They sure as hell weren’t slipping into her bedroom anytime soon. Mac and Jethro had nailed planks of plywood over the French doors until the new doors could arrive within the next few days.
“Let’s just make certain,” he murmured as Jethro moved around them and they began a careful, quiet search of the house.
Keiley just shook her head at them, though she followed along quietly until they were back in the kitchen.
“I have to go take care of the stock,” Mac said as he gathered clean clothes from the washroom and headed for the shower attached to the washroom. “I won’t be gone long. Keep her in line, Jethro.”
Keiley turned carefully to Jethro, lifting her brow mockingly.
“I’ll do my best.” Amusement laced his voice, but little of it reached his eyes.
Dragging out a cooking pot, Keiley set it on the stove before moving to the refrigerator and pulling out the small roast she had placed in the fridge to defrost the afternoon before and vegetables free of the crisper drawer.
As Mac showered, Keiley cut the roast into chunks before tossing them in the pot, covering them with water, and setting them back on the burner.
That taken care of, she set about cutting and chopping the vegetables for the vegetable soup she had planned to fix.
“You’re a good cook,” Jethro suddenly announced from behind her, causing her to glance quickly over her shoulder.
He was staring at her broodingly, much the way Mac looked when he was debating a problem.
“Thanks.”
“Did your mother teach you how to cook?”
Keiley paused in preparing the vegetables, staring down at the celery she was destringing before a sad smile tugged at her lips.
“Mom was an excellent cook.”
She had been. The perfect homemaker, a good wife and mother until her life had gone to hell.
“You look like her,” he stated then.
Keiley froze before turning to face him slowly.
“I ran a check on you when I saw how fast Mac was falling in love with you.” There was no apology in his expression, just that brooding, questioning gaze.
“Great,” she muttered. “Thanks for letting me know.” It was information she could have done without.
“You rose above their mistakes.” He leaned back against the wall lazily, though his expression didn’t change. “It must have been hard, though.”
“What must have been hard? Not embezzling when I had the chance? Staying away from the liquor when things got hard? Sorry, Jethro, but it was no chore at all.” She sliced the celery with brutal strokes. “It was actually pretty damned easy.”
“You were eighteen when your mother committed suicide. Your father died of a heart attack a year later, in prison. From what I learned, the community you lived in pretty much ostracized you.”
Yes. They had. They had talked and gossiped and made her life hell by turning their backs on her and whispering whenever they saw her.
“I survived.”
“Beautifully,” he said calmly.
“What’s the point behind this, Jethro?” She laid the knife down carefully before turning to him and meeting his gaze directly. “Do you torture your lovers for the hell of it, or is it an added bonus?”
His gaze flared. Brilliant pinpoints of glittering arousal suddenly filled it as his eyes raked over her body.
“Are you my lover?”
Keiley blinked back at him in surprise. There was a darkness in his tone that had her stepping back, a fierce, sudden vein of possessiveness in his voice.