She breathed out and leaned back against the bathroom door. And recited the alphabet backwards three times.
“E, D, C, B, A,” she whispered, lifting a hand to her forehead. Safe for one more day. She shook her head and pushed back out into the bedroom.
She grabbed her overalls off the ground and the fortune cookie fell out of the pocket. She went to throw it in the little trash by the toilet but then paused.
Rolling her eyes at herself, she ripped the little package and pulled out the cookie. Cracking it in half, she slid the little paper out and read the message.
Live every day like it’s your last.
She couldn’t help but laugh. Wow. Spot on, fortune cookie gods. Considering any day could be the beginning of the end for her.
As shitty as today had been, what the hell would she do if tomorrow she detected a tremor?
She rolled her eyes again. God, she was being an idiot, letting a goddamned fortune cookie get to her. It was just a stupid gimmick. Bubba had probably ordered the damn things from Fortune Cookies R Us.
Popping the stale cookie in her mouth, she munched on it while she gathered her dirty clothes and tossed them in her laundry bag. She pulled on an oversized University of Wyoming t-shirt.
Then her stomach rumbled. Hmm. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Probably not the best idea to eat at eleven-
fifteen.
But Mel had gone through all the trouble of making her a plate. Who was she to deny the woman the opportunity to be hospitable?
Calla headed back downstairs. Mel had showed her around yesterday so she knew where the kitchen was.
She flipped on the light and went for the fridge. She was leaning over to look for the plate Mel had left her.
And only remembered she was just in a T-shirt that skimmed the top of her thighs when a low, masculine voice said, “Well hello, gorgeous.”
4
MACK
The first thing Mack knew was that he wanted her.
Whoever the woman with the sweetly curved ass currently pawing through the refrigerator was, he wanted her. Which made no damn sense because one, he didn’t know her from Adam and two, he didn’t go for that shit anymore.
He’d made it his business a long time ago not to want anybody ever again. Some people in this world were shit. They were born shit, and they’d die shit. He was one of those people. It had taken him a long time to accept it. He’d even tried going to college and pretending to be something other than he was. Lasted a whole four months. ‘Cause fuck it. Truth was truth.
He tried not to spread his shit around too much. Kept to himself.
So wanting someone, anyone, but especially the owner of that particular sweet ass was a problem.
Then again, maybe this was just a dream. Maybe he was still upstairs, face down on his bed.
His sleep had been restless all week. It got like that sometimes. Too many ghosts came out at night. You didn’t spend eight years in lock-up without getting jumpy when the lights went out.
He’d come down to the kitchen to do what he always did when he couldn’t sleep. He plotted. He went through, step by step, his plan to take revenge when the time was right.
“Well hello, gorgeous,” he said, still half-convinced he was talking to a dream.
The way she squealed and jumped about a foot in the air sure seemed fucking real, though.
Shit. Mack hadn’t meant to scare her. He sat back in his chair at the little table near the bay window and held up his hands.
She gasped and spun around.
Mack expected her to recoil once she saw him. Covered in tattoos from his neck to his wrists, he knew he could be an intimidating bastard. That was generally the point—but never when it came to women.