Sweet Mercy - Lynn Hagen Page 0,8

opened his mouth and inserted his foot. Mercy could just imagine what Ford thought of him in that moment.

“You know what? Never mind. It was a dumb idea.” Mercy started toward the door.

“Wait.” Ford walked over to him and rested a foot on the bottom step, his forearm on the wooden railing. “I wouldn’t mind company. But I go a mile one way. Can you keep up with that?”

A mile? Christ. Mercy wasn’t sure he could make it down the driveway without collapsing, but he didn’t want to seem like a wuss now that he’d invited himself along. “Um, sure.”

Ford gave a low, soft chuckle. “I’ll take it easy on you. We can do half a mile.”

That still sounded too damn far, but Mercy walked down the steps anyway. “Afterward I’ll make some cinnamon rolls.”

“You’re starting to spoil me.” Ford winked, turned, and started to jog. Mercy hurried to catch up.

He was out of breath by the time they made it to the road. Crap. He just might have bitten off more than he could chew in an effort to get closer to Ford.

Something he shouldn’t even be doing in the first place.

Chapter Three

“Ow! Ow! Ow!”

“Will you hold still?” Ford was on his knees trying to rub the cramp from Mercy’s leg. His mate hadn’t made it a tenth of a mile before his muscles locked up on him. “When was the last time you ran?”

“Does running around the house to get things done count?”

Ford’s hands faltered as he looked up at Mercy. He wasn’t sure if the guy was joking or being serious. He had to be kidding, right? “You’ve never jogged before?”

“I didn’t think it would be this hard.” Mercy hissed as his leg jerked. “It’s no use,” he whimpered. “Just go on without me. Save yourself.”

Ford rolled his eyes as he continued to rub the tight muscle on Mercy’s calf. “It’s a cramp, not a gunshot wound during an apocalypse.”

“You’re rubbing my leg like you’re trying to get a fire started. That hurts.”

If Ford had known his mate had zero stamina when it came to exercise he would’ve opted to sit on the steps to enjoy Mercy’s cooking instead. “Do you think you can walk back to the house?”

Ford pushed to his feet and wiped at his brow. Already the day was heating up and the sun still hadn’t risen yet. He wasn’t looking forward to working today. Not that he was a stranger to hard work, but he would rather do it indoors.

He also needed to go back to town to find out if any more hellhounds were lingering about. Too bad no other businesses had been hiring. Being stuck on a ranch wasn’t conducive to his investigation.

And Ford had been specifically instructed to blend in. If a hellhound was still in Fever’s Edge and knew why Ford was there, shit could get ugly.

He also didn’t want Vladimir to know he was in town. The vampire would recognize him right away, and Ford wanted to confront the guy on his own terms, not when innocents were around.

You couldn’t get more low profile than a ranch worker, but if another opportunity opened up in town, Ford would take it.

That got him thinking about Mercy’s bakery. If Ford fronted him the start-up money, that would give him an excuse to be there. Of course, Ford would never ask for his mate to pay him back. Helping Mercy to achieve his goal would be payment enough, even if Ford decided not to stick around.

“I think I can walk on it.” Mercy put weight on his leg and winced. “We’ll have to walk slowly.”

This would be the perfect opportunity for them to have a conversation about his bakery. Ford slid his arm around Mercy’s waist. “Just for balance,” he said when Mercy tried to pull away. “We don’t want you falling down and causing any more injuries.”

That was the truth, but Ford also loved holding on to his mate. He loved having Mercy in his arms, even if it was only to help him walk. “I was thinking about your bakery.”

“It’s a silly pipe dream.” Mercy limped along. “How far are we from the house?”

Ford snorted. “Not even six hundred feet. I can see the house from here.”

Mercy slapped Ford on this stomach. “Stop making me sound like a total loser.”

Ford liked the easy banter between them, but he still felt as if Mercy was hiding something, holding back in some way. There was mistrust in his blue eyes, even