Local Hero Read Free Page A

Mitch’s face, too. It was kind and strong, and the mouth rarely firmed into a disapproving line. His eyes were pale and dreamy. Mitch’s wide, strong hands knew the right places to scratch. Taz was a very contented dog. He yawned and went back to sleep.
    When the knock came to the door, the dog stirred enough to thump his tail and make a series of low noises in his throat.
    “No, I’m not expecting anyone. You?” Mitch responded. “I’ll go see.” He stepped on peanut shells in his bare feet and swore, but didn’t bother to stoop and pick them up. There was a pile of newspapers to be skirted around and a bag of clothes that hadn’t made it to the laundry. Taz had left one of his bones on the Aubusson. Mitch simply kicked it into a corner before he opened the door.
    “Pizza delivery.”
    A scrawny kid of about eighteen was holding a box that smelled like heaven. Mitch took one long, avaricious sniff. “I didn’t order any.”
    “This 406?”
    “Yeah, but I didn’t order any pizza.” He sniffed again. “Wish I had.”
    “Wallace?”
    “Dempsey.”
    “Shoot.”
    Wallace, Mitch thought as the kid shifted from foot to foot. Wallace was taking over the Henley apartment, 604. He rubbed a hand over his chin and considered. If Wallace was that leggy brunette he’d seen hauling in boxes that morning, it might be worth investigating.
    “I know the Wallaces,” he said, and pulled crumpled bills out of his pocket. “I’ll take it on up to them.”
    “I don’t know. I shouldn’t—”
    “Worry about a thing,” Mitch finished, and added another bill. Pizza and the new neighbor might be just the distraction he needed.
    The boy counted his tip. “Okay, thanks.” For all he knew, the Wallaces wouldn’t be half as generous.
    With the box balanced in his hand, Mitch started out. Then he remembered his keys. He took a moment to search through his worn jeans before he remembered he’d tossed them at the gateleg table when he’d come in the night before. He found them under it, stuck them in one pocket, found the hole in it and stuck them in the other. He hoped the pizza had some pepperoni.
    “That should be the pizza,” Hester announced, but caught Radley before he could dash to the door. “Let me open it. Remember the rules?”
    “Don’t open the door unless you know who it is,” Radley recited, rolling his eyes behind his mother’s back.
    Hester put a hand on the knob but checked the peephole. She frowned a little at the face. She’d have sworn the man was looking straight back at her with amused and very clear blue eyes. His hair was dark and shaggy, as if it hadn’t seen a barber or a comb in a little too long. But the face was fascinating, lean and bony and unshaven.
    “Mom, are you going to open it?”
    “What?” Hester stepped back when she realized she’d been staring at the delivery boy for a good deal longer than necessary.
    “I’m starving,” Radley reminded her.
    “Sorry.” Hester opened the door and discovered the fascinating face went with a long, athletic body. And bare feet.
    “Did you order pizza?”
    “Yes.” But it was snowing outside. What was he doing barefoot?
    “Good.” Before Hester realized his intention, Mitch strolled inside.
    “I’ll take that,” Hester said quickly. “Take this into the kitchen, Radley.” She shielded her son with her body and wondered if she’d need a weapon.
    “Nice place.” Mitch looked casually around at crates and open boxes.
    “I’ll get your money.”
    “It’s on the house.” Mitch smiled at her. Hester wondered if the self-defense course she’d taken two years before would come back to her.
    “Radley, take that into the kitchen while I pay the delivery man.”
    “Neighbor,” Mitch corrected. “I’m in 406—you know, two floors down. The pizza got delivered to my place by mistake.”
    “I see.” But for some reason it didn’t make her any less nervous. “I’m sorry for the trouble.” Hester reached for her