Free Reap & Redeem by Lisa Medley Page B

him feel a little more like his own man rather than one of Deacon and Ruth’s pets. The piece of shit would only be better if it had a motor, and he could drive it away. Like right now for starters.
    Either that or fall into a giant hole somewhere because his thoughts were spiraling out of control. One minute he was ready to take her home and drop her off, and the next he was admiring her ass? Misfiring brain circuits was his only explanation. He had one mission. Hunt and destroy the demons. All the rest of this? Not important.
    Frustrated, he thrust his head into the bathroom doorway. He heaved a sigh of relief. The fluffy monstrosity was hanging on a hook beside the shower. He snatched it up and carried it back to the kitchen like it was on fire.
    He presented it to Olivia.
    “Thank you.” A slow, sweet smile spread across her face.
    “Welcome.” Yep, a one-word miracle, that was him.
    He moved to the fridge and extracted a giant covered pot full of leftover stew. Realizing he had no idea where the bowls were kept, let alone the silverware, he started on the left side and began opening cabinet doors and drawers, searching for his prey.
    Success.
    Inordinately proud of himself, he found a measuring cup and began hoisting great scoopfuls of stew into two bowls. Grabbing them up, he spun in a circle, searching for the microwave.
    Where the heck was the thing?
    He knew the others had used one. He’d heard it humming.
    “Above the stove,” Olivia offered.
    Jerking at the sound of her voice, he nearly sloshed the stew onto the floor as he turned to face her. Completely swallowed up by the robe, she looked like a pink Sno Ball snack cake with the creamy filling exploding out the top.
    Edible.
    A shy smile spread across her face. She was beautiful. The last rays of sunset penetrated through the window behind her, bathing her in a glow that had nothing to do with magic or Reiki energy. The red-orange light from the window created a halo around her white hair. Humor sparkled in her blue eyes, and while he had no idea how or why she’d triggered his color vision, still, he was grateful.
    An angel, that’s what she was.
    He swallowed hard and turned back to the stove. Yep, there was the microwave—right where she’d told him it would be. After shoving the bowls inside, he jabbed at the keypad, slammed the door shut and stood guard, watching the bowls spin around on the carousel.
    When the microwave dinged, he removed the steaming bowls, burning a layer of fingerprints off on his way to the table. He set them down a little harder than he’d intended, brushing his painful fingertips down the side of his fatigue pants.
    He retrieved two spoons from the third drawer he tried, and then sat across from her, pushing a bowl toward her. “Eat.”
    She frowned at him. “You are very bossy.”
    Funny, he’d been thinking the same thing about her only a few moments ago. He spooned in a great gulp of steaming stew.
    “Where are my clothes, Kylen? What happened to my hair? She crossed her arms over her chest, the sleeves of the robe so fluffy it was difficult to take her seriously. “Where are we, and how did we get here? What was in that IV? Were you drugging me?”
    “Eat.”
    “Not until you answer my questions.”
    “You have too many questions.” He took another bite. “What are you, a reporter?”
    She sat up a little straighter in her chair and gave him a surprised look. “Yes. Or at least I was…before I took a leave of absence.”
    Figured.
    “What beat did you cover?”
    “Food…cuisine.”
    He eyed her, suspicious of her story. Wasn’t there a saying about never trusting a skinny cook, or something like that?
    “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t need your pity. I do eat. Just not as much as I used to.”
    He pushed the bowl in front of her, nearly touching her crossed arms as he tapped a finger on the rim. “Eat, and I’ll look for your clothes.”
    Tilting his own bowl toward his mouth, he let the