I sat on my lawn chair and scrolled through the classified ads. After waking up on the floor for a second time in a row, I needed to do something about my sleeping situation. Surely someone had a gently used mattress for sale.

Looking at the house was almost too much to handle, but I remembered Grams always telling me there was only one way to eat an elephant and that was one bite at a time. This house was the equivalent of an elephant or maybe a herd of them.

I followed my index finger down the ads with no luck and then turned to the jobs section. Although I wanted to pursue At Flight Graphics, I’d take any job at this point. Sadly, there wasn’t much open in Fury. The sheriff’s department was interviewing for new officer candidates, but I was pretty certain I didn’t want to enter law. I fell into a fit of giggles imagining myself toting a gun when my phone rang.

Grace’s ringtone was Man Eater by Hall & Oates. It had seemed fitting at the time I got the phone. Hell, it seemed fitting now.

“Barrett Residence,” I said with a deep English tone. “This is her butler speaking.”

Grace laughed, which was my intent. “How’s life on the other side?”

“Still living the dream. I’ve managed to fit all of my furniture in the house. There was a problem with the bed though.”

“Too big for the space?” She knew I was sleeping on a twin blowup air mattress.

I rolled my eyes even though she couldn’t see. Somehow it made talking to her feel like she was right next to me.

“No, it was perfect, but it appears that inflatable beds and nails sticking out of the floor aren’t a compatible mix. How are you?”

“I feel like shit. I’ve been home in bed for the last few days.” I could hear the ice machine plunking chunks into a glass in the background. I had an ice machine too. It was my hands rotating the plastic trays so they would release the big fat cubes.

“Say it isn’t so. No happy hour at Wayfair Lounge?”

“There’s nothing funny about being sick. I’ve been puking up my guts for three days. I wanted to lose ten pounds, but not by eating saltines and drinking mint tea. You’re lucky you got out when you did. The plague is upon us.”

“I told you to get your flu shot. With the amount of men you swap germs with, you’re like a walking host.” I padded barefoot to my window and looked across the street. Mona was sitting on her porch drinking what looked like coffee. I’d have to pop over and say hi later.

“I don’t think it’s the flu, I think it’s something I ate.”

“You mean someone you ate.” I laughed so hard I hit my head on the window.

“You’re awful to me. I don’t even know why I’m friends with you.”

“Because you love me. Besides, I think you’re allergic to not having me around.”

“I think that’s truer than you think it is. I really miss you. Tell me the truth. Is it awful there?” I could hear the concern in her voice, and there was no way I was going to make her worry more on top of being sick.

“Actually, I like it here. It’s different.”

“Any hotties?” Of course that’s what Grace would focus on.

I thought back to the men I’d met so far, and one came to my mind. Dark hair. Blue eyes. A giant of a man. “No not really. There’s a guy named Nate that works at the hardware store. He’s nice enough, but not really my type.” I pulled my cup to my mouth and took a sip of my cold coffee.

“Still holding out for a hawk?”

I choked, and the coffee squirted out my nose. “I met one. Not particularly a nice guy, but his name was Hawk.”

“No freaking way. Oh my God, Ana, it’s providence.”

“All right, Jane Austen. I just told you this guy wasn’t particularly pleasant.”

“Neither was Mr. Darcy when he met Elizabeth Bennet, and do I have to point out that your name starts with A and hers started with an E, both vowels? Her last name was Bennet and yours is Barrett, which is almost the same. This is total kismet.”

“Oh yes,” I said with as much sarcasm as I could fit into two words. “Seriously, it’s all good here. I’m going to start painting today. I’m scouring the want ads for a bed and—”

“Gross, you can’t buy a used bed.”

“Why not?” I left the window and walked into the kitchen to make myself another cup of instant coffee.

“Because other people have slept and done other things on it.” She sounded mortified, her voice lowering to a whisper as if she were in a crowded room and talking about a venereal disease.

I filled my cup with water and stuck it in the ancient microwave that shuddered to life when I pressed start.

“You’ve stayed in a hotel. People have slept on those mattresses and have most definitely done other things. What’s the difference?”

There was a moment of silence on her end. I’d made her think. Knowing Grace, she’d be black lighting the mattresses of the hotels she stayed at from this point forward.

“It’s perception. I expect that when I pay two hundred dollars a night to stay at a higher-end hotel, they take the necessary precautions.”

I placed a heaping spoonful of coffee into my cup and stirred.

“Yep, they change the sheets.” I pulled the creamer out of the refrigerator and splashed a dash into my cup.

“That makes me feel sick to my stomach.”

Just as I was about to respond with something witty, my doorbell rang. Who knew I had a working doorbell? “I’ve got to go. Someone is at the door. It’s probably my blind neighbor.”

“Wait, you have a blind neighbor?”

“I’ll call you soon and explain. Feel better. Love you.” I hung up the phone and raced to the door. It would be nice to chat with Mona. At least she was entertaining.

I swung open the door with a big smile on my face only to find the man called Hawk standing there.

I tried to shut the door, but he leaned in so I couldn’t. The man was built like a brick wall.

“What are you doing here?” I stood in front of him dressed in nothing but flannel shorts and a tank top. His eyes skirted my body, and my nipples pebbled under his gaze. In my rush to cross my arms, I forgot that I carried a cup of hot coffee, and it splashed across my chest. The burn of the liquid was nothing compared to the burn of embarrassment that washed over me when I looked down to see I’d unknowingly entered a wet T-shirt contest. “Wait here,” I snapped, then turned and ran toward the room where my clothes still sat in a box in the corner.

The door closed, and I prayed that he had the decency to leave, but his heavy footsteps crossed the living room floor. Today wasn’t my lucky day.

Once I was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, I faced my unwelcome visitor. He stood in front of the window. Slivers of light broke through the branches of the tree out front and caused prisms of colored light to dance on the walls. One prism created a halo around the man’s head, but I knew better. This man was no angel.

“Now that you’ve damaged the outside of my house, are you back to do a job on the inside?”

He swung around to face me. God, he was beautiful. Dressed in dark jeans and a cotton shirt that strained across his chest, he reminded me of a biker minus his leather cut. I’d always had a thing for the bad boys. Grams had called it a phase. Grace called it bad taste. I called it attraction. “Why are you here, Hawk?”

His eyes narrowed at the use of his name. “My name is Ryker. Ryker Savage. Only those who have intimate ties call me Hawk.” He looked around my house like he was seeing it for the first time. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Ana. Ana Barrett.” I should have offered him my hand to shake, but this man set my nerves on edge. He didn’t scare me as much as intrigue me. And he infuriated me more than that.

“Nice to meet you, Ana.” He walked past me into the kitchen. “Nate tells me you need a handyman.”

I rushed after him. “Yes, but not you.” The man must have had an aneurism while he was yelling at me yesterday. He’d been all about throwing me out then, and now he was ready to fix up my place so I could stay.

He stopped in front of the sink and tightened the faucet to stop the drip. “I’ll work cheap. I’m good with my hands, and I know this house better than anyone.” I didn’t miss the flash of pain that crossed his face when he mentioned the house. He obviously had ties to the people who used to live here, but that didn’t make him qualified to work for me.

He brushed past me and down the hallway. “Where’s your furniture?” He stepped into my bedroom and looked at the puddle of blue plastic on the floor. “That’s your bed?”

I rushed over and picked it up. Once rolled into a ball, I shoved it into the closet. “It was. It experienced a death by nailing.”

Was that a smile that broke his stern expression? His eyes lit up when he smiled. It was like a light behind his irises went on and the blue glowed brighter. “I can probably help with that too.”

I bet he could. After the way he looked at me, I didn’t want to get anywhere near a bed with him. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not really equipped to deal with the whole multiple-personality-disorder thing.”

He looked at me with confusion, and then I saw it dawn on him. “I’ll fix the door. No charge.”

“I’ll take you up on that, but I don’t think we’re a good fit for the rest. I’ll find someone else.”

He turned and walked down the hallway toward the door. When he passed the doorjamb that was marked with ink lines, he stopped, lowered onto his haunches, and skimmed the marred wood with his fingertips.

“Did you know her?”

He bit his lip and nodded his head. “Yes. I killed her.” He sprang up and rushed out.

I stood there, stunned. Surely he didn’t mean he murdered her.