Page 9 of Rattlin' Bones

I felt safe with him if you didn’t count the creepy skeleton mask. “Are you going to take off the mask?” I asked as I joined him, taking a seat on one of his stools that faced his direction. The breakfast bar had enough room for four people and plenty of space to entertain. Interesting. Did he have friends or women over often?

“I suppose it’s a bit odd to wear it inside.”

Yes, it seemed weird to insist on it.

He pulled up the mask, lifted it over his head, and tossed it onto the counter beside the stove. I watched him stirring something in a pot. Since he was cooking, I couldn’t see his face yet.

“Soup. Figured you could use the broth.”

How thoughtful.

“I appreciate that.”

“It’s no trouble.” He turned off the burner, poured the soup into a bowl, and brought it to me. He added a spoon and a hunk of warm bread as he placed it down.

I blinked. “You’re full of surprises.”

Soft, masculine laughter shook his chest. “Maybe.”

When I glanced at his face, I nearly gasped. He wasn’t at all what I expected. For one, he was much older than I first realized. I thought he’d been closer to my age, but I was wrong. Light scruff covered his square jaw. A mustache and goatee in a dark brown tinted with red stood out against his tanned skin. He had expressive hazel eyes and high cheekbones. His nose wasstraight and the perfect size, neither too big nor too small for his features.

His head was shaven, and the rugged look, handsome face, loads of dark ink, and towering height made him pure eye candy. At least for me.

“I thought you were my age,” I blurted when I noticed I had been staring far too long without saying anything.

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “I’ll be forty in a few years.”

“I’m a little younger than that,” I joked, not wanting to admit how many years spanned between us.

“If I had to guess, I’d say you’re in your early twenties.”

“Twenty-two,” I admitted. “But I’m mature for my age.”

He winked. “I’m sure you are.”

This had gotten weird fast. I felt his stare as I finished my soup. With the bowl nearly empty, I pushed it away. My body felt stiff. I slid from the stool and nearly fell over.

Skel rushed to my side. “You’re weak. I bet it’s just fatigue.”

He was probably right. “I need to get home.” I stifled a yawn. “Could I use your phone now?”

“Sure.” He handed it over, unlocking the screen as he led me to a couch. I sat down, feeling far too lightheaded. I was going to pass out soon. The food and warm atmosphere let my body relax.

I wasn’t looking forward to this call. My father was going to lose his shit once he knew I was okay. He answered the number after only one ring, even though it wasn’t someone he knew. “Dad?”

“Lacey! Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling your phone for hours. Whose number is this?”

“I’m okay. I promise. It’s a long story.”

“Are you hurt? Do you need help?” He sounded frantic.

“Dad. I’m fine. A friend is bringing me home.”

“What happened?”

“I think I should tell you in person.”

He sucked in a breath. “Did some asshole force himself on you?”