thought he was here to hurt you—especially after I found him with his arm around your throat. I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t my fault Joe gave off the “I’m an asshole who wants to kill you” vibe.
“Speaking of the door.” Joe pulled the bag of peas off his face and pointedly ignored me. “If you have any tools around here, I might be able to get that fixed before I head out.”
“You’re welcome to sort through what I have. George’s stuff is in the guesthouse.”
Careful to give me a wide berth, Joe left the room, muttering something about dirty pennies on his way. As soon as he was out of earshot, I whirled on Nan. “What in the world is going on here?” I hissed at the same time she said, “Did you really threaten to pepper spray him?”
I explained what happened yesterday. “He’s the reason I’m back.” I jabbed my thumb over my shoulder. “I thought he was gonna rob you.”
Nan’s lips quirked. “Instead, you show up and find him with me in a headlock.” Laughter shook her shoulders.
“I’m glad you find it funny, because I’m still wondering if I should stop by work for an EKG.” Only half-joking, I put a hand to my heart. “Why is he here, anyway?”
Through the window over the sink, I watched Joe amble toward the guesthouse. He’d ditched yesterday’s leather jacket in favor of a fitted V-neck tee. Ripped, black jeans hugged his trim frame. He ran his hands through his hair, then disappeared from view.
“He’s going to help me fix up the place.”
“Where’d you find him? Some random website online?” I smirked at my joke. Everyone knew not to hire strangers off the internet. My smile died on the vine as Nan nodded her agreement.
“He’s quite the find, isn’t he?” Her eyes sparkled as she rubbed her hands together. “And Delores assures me his tuchus is as ripe as it looks.”
I slow-blinked as that statement landed, opening my mouth to object as Nan strolled into the living room.
“You have time to stay?” she asked over her shoulder. “I made cookies.”
Chapter Five
Joe
Penny Dreadful had a name. And a fucking bell-ringer for a right hook.
Kennedy Reagan Monroe.
Two presidents and a blonde bombshell with a drug problem. Nothing to worry about there. Nope. Nothing to unpack at all. Definitely not a set of parents who beat success and leadership into her from a young age. Surely, those names were just a massive coincidence and gave no insight into why the woman had such a bitchy chip on her shoulder.
Sure. Let’s go with that.
Ignoring my throbbing face, I raked a hand through my hair and stormed into Maxine’s storage unit for her late husband’s things…also known as the guesthouse. Considering the place would be my home for the foreseeable future, the amount of stuff she’d crammed in there had me wondering where my things would go. A healthy coat of dust clung to everything, and the stale air tickled my lungs. I slid open a few windows in search of a deep breath.
The mountain of boxes loomed, daring me to dive into someone else’s past in search of power tools. I peered into a few, pinching the cardboard and pulling back the lid just enough to reveal the contents. Sneaking around the house the day before had barely registered on my creep scale, but digging through George Monroe’s stuff buried the needle. I pushed those thoughts to the side with a handful of his paintings.
Maxine was right. Her husband had been a terrible artist, but my respect for the man surged when I found his tools. Expensive. Well-organized. Clearly used, but cared for. I grabbed what I needed and Jumanji’d my way through the backyard.
The Monroes had made their way to the living room. Kennedy perched on the couch, a travesty Maxine called a cookie in hand. I grinned as she brought it to her mouth and bit down, gnawing her teeth together until a resounding crunch rewarded her efforts. I didn’t know if it was the cookie or a tooth, but my grin widened.
Now we both had mouth injuries to nurse.
Ease up, Channing, I thought to myself then inwardly recoiled in shock.
When had I ever taken it easy on someone until they proved themselves worthy? Obviously, I needed a distraction, so I went to work sizing up the doorway. The repair didn’t look like it’d need much of my time, as long as I didn’t get too distracted. My gaze slipped to the duo in the