Forever Hers by Walters, Ednah (new ebook reader .TXT) 📗

“I was going to shower first.” She checked her watch. “Can you hang in there for half an hour?”

“I can make breakfast. I make really amazing oatmeal.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Really?”

“You’ll love it. Hit the showers. By the time you come out, I’ll have everything ready.”

Shaking her head, she disappeared toward her bedroom. Left on his own, Eddie contemplated the contents of the fridge. He’d watched her cook and she made it seem effortless. He sucked at cooking. Chase had tried to teach him a few times with terrible results.

He was chopping the apples for the oatmeal when the house phone rang. He picked it up. “Yes?”

No one answered. Frowning, he placed the phone down.

It rang again. By the third call, he was pissed. “Listen, you son of a bitch. You want her, you’ll have to go through me first.” He placed the phone down.

Amy had a stalker. In most cases, the only way to deal with one was to catch him in the act and throw his ass in jail. The stalker angle didn’t explain Raelynn’s fear of the police though. Not knowing bugged the hell out of him. Chances that Amy was a fugitive and was being stalked were slim, yet there had to be a connection.

The first call Eddie placed was to the local police. He had put off calling them the last few days because he had been busy trying to figure out Amy and winning over Raelynn. Now he might need their help.

“Sally Paige, please?”

“Who’s callin’?” the woman on the end of the line asked.

“Eddie Fitzgerald.” He put a cup of oatmeal, three cups of water, chopped apples, salt and cinnamon in a pot as he waited. He turned on the stove and stirred the mixture.

“Detective Fitzgerald,” a high-pitched voice said. “It’s wonderful to hear from you. Baron mentioned you’d be in town sometime this weekend.”

Eddie chuckled. “Does that mean you haven’t caught the burglar?”

She laughed. “I wish.”

“Then we need to talk, Ms. Paige.”

“Sally, please. And yes, we need to talk. The lead detective on the case wants to see you too. Do you think you can stop by in the next day or so?”

“Sure. Is four o’clock today okay?”

“That would be wonderful. We’ll be waitin’.”

As soon as he hung up, he placed the second call to a sporting goods store. They needed boxing gloves and guards for practice. Putting the phone down, he searched inside the fridge, found a large container of plain yogurt and added some to the oatmeal. He stirred the mixture, tasted it and grinned. Perfect. He turned off the stove.

Amy walked back into the kitchen as he scooped the meal into two bowls.  As usual, she wore shorts, except the material was soft and the edges frilly as though she’d cut off a pair of sweat pants. The neon green color of her tank top added flecks of green to her brilliant blue eyes. The top hugged her generous chest, drawing attention to it.

Eddie shifted uneasily as blood rushed to his groin. The high kitchen counter came to his rescue, but he had a feeling it was too late. Amy watched him with a naughty gleam in her eyes that said she knew how she affected him. Sometimes, he wondered if she deliberately dressed in the bare minimum to drive him nuts.

She cocked her brow. He gave her the pitcher of orange juice. “Go on outside and stay put,” he ordered. “I’ll bring everything.”

Amy chuckled as though she knew he was deliberately kicking her out. The gentle roll of her hips as she walked away shot his imagination into hyper drive.  He needed to get laid. The problem was every time he thought about kissing or bedding a woman, he saw Amy’s face, her body, not Clarissa’s, his current girlfriend. Eddie chuckled. Clarissa would probably laugh if he ever called her his girlfriend. They hooked up every other weekend and that was it.

When was the last time they’d spoken? Not when he was in Montana, or since he arrived in Idaho. He would call her tonight. Maybe hearing her voice might keep the fantasies about Amy at bay.

He could hope.

Eddie sprinkled brown sugar on top of the oatmeal, placed two spoons and glasses on the tray then carried it outside. The look on Amy’s face when he placed the bowl in front of her could only be described as skeptical.

“Looks are not everything, Amy Kincaid. Taste it.”

She took a spoonful and took her time savoring the taste. “Hmm, not bad.  Yogurt?”

“Gives it the creamy texture,” he said.

“Cinnamon…nutmeg…fresh apples…I’m impressed.”

“Good because it’s my family recipe. Wouldn’t want my father to think I’d failed to reproduce the one thing he’d passed down to me.”

“And your mother?”

Eddie’s hand stilled. “What about her?”

“Any recipes?”

He relaxed and chuckled. “No. She wasn’t around much to contribute to the family cookbook.”

Amy frowned. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. Her loss. I’ve got a question for you. Nothing personal,” he added when she frowned. “How good are you with the Glock?”

She made a face. “So-so. I don’t even like guns.”

“Then why buy it?”

“I didn’t. Lauren loaned it to me. You know, for the break-ins.”

She was determined not to talk about her problem. That was cool. He wasn’t going to push. She would confide in him when she was ready. “Have you thought of a way to defend yourself if the burglars make it inside the house?”

“Point and shoot.”

“Good. Threats don’t scare criminals. Action does. What if you don’t have the gun and they do?”

She grimaced. “Actually, I’m hoping I’d see him coming. I ordered surveillance cameras online a few days ago, which I plan to place near each door. The system is not fancy, but it should record him and give me a heads up, or warn him that he’s being recorded. If he somehow bypasses them, I will shoot.”

Did she realize she’d said “he” and “him” several times? Soon he’d know the name of the bastard stalking her and the hunt would begin.