Delaney crossed her arms and all but stomped her fuzzy-slippered foot—which would not have helped prove her maturity, so she refrained.
“I’m well beyond sixteen. I just happen to like peanut butter and jelly. So how about I make you a sandwich while you get your things together and then you can lea—” Another thought interrupted the first. “Where’s your car?”
He shook his head and opened the refrigerator. As if he owned the place. “I don’t have one. The church bus dropped me off.”
“The church bus?” Oh, no. Not another preacher’s son. She would’ve rather he’d been dropped off by an alien spacecraft.
“Yep. Church bus. Hallelujah and amen.” He did the Jesus woot-woot with both hands, then pulled an apple from the top shelf. He really wasn’t catching on to the whole get-your-ass-out-of-here vibe she was sending. He seemed to be more in the make-yourself-at-home mode.
“Well, if you don’t have a car, then we should call you a cab. It’s getting late, and in case I haven’t mentioned it, I’d like you to leave.” The sooner she could get him gone, the sooner she could start to breathe again. He didn’t seem like the tabloid-reading kind of guy, so there wasn’t much chance of him recognizing her, but it was unnerving to have a total stranger in her house. Or his house. Landlady’s son or not, she didn’t know anything about him.
Except for what he looked like naked.
She did know all about that. Hiccup.
“Yeah, about leaving.” He set the apple on the counter and ran both hands through his wet hair, slicking it back a little. It looked good that way. Sexy, which Delaney so did not need to notice. Her lungs went whump as her knees went goosh.
He took a step toward her. “See, my family doesn’t know I’m back in town yet. I was hoping to surprise them, but it’s too late to do that tonight, so I think I’ll just crash here and call my mother in the morning. In the meantime,” his voice dropped and his mossy-eyed gaze met hers, “how about if I make that sandwich for myself and you can entertain me with a story about why you have a backpack full of cash sitting in the closet.”
All her blood seemed to clot in place, leaving her queasy and breathless. She leaned back, as if she could physically evade the question. “You went into my closet?”
One light brown brow lifted and he crossed his thick arms. “Technically it’s my closet. Where’d you get that money?”
Damn it. She’d had a lot more control over the situation when he’d been naked and soaking wet. A man without his pants was a man willing to negotiate, but right now she was the one exposed and vulnerable. She took a big, deep breath. “The money is mine, and I don’t owe you any explanation. That was totally unethical of you to go through my things.”
He shrugged, broad shoulders flexing under white cotton. “It was an accident, but maybe we should call those police now and we can both talk to them.”
He was bluffing. What a bluffer!
Delaney straightened up and stood her ground. “Why would you call the police just because I have my own money? This is none of your business, you know.”
He tilted his head. “Probably not, but I think I’d sleep a little easier if I knew you weren’t some mobster’s girlfriend who helped herself to all the loot in the casino safe.”
Her fisted hands went to her hips. “Do I look like a mobster’s girlfriend?”
Well, that was a stupid thing to ask. She didn’t want him studying her face that way. She may as well pull out the latest edition of Us magazine and show him her picture, although since arriving in Bell Harbor she’d given herself long bangs with a pair of dull scissors and dyed her normally highlighted hair a nondescript brown. With no makeup, she looked a lot different than those stock photos tabloid magazines used for covers. Still, she wished she’d put on her fake glasses. She pulled her new bangs down and over to the side as if that might hide her identity while Mr. Plain White Tee stared. Evaluating. Scrutinizing.
“No. You don’t look like a mobster’s girlfriend,” he finally said, “but I’m trying to figure out why somebody with that much cash on hand would be renting this old house in Bell Harbor.”
What the hell was she supposed to say to that?
Of all the houses in all the towns, she had to go and rent a place that wasn’t really up for rent to begin with, and one that came with a man inside. That was some shit luck. Almost as shitty as having her old boyfriend sell their sex tape to the tabloids. What had she done in a previous life to deserve this particular situation?