***
Kate saw Bigsby standing in front of the bank, holding the door open and smiling like he’d won the lottery. She snarled. He certainly didn’t look like someone who’d just lost one of his workers to such a brutal death.
She stepped closer and swallowed. “I’m sorry to hear about your employee.”
His smile left his face in a hurry as he sought to look mournful. “Thank you. It was quite a shock, I must say.”
“What a horrible way to die.” She didn’t bother suppressing the shudder that ran down her back.
Bigsby’s cold eyes found hers and he gave her a quick nod. “Yes, well there’s nothing to be done about it now. Life does go on.” Just like that, his smile was plastered back on his perfect face.
Unease coiled in the pit of her stomach as his fa?ade of self-assurance slipped across his face. What did Bigsby know that she didn’t? Surely she wasn’t about to lose her home. Surely there was something right in the universe where the little guy who worked hard all his life would prevail.
“I must say you look lovely today, Kate.”
“Thanks.” She gave a polite smile and then hurried past him and into the warmth of the bank.
“There is something different about you. You have a glow.”
Her foot caught the edge of the rug and she stumbled. The only thing that would have that effect on her would be Braxton Devereaux and the multiple orgasms he’d given her.
“Must be my new lotion.” She kept walking, hoping he would just leave her alone.
“I was hoping to talk to you before your meeting with Mr. Weatherford.”
She froze. Slowly she turned and faced him. “How did you know I have a meeting with the bank president?”
He shrugged, and a sinister smile crept across his face. “I know a lot of things in this town. For instance, I know that guy you’ve got up at your place is bad news.”
She curled her fingers into her palms as her blood boiled. “I don’t think my houseguest is any of your business.”
“You don’t know anything about him, Kate. Where did he come from? What does he do? He certainly doesn’t look like he can hold down a job with all those tattoos.” He frowned, his perfect brow creasing.
She sucked in a breath and chose her next words carefully. “I still own the Bella Luna and I honor my clients’ privacy.” Bigsby was either afraid that her business was picking up or he was jealous at how hot Braxton was. She bet it was a little of both.
“As far as his tattoos go, I like them. I think they’re hot.”
His eyes rounded in disbelief, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She fought the urge to tell him in detail of the tattoo on Braxton’s back, just to rub it in his face.
His lips puckered into a tight circle. “You need to be careful who you let into your bed and breakfast. You’re so isolated and if there was trouble, no one could help you.”
A shiver ran across Kate’s back.
Bigsby gave her a curt nod and walked past her to the first open teller.
She hurried toward the bank president’s office. The bank secretary looked up from her computer screen and smiled warmly.
“You can go on in, Kate. He’s waiting for you.”
She straightened her shoulders and stepped through the door.
The bank president smiled and waved her toward the empty chair while he wrapped up his telephone conversation. She took a deep breath and braced herself for the next few minutes.
***
“You really gonna eat all that?” Braxton looked at Damon’s plate overflowing with food.
“What are you trying to say?” Damon narrowed his eyes as he curled his arm over the edge of his plate and pulled it closer.
“Five ham sandwiches, two bags of chips, a liter of Dr Pepper, and almost a whole pie.”
“So?”
“So? If I ate like that I’d be five hundred pounds and couldn’t get my fat ass on my Harley.” Braxton’s stomach dropped as reality set in. He no longer had a Harley. His Harley was long gone at the bottom of the mountain.
“I just recently started eating this much. It’s like I can’t get enough food. Yet, I don’t gain an ounce.”
“Probably from all that sex you’re getting.”
“Probably right.” Damon took a large bite out of his sandwich and smiled.
“I’m getting sex. So why am I not eating like an elephant?” Braxton folded his arms across his chest.
Damon finished off his sandwich and swallowed. “Are you having sex every three hours?’
Braxton’s mouth fell open. “Every three hours at night?”
Damon snorted. “Every three hours around the clock, man.”