Even worse, Lock wasn’t startled. A startled Lock meant he could put up a healthy fight. A sedate Lock simply meant he could get his ass…

Oh. Oh.

Well she hadn’t expected that.

Not only was Lock not startled, but he wasn’t frightened either. Nor was he mad. And as Mitch lunged at him, Lock casually reached out and batted the lion down. Gwen couldn’t even call it a vicious mauling. More like a simple sow-swat from a momma bear to her cubs when they were doing something stupid. She doubted Lock put any real strength behind that sow-swat either. But Mitch went down, grunting as he hit the floor hard.

Raging now, and roaring, Mitch got back up and came at Lock again. Again, Lock slapped the big cat down. Even worse, Lock still wasn’t upset. He was laughing. Not mocking laughter, either, which she knew well from when Mitch and her uncles had done it to others. More like entertained chuckles as if he’d found a really great toy.

Again Mitch got up and, again, Lock batted him to the floor, Gwen’s brother going down with a bam!

Lock grinned at Gwen. “He’s fun,” he said, reaching out and cuffing Mitch without even looking at him.

“He just keeps trying to get back up.” Bam! “It’s great.” Bam! “Like ‘The Little Lion Who Could.’” Bam!

Mitch, bruised and perhaps permanently brain damaged, tried to struggle up again, but Lock held him down on the floor by using the same hand he’d slapped Gwen’s brother around with.

“I’ve got to go,” he said to Gwen again, oblivious to the curses and promises of violent retribution being tossed at him from the floor. “But I want you to know I had an amazing time tonight.”

The words were said with such sincerity that Gwen completely forgot about her poor—now special-needs—brother struggling on the floor. She gazed into those big brown eyes that were almost too big for Lock’s human face and too small for his bear one and said, “I had a great time, too.”

“Then I’ll talk to you later?”

“Okay.”

He kissed her again, keeping it short this time, but then he pressed his forehead against hers, his silver-tipped brown hair feeling soft and silky against her skin, tickling her cheeks and chin.

“I’ve got to go,” he whispered.

“You said that. At least three times.”

“I know. I’m saying it again.” He took a deep breath and then moved away from her, but not before brushing his skin against hers. It was an almost feline move, and she barely stopped herself from climbing onto his back and steering him like a horse to her bedroom.

He made it to the front door before he looked back at her. Then his eyes grew wide. “Oh! I almost forgot.” He came back over to her and handed her a card. “These are my numbers, e-mail addresses, business URL, physical address, andmailing address. You know…if you need to get in touch with me.”

Get in touch with him? But he left out his social security number, his date of birth, and his high school GPA. “Thanks.”

“If you need anything you let me know. Okay?”

Melting. She was so melting. “I will. I promise.”

“Okay.” He walked back to the door, looked at her over his shoulder. “Bye, Gwen.”

“Night.” He opened the front door and Gwen said, “Lock?”

He stopped immediately. “Yeah?” Did he have to sound so eager when he was the one making the decision to go? Damn him! “Uh…could you leave him here? He kind of comes with the place.”

Frowning, Lock glanced down. “Oh, jeez!”

Oh, jeez?

“Sorry about that.” He immediately dropped the lion he’d dragged from the couch to the door, back to the couch, and back to the door. “Habit. Usually I bat my prey around until they stop fighting and drag them off to the brush to…well…you know.” He looked down at Mitch. “Sorry about that…uh…”

“Mitch,” she told him.

“Mitch. Right. Sorry about that, Mitch. And nice to meet you.”

Lock lifted his gaze toward hers, but shook his head and walked out, closing the door behind him.

Letting out a breath, Gwen buried her face in the couch cushions. She didn’t know how long she stayed there, pressing her face into the fabric, but she didn’t have any intention of moving. That is, until she couldn’t stand the constant moaning anymore.

“I’m dying. Help me,” her brother whined.

“What?” she demanded, glaring at him over the back of the couch. “What are you whining about now?”

“Hospital. Need hospital.”

Gwen snorted. “You’re not even bleeding.”

“Internal. Bleeding inside. Slowly dying.”

She got up and headed to her bedroom. “Such a drama king!” she yelled over her shoulder. “How does Sissy put up with you?”

CHAPTER 13

With her work gloves on, protective eyewear in place, and a small white mask over her face, Gwen began pulling out the wall she and Blayne had just demolished to get to the pipes behind it. What started out as a simple sewer-line job for the do-it-yourself couple rebuilding their recently purchased fixer-upper had quickly turned into a much larger project that would bring in some nice cash. Gwen loved when that happened.

Of course, they were only tearing down the walls to replace the plumbing. Putting the walls back up would be down to the homeowners, which was fine with Gwen, since she loved tearing down walls but detested the tedium of putting them back up again. Besides, she wasn’t very good at that part.