“Yes.” She slid him a look. “Is there a reason?”
“Does a paying customer have to give you one?” He asked this with a casual, teasing tone, but his body language was anything but casual or teasing.
Nope, she thought, watching him pull a camera from his duffel—an expensive one with a long-range lens—there was nothing flirty about the man at the moment, no matter what his words said.
She circled around and once again they flew over the area, nothing but forestland with the exception of an area that looked as if it had been clear-cut recently. Inside the clearing was a circle of vehicles. Hunters, she thought at first, but there were way too many cars for a usual group of hunters. “That’s new,” she said. “I was out here two weeks ago with another client and the landscape hadn’t been touched. And I’ve never seen so many hunters in one spot before.”
He took a few more shots and then slid the camera away and turned to her. “You’re sure?”
“Very.”
“You had a client who wanted to see Cat’s Paw, too?”
“No,” she said. “Well, I don’t know, he didn’t say what he was doing specifically. He was a land developer and I got the feeling he was looking to buy something out here. You, too?”
He spent a long moment zipping up his bag. “No.”
She waited for more. Nothing came. “You always a little mysterious?” she asked.
He leaned back, looking casual and at ease, but again, there was nothing casual about his sharp gaze as he took in the landscape around them with a care that was anything but sightseeing. “What is it you want to know?” he asked.
“I’m not sure exactly.” She looked at him again. “I just feel like I’m missing something about you.”
“We’re strangers,” he said. “There’s a lot you’re missing about me. No one’s an open book.”
She tried to read into that but couldn’t. He was a stone when he wanted to be. Which brought some unhappy memories to the surface. “Maybe you’re an ax murderer looking for a place to bury the bodies.”
His sharp and definitely not-happy gaze met hers. Mr. Mysterious was insulted. “Do you really think your brother would put me in your house if I were an ax murderer?” he asked.
“No.” One thing for certain—Wyatt trusted this guy implicitly or he wouldn’t be in her house. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was a little rude.”
“You could just trust I’m a good guy.”
Nope. Been there, done that, still had the scorch marks on her heart, thank you very much. But she could at least be nice. “I’m not all that good at trust,” she admitted.
“I’ve noticed.”
She needed to not care what he thought of her. She had no idea why she did. She wanted to let it go and not speak again, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “You’re looking for something.”
“Aren’t we all?”
Okay, that was it. She would ask him another question never.
“Let’s make one more pass,” he said.
She eyed the time. “I can’t. I’ve got other prior commitments today.”
He didn’t react to that, not outwardly, anyway. He was consistent on that but inconsistent everywhere else; focused and intense one minute, grinning and flirty the next. Zoe didn’t trust inconsistent. It equated to dishonesty for her.
When they arrived back in Sunshine and landed, she went about her postflight checklist. After finishing the tie-down, she turned and nearly plowed right into Parker. “Oh,” she said in surprise. “Sorry.” Normally clients exited the plane right away and never looked back, either not paying attention or not caring that her job wasn’t over.
But Parker hadn’t gone anywhere; he stood there in his sexy mirrored sunglasses looking cool, calm, and utterly badass.
“What can I do to help you?” he asked.
“Nothing. I’ve got this.”
He raised a brow.
“Really. I’m good.”