Doris objected. “I’ll sacrifice the knees to find you a man.”

As if on cue, Seychelle heard the unmistakable rumble of a Harley as it approached. She took a sip of the black current tea, her pulse kicking into high speed. Immediately, every nerve ending in her body went on alert. Her gaze jumped to the street. He was there on the bike, looking every inch the dangerous biker. He didn’t so much as glance up to check if she was on the porch; he just drove right up as if he owned the place and was there every day, parked his Harley behind her Mini Cooper and got off with that hot fluid grace that took her breath every time.

“Oh my,” Doris said, fanning herself. “It looks like we have company. I wore my watch with the heart monitor, and it’s a good thing. That man would give any woman a heart attack.”

“I agree one hundred percent, but let’s not tell him. He’s already arrogant enough,” Seychelle whispered, taking a bite out of an oatmeal cookie and trying not to wish it was Savage.

She watched him stalk up the walkway like some jungle cat, setting her heart pounding. Muscles rippled visibly beneath the tight black tee he wore under his open vest with his Torpedo Ink colors. He didn’t stop coming, taking the steps, his weight making them sag and creak, blocking out the view until he was the only thing she saw. His large frame. That broad chest. The intimidating muscles that went on forever. Eyes so blue they could be a glacier but burning so intense they were like a flame moving over her. Lines carved deep in his face. Strong jaw.

“Scared the crap out of me, woman. Don’t fuckin’ disappear on me like that again. Next time, I’ll have the cops lookin’ for you, and you know how I feel about them.”

He bent and brushed a kiss on top of her head. Just that gesture, coupled with the intensity in his blue eyes, set her heart pounding.

“Would you care to introduce me to your friend, Seychelle?” Doris said, her voice a little faint. She fanned herself with her hand. “I can get a chair from the kitchen so he can join us.”

“I’m Savage, ma’am.”

He introduced himself because Seychelle couldn’t find her voice. She pressed her fingers to her lips and stared at him, shocked that he could do that to her, just short-circuit her brain with that look on his face.

“Doris Fendris.”

Savage threaded his fingers through Seychelle’s left hand. “I’m her fiancé.” There was a trace of amusement in his voice, although his expression didn’t change. He looked as scary as ever. “Been missing her, and she forgot to check in with me again, so I came looking.”

Doris’s gaze dropped to Seychelle’s bare finger. One eyebrow arched.

Seychelle tugged at her hand, finally managing to find her voice. “He’s full of it. He’s my fake fiancé.”

“She says that because Ice hasn’t finished the ring yet.” The pad of his thumb slid over her ring finger once. “Looks like you’re working on repairing the stairs?” He made it a question. “Have you checked the supports under them, baby?” He was already reaching for the toolbox. He drew his hand back and turned slowly to level his glacier-cold eyes on Seychelle. “What is this supposed to be?”

She did her best to glare. It was difficult when Doris giggled like a schoolgirl and fanned herself again. Savage’s hand did look ludicrous hovering above her pink toolbox. Nevertheless, she refused to smile, sticking her chin in the air. “I presume you are speaking of my toolbox in that derogatory tone.”

“Is that what you call this thing?”

“It is a perfectly good toolbox.” She gave him her snippiest look.

“Seychelle.” His tone said it all. “It’s pink.”

She raised her eyebrow. “I’m really becoming concerned over your lack of imagination when it comes to color. I’ve noticed your motorcycle is an unrelenting black. And then there’s your clothes. All black again. There’s a theme here. Black. You need color in your life, Savage.”

Doris giggled again, drawing Savage’s attention. “Miss Doris,” he said, “Czar and Blythe’s girls have jars and collect money when any member of Torpedo Ink swears. They have enough to go to college, I think, and then some. It’s a good idea that you get yourself a jar about now.”

Savage turned his complete focus back on Seychelle. “My motorcycle is unrelenting black? You’re attacking my bike? My ride happens to be a 2015 Night Rod Special, not all black—it has gunmetal-gray trim, not to mention the gray skull.”

There was a dark promise of retaliation in his voice. On his face. In his eyes. She liked sparring with him, but he could be intense. His Harley was his baby.

“You’re attacking my toolbox.”

“Babe. Really?”

“And you’ve never once suggested I get a jar for your foul mouth.”

“You don’t get a jar because you cause the swearing. Miss Doris makes cookies and she can use the money for bingo. Hand me one, babe, the chocolate chip. They smell great.” He held out his hand.

Seychelle gave an exaggerated sigh, snagged the smallest chocolate chip cookie on the plate and gave it to him.

“Who’s to say I don’t love my toolbox just as much as you love your Harley?”

Instantly, Savage’s expression softened. “Did someone special give you the tools, baby?”

She was teasing him. She didn’t want him to feel bad. Immediately, she shook her head. “No, I purposely bought pink so I could easily identify my tools when I took them to other people’s homes. I didn’t want to mix them up.” In other words, she’d had tools taken multiple times and she didn’t want to keep having to buy more, but she wasn’t saying that in front of Doris. It would be repeated to every single one of the men and women who played bingo on Thursday nights. Doris would take it upon herself to reprimand anyone who came near Seychelle’s tools.

“I bought the tools myself and I taught myself to use them. I’m fixing Doris’s stairs before she falls through,” she informed him, lifting her chin at him.

Savage took his time eating the cookie, all the while focusing on her face. “I think we’ll continue this conversation at home, along with the one about letting me know where you are so I don’t worry so much.”

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “That reminds me. How did you find me? I didn’t tell you I was with Doris.”

“I’ve got eyes everywhere. You should know that.”

Which didn’t tell her anything. She glanced down at her phone. Was there some kind of tracking program on it? How had he really found her?

He finished the cookie, clearly enjoying every bite, ignoring her suspicious glare. “Excellent, Miss Doris. I’ll have to tell Alena about your cookies. She loves different recipes for chocolate chip, and these are right up there with hers.”

“Everyone talks about Alena’s baking,” Doris said. “Inez Nelson over at the grocery store said no one is better, and she would know. And it’s just Doris, none of this Miss.” She let out a little gasp. “I know who you are now. Inez told me all about you. You helped Donny Ruttermyer out when he got into trouble. That was so sweet of you.”

“Savage is always sweet,” Seychelle said, just to annoy him, her gaze glued to his face. She saw the flicker of heat in his eyes and knew it embarrassed him to be caught doing something nice. He turned those laser-cutting eyes on her, daring her to keep teasing him. Naturally, she couldn’t stop herself. “Who is Donny Ruttermyer, Doris?” She asked the question deliberately, because it was the last thing he wanted her to do. She sent him a little taunting grin.

Savage let his burning gaze drift over her face and down her body in a slow, heated perusal that nearly made her catch fire. She felt as if he’d purposely ignited a wildfire deep inside of her.

“Goin’ to get yourself in more trouble than you’re already in, woman.”

“Donny has Down syndrome and lives in the little apartment across the street from the grocery store, right above Donna’s Gift Shop,” Doris explained. “He’s a good boy and usually is pretty good at taking care of himself. Inez and Donna Baker look after him. Jackson Deveau, the deputy sheriff, helps him most of the time, but Donny got into some trouble with his checkbook and Jackson wasn’t around. Donny got very upset and no one could calm him down, so Inez sent for Savage. He took care of it right away.”

“Why would Inez send for Savage?” Seychelle asked, all teasing gone. That didn’t make any sense at all, and she really wanted to know.

Savage leaned back, gripping her bare ankle beneath her jeans with one hand while he snagged two more cookies off the plate with the other. His palm began to slide up and down over her calf and the scars there. He seemed to do that a lot, and she realized for the first time that not only did it soothe him, but he actually fed her energy that others drained from her. He didn’t just take from her. He gave to her. He’d done it when they were alone together in the bedroom. She sat up straight, going very still as realization hit. That was part of the reason she found his company so exhilarating. He wasn’t just taking.

“A couple of years ago, Czar and the others came to town and there were horrid men from another club in Inez’s store destroying the place. They smashed things and were pushing Donny around. They weren’t going to pay for anything either,” Doris said.

“We can change the subject anytime, Doris,” Savage said.

Seychelle had missed him so much. Missed the way he made her laugh. Missed the way he made her feel so alive. The energy he provided. And she hadn’t even realized until this very moment, sitting on the porch with Doris, that Savage gave her back what those in need took from her. As revelations went, it was a pretty big one. Huge. She had always been the caregiver. The nurturer.

The idea that Savage didn’t just take made her feel strange. Self-conscious. As if she was taking from him something she shouldn’t be. Did he know? Was that why he was always rubbing her leg? The scars that connected them? She thought of her scars that way. His hand, under her jeans, continued to slide up and down her leg slowly, the pads of his fingers tracing the ridges and whorls of the raised scars. She thought he’d done that for himself, and she’d loved it. Now she didn’t know what to think. She nearly pulled away from him, but was afraid if she did, he’d be hurt. She wasn’t positive how she knew that, but she did, just as she knew the more time she spent with him, the more danger of getting her heart shredded.

“No, no, Savage. People need to know that you boys were good to Inez and Donny. Czar, Savage and the others took those bad ones out of the store and into the street, Seychelle. Taught them a lesson too, right before the cops showed up. Donny hero-worships those boys, and Savage in particular.”

Savage let out a little groan. “Seriously, Doris? Half of Torpedo Ink was there, not just me. I beat the shit out of someone and you think that’s a good thing?”

“Yes, I do,” Doris said staunchly. “Sometimes there’s nothing else to be done. Those men would have hurt Inez and Donny.”

Savage heaved a sigh and shook his head. “Inez talks too much.”

“I think Doris is right,” Seychelle declared, meaning it. “You do good things. You might look different, but you do very good things. He saved a little boy’s life a few weeks ago. That’s how we met. Dropped his bike in the road, scooped up the kid out from a truck coming straight at them and ran. Everyone else was just frozen and screaming.”

“Oh my,” Doris said. “Does Inez know about this?” She sounded breathless. “She always knows everything first, but she never said a word.” There was no doubt Doris planned to tell every single one of her friends at bingo or cards.

“If she doesn’t, don’t tell her that bullshit story,” Savage snapped. “It isn’t true.”

Savage’s fingers never stopped moving on Seychelle’s leg. The feel of his skin against hers was mesmerizing. Every stroke felt like a caress. Her nerve endings were raw, and his touch sent little sparks of electricity up and down her leg. She wasn’t certain if it felt good or if it hurt, but it made her feel very connected to him, and she didn’t want him to stop.

“It’s true. You did lay down your bike and you did scoop that boy up and run to get him out of the path of the truck,” Seychelle pointed out. She didn’t want him to ever forget that he had saved that child. He would have given his life for that boy.

“And you shoved us both out of the way and took the hit,” Savage said, his fingers suddenly gripping her calf like a vise.

He tilted his head back to look up at her, his glacier-blue eyes meeting hers, focusing completely on her in that way he had. He made her feel that he saw only her—that only she mattered to him. Her stomach did a slow somersault. Seychelle knew she was extremely susceptible to him, the need for him so deep, so physical, she knew she would have to guard her heart carefully if she was around him for even the briefest of times.

The moment she was near him, the craving for him seemed to grow. Now, knowing that he did for her what no one else in the world had ever done, what maybe no one else ever could do, added an extra layer of need to her addiction to him. He gave back to her. He nurtured her. And he had that draw of darkness in him that her body responded to. That was doubly dangerous to her.

At once, Doris’s entire demeanor changed. She looked much older, the lines in her face deepening. “Seychelle.” Doris breathed her name. “You were hit by a truck? Were you hurt? You never said a word to any of us.” She put down the teacup, because her hands shook so badly she’d spilled some of the contents. “I couldn’t bear to lose you, honey. You should have told me. This is terrible.”

Savage began his slow massage again, up and down Seychelle’s leg, from ankle to knee, his palm sliding over the raised scars. “Didn’t mean to upset you, Doris. She’s just fine. That’s how we met and how she became my fiancée. Right then.”

Seychelle could have kissed him. He knew exactly what to say to distract Doris.

“Fake fiancée, Doris,” she reminded.

“Why fake, Seychelle?” Doris asked. “He seems like quite a catch, and you’re not getting any younger. You run off anyone in the least interested in you.”

“He’s bossy. Really, really bossy,” Seychelle pointed out. “You have no idea how bossy he can be.”

Savage turned his head alertly toward Doris. “She have quite a few men interested?”

Doris nodded vigorously. “There’s not a lot of women that look like Seychelle in town. She’s a real looker and so sweet too. She walks down the street, and the next thing you know, they’re coming out of the woodwork.”

“Seriously? Just stop, Doris, we were talking about Savage, not me,” Seychelle said, but she couldn’t help laughing. How did he do that? One minute all the teasing was about him and the next the spotlight was on her. “In case you hadn’t noticed, he’s eating all your cookies and I can guarantee he won’t gain an ounce of weight. Not one single ounce. I had two cookies and I’m going to have to jog for miles to keep from gaining ten pounds.”

“I like that you’re not a stick, woman.” Savage sounded exasperated. “And I don’t think you ate while you were away. You lost at least three pounds.”

She had, but he couldn’t know that. She made a face at him, and he grinned at her and then toed the toolbox.

“What’s in that thing?”

“Tools, and don’t make fun of my toolbox.”

He leaned toward it, his hand slipping off her leg, leaving her feeling deprived. It was strange how much she found she had missed him. Not just verbally sparring with him, but his touch. She narrowed her eyes at him as he gingerly opened the toolbox as if it might bite him.

“Babe.” One word. He looked up at her. “Really? What the fuck is this supposed to be?” He pulled out one of her favorite tools.

The handle was pink. She really liked it, not only because it fit nicely in her hand but because of the way the rubber felt. “It’s a hammer, you moron. A perfectly good hammer. Since clearly you aren’t in the least familiar with tools, I can go over them for you, name them and their uses if you’d like.”

“Doris, you may need to put your hands over your ears and eyes for a minute so you can’t testify in court.”

“Oh dear, are you going to threaten her?”

“I do want to strangle her occasionally,” Savage admitted, “but right now, I thought pulling her across my knees and paddling her sweet little ass would give me more satisfaction. Unfortunately, the snoop across the street is staring at us with a pair of binoculars, and she’d definitely call the cops on me.”

Doris gasped and glared up at the curtains that were peeled back from the upstairs window facing her house from the one across the street. “Sahara Higgens is a terrible person. She’s always so jealous when Seychelle comes to visit me, and she spies on us.”

Seychelle followed her gaze up to the second-story window. “Does she live alone?”

“Yes, she does. Her boyfriend left her a couple of months ago for someone much younger, and who could blame him? He’s so sweet and tried so hard, but she was always doing everything she could to mess his life up. Now she’s a bitter, nasty woman. She won’t come to bingo or join our sewing circle or even come out of her house. Well, it’s really his house. He lets her live there, even though it’s causing friction in his new relationship, and she’s so ungrateful. He should just evict her. Inez has to have Donny deliver her groceries.”

Seychelle bit at her lower lip. That didn’t sound good to her. Something about the way Doris’s voice sounded when she was telling her about her neighbor bothered Seychelle—sent up a big red flag. “Does she have children, Doris?”

“No, he said she was too vain and didn’t want to mess up her figure.”

Seychelle shook her head several times, rejecting the idea of what Doris was saying. Her mind just couldn’t accept that verdict. Doris sounded like a parrot, as if what she was telling them had been told to her over and over until it was forced into her brain, almost like hypnotism. “How old is she?”

“Maybe thirty.”

“Thirty? I thought you were going to say your age,” Seychelle said. “Her boyfriend left her for someone much younger? How old is he?”

“Well, honey, he hit on you several times. Brandon Campbell. I couldn’t believe you turned him down. He’s so handsome and sweet. He would always come over when she had her screaming fits and apologize to me. We’d sit and drink tea together. He’d ask my advice on what to do with Sahara, how best to handle her. He’s still so good, comes to see her a lot of the time, trying to reason with her. I thought for certain you’d want to go out with him.”

Savage had his piercing blue eyes on Seychelle’s face. She knew she couldn’t keep her dislike from showing on her face. Brandon Campbell was an arrogant bully. Extremely good-looking, charming, almost mesmerizing like a cobra, he’d definitely tried to get her to date him. Or at least sleep with him. When she hadn’t, he had been very cutting to her. She’d seen right through him. He also had a psychic gift that he used, a subtle persuasion, and he didn’t use it in a good way.

“How old was the woman he tossed his old girlfriend out for?” Savage asked.

“I think she had just graduated from high school,” Doris said vaguely. “They aren’t married. They live together.”

“Isn’t he pushing forty?” Seychelle asked.

“Oh, no, dear,” Doris shook her head. “He isn’t that old.”

Seychelle inclined her head. “I’m afraid he is, Doris. He’s a total creeper. You can’t believe a man just because he comes off all charming sometimes. That woman he told you all about, she might just need a friend or two.” She indicated the house across the street. “You say she has her groceries delivered? Does that mean you never see her leave the house?”

“Now that you mention it, no. She never comes out.” Doris stared at the house for some time. “Did Brandon do something to you? Is that why you never went out with him? I’ve never heard you say a bad word about anyone, Seychelle.”

“I didn’t exactly say anything bad, only that you can’t believe everything a man says just because he comes off as charming. He wasn’t very nice when I turned him down.”

Savage had somehow managed to slide back onto the porch until he was between her thighs. He’d done so when he’d scooped up several cookies. Laying his head back in her lap, he stared at the windows across the street. “Where does this creeper live now, Seychelle?”

The question was delivered in his very low voice. Very soft. Something about the tone sent a chill down Seychelle’s spine. Looking at him, he appeared as relaxed as could be. Legs stretched out, one arm casually circling Seychelle’s left thigh while the other was propped on her right one so he could feed himself the cookies. She wasn’t buying into that seemingly tranquil pose, not for a moment. She could feel that well of violence in him rising like a red tide.

“Baby.” He turned his head, his blue eyes meeting hers. “Asked you a question.”

Her heart stuttered. Those eyes pierced right through her. Savage could look very scary when he chose. The arm circling her thigh shifted, and his palm slid back and forth in a mesmerizing glide on the back of her leg, as if he could soothe her, countering the absolute demand in his eyes.

“Not going to ask again, Seychelle.”

“I don’t keep track of him. I have absolutely no idea where that man lives.”

“He bother you? Even after he decides to live with this child out of high school? He still come around and bother you? Is that why you call him a creeper?” His blue eyes never left her face. His posture never changed from that lazy panther relaxing on the porch. His voice was pitched low, almost gentle, but she caught the underlying menace, that ever-present rage swirling too close to the surface.

“I made it clear, Savage.” She leaned down and deliberately took a bite out of the cookie he held in his hand. “It’s getting late and I have to get working on the porch. I don’t want Doris falling through the stairs. The second step is rotted almost all the way through.”

“I’ll take a look at it, but we’re going to have to stick a couple of decent tools in this toolbox if you’re going to insist on going around fixing things.” He sat up. “And the conversation isn’t over. You’re racking up all kinds of trouble, baby.”

“What does that mean?” Seychelle asked.

“Just don’t want you saying I didn’t warn you.”

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about half the time.” She found herself speaking to his back as he opened the toolbox again and peered inside. He ignored her, swearing under his breath at the multitude of pink tools inside the box.

Seychelle looked up at Doris. “Stop fanning yourself. Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?”

“Does it really matter, dear? He’s magnificent, and you’re engaged to him.” Doris looked very smug as she looked at the empty cookie plate. “I do wish it were bingo night.”

“You can’t tell your friends I have a fake fiancé.” Seychelle had the unexpected urge to kick Savage right in the middle of that very broad back. She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he stripped away the rotted top boards from the stairs. He did it easily, with no wasted effort.

“Not fake, Doris,” Savage said without looking up. “Ice is working on the ring. I told him exactly what I wanted for her, Doris. She’s got those eyes. I know everyone wants traditional diamonds.” He yanked on a board on the next stair down, swore and shook his head. “Told Ice I wanted something to match her eyes. He showed me these killer blue diamonds. Dark, almost teal blue. Never saw anything like them. Just like her eyes.”

“You’d better be making that up.” Seychelle turned her blue eyes on Doris. “He’s totally making that up to make me crazy.”

“Babe.” He gave her his one-word response, which he seemed to think spoke volumes.

She rolled her eyes. Doris fanned herself again. She was absolutely no help, and she clearly was going to repeat every word of the conversation to her friends.

“Seychelle, come look at this. It’s all rotted. All of this has to be replaced. If it isn’t, Doris is going to have an accident on her porch. I’m going to get the brothers out here tomorrow to take the porch apart. I’ll measure everything now with your bullshit pink tape measure. We’ve got wood lying around the clubhouse takin’ up space. It’s a small enough job that we should be able to knock it out in an afternoon, if that’s all right with you, ma’am.” Savage glanced over his shoulder at Doris for confirmation. “Master and the others will be glad to get rid of the lumber. They get so much extra from all their jobs, and frankly, we don’t have a place to store it. You’d be doin’ us a favor.”

Doris raised a hand to her hair. Seychelle could see it was trembling. She had a lot of pride. “If you’re certain they need to get rid of the lumber. I can’t pay them for it. It looks like it would be a lot.”

Seychelle felt herself slipping just a little more down that inevitable path toward Savage. She didn’t want to go there. She knew it was too dangerous, but the way he leveled his cool blue eyes at Doris and shrugged had her heart stuttering.

“You should see the stacks of lumber we have layin’ around the place, ma’am, not only at the clubhouse, but it’s spillin’ over to Player’s house now.”

“Savage.” Doris conceded with a nod. “May I get you some tea?”

Savage winced. “Don’t drink the stuff, Doris. Blythe tried to convince me it wasn’t poison, but so far, I think she’s full of . . .” He broke off. “Let’s just say no, thanks.” He beckoned to Seychelle, and she put down her teacup and moved closer to examine the boards that he’d uncovered beneath the stairs.

Savage waited until she sat on the porch before he dug at the exposed network of wood with the claw part of the hammer, pulling it apart easily. “It’s rotted. The lumber should have been treated and sealed. I’ll talk to Master and Player. They’re good with this kind of thing. You don’t want Doris or any of her guests falling through.”

He wrapped his hand around Seychelle’s ankle beneath the hem of her jeans, touching her bare skin, and the moment he did, a thrill shot through her, proving just how susceptible to him she really was.

“Doris, do you have another entrance you can use? One safer than this?” Savage’s hand moved up and down Seychelle’s calf while he questioned the older woman, instantly establishing a connection between them again.

“Through the kitchen. The back door leads to a porch.”

“After we measure, I’d like to check that porch as well, just to make certain it’s safe, if you don’t mind. Seychelle, you do have a paper and pen or pencils in here, right?” He scowled down into the toolbox as if it might bite him if he put his hand inside.

“You’re such a baby.” She pulled a pencil and notepad from an inner pocket.

He groaned. “Who knew they made pink pencils and notepads? And why aren’t you afraid of me the way everyone else is?” He shook his head and knelt to use the tape measure.

He had to repeat himself three times because she was fascinated with the way his muscles rippled when he was crawling around on the porch. The faintest hint of a smile lit his eyes, but he kept barking out measurements and then had Doris take them through her house to the back porch, which turned out to be in just as bad a shape as the front one. He measured that as well.

“We’ll be back tomorrow, Doris,” he promised, “but I’ve got a steak and some tofu marinating, so I need to get Seychelle home, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, Savage. It was wonderful to meet you. No need for you boys to worry about food—I can make something.”

“Alena will not be happy if you do that, other than make your cookies. She’s going to want to meet you, and she always brings food. Tons of it, but when I tell her about your amazing cookies, she’s definitely going to want to taste them,” Savage assured her. “She gets her feelings hurt if she isn’t the one bringing the food. I hope you don’t mind letting her cook.”

“No, of course not. I just need to do something when you’re helping me,” Doris said.

“You’re helping us. Czar’s going to be happy the lumber’s gone. It’s a fire hazard. And Alena gets to show off her cooking as well as meet you. You’re doing us a huge favor, whether it feels that way or not. Expect a big turnout. The club will use this as an excuse to have a barbecue together. Another reason to thank you.”

Doris looked so happy she might burst into tears. She nodded several times, her lips trembling, but she didn’t say anything.

“Thanks for looking after Seychelle for me. She’s a bit of a handful sometimes.” He carefully replaced the tools, took Seychelle’s hand and tugged until she went with him to her car.

“I’ll meet you at home, babe.”

Great. Now he was referring to her house as home right in front of Doris. She didn’t know how to feel about that. Correction, she knew how she felt, but she also knew how she should feel.