“Didn’t the guy with the stolen identity gift you some fancy bottle of alcohol last month when you solved his case?”
“Uh, well, yeah.”
“Saving it for something special?”
Beyond confused, Sam could only stare at him.“No.Not really.”
“Let’s go up then.”He jerked his chin toward the door.
Up.He wanted to go… up.To her apartment.And drink… a fancy bottle of alcohol.
His version of protecting, she supposed.An excuse to look around,verifythe break-in hadn’t compromised her apartment.Yeah, that was what this had to be.
She could argue, or she could let him, and the weird fight this morning had left her feeling awful, so she bit back any refusals or calling out andlet him.“Sure.Let’s… do that.”She fished her keys out of her purse and unlocked the door.She couldfeelhim behind her—a steady wall of presence.
They stepped in and he locked the door behind them, securing the dead bolt.
Sam had to force herself not to hesitate at the bottom of the stairs.It wasn’t weird that they were going up to her apartment.So why did her legs feel a bit like lead and why was her heart thudding in her chest?
She unlocked the door to her apartment, shoved it open, winced internally.“It’s… a mess,” Sam offered lamely.
“I’ve seen your desk.I could have guessed.”
She stepped inside.Nice and warm.She shrugged out of her coat, hung it on the hook on the wall out of habit.Nate did the same.He hung his coat right on top of hers.It felt like such a weirdly intimate thing, his coaton top of hers.For a moment, she could only stare at them… on top of each other.
And she was really losing it.Lack of sleep.Had to be.She shook her head and crossed to her little kitchenette area.“It’s around here somewhere.Pull up a seat at the bar.”She patted the counter that separated her kitchen from the living room.Then moved around the kitchen, looking through cabinets until she found the bottle.Nate settled himself on a stool on the other side of the counter.
Sam retrieved two glasses, a little more at ease since there was this whole counter between them.“Want to mix it with something or go straight up?”
“I think fancy”—he lifted the bottle, read the label—“scotch is meant to be sipped straight up.”
“Sure, but I want some ice.”She got some for both glasses while Nate opened the bottle.He poured.
Sam lifted her glass, held it out to him.“Well, here’s to you, Mr.Homeowner.”
He clinked his glass to hers.They sipped, eyes locked as they did it.Sam’s heart thumped loudly against her rib cage.But the taste of the alcohol had her wincing.
“I know it’s supposed to be great and all, but that tastes like ass.”
Nate chuckled and Sam moved to her fridge, pulled out a can of pop.Poured half of it into her glass.
“Somewhere some yuppy—maybe Cal—is having a full-body chill that you just put diet pop in that.”
“Good,” Sam replied.She took a sip this time.“So much better.”She pushed the can across to him.“Want?”
“Nah, I’ll pass ondiet.”
And it was almost normal.Sharing a celebratory drink in her kitchen area.Him giving her a hard time about her choice of beverages.Just two friends relaxing after a bad day over some good news.
The normal lasted for all of a second.Because he slid off the stool, and then it was just a reminder of how damntallhe was, or how short she was.For a second, she thought maybe he was going to skirt the counter to be on her side of it.
Why that sent twin flutters of panic and something she wasnotgoing to acknowledge right now, she wasn’t going to figure out.She stood perfectly still.
But he didn’t cross the invisible line she’d created.He meandered over to the big window that looked down over the street below.He no doubt noted the pile of papers on her coffee table, the discarded stack of books—most she’d started and never finished, including one of Jill Harrington’s—on the end table next to the couch.Sweatshirts and blankets strewn about every piece of furniture.
She never had people up here, so she never worried about if it was tidy or not.Not that it mattered.As Nate had said, he’d seen her desk.He knew she was a slob.And who cared?It wasn’thisapartment.
He was just a shadow over there, standing looking through the window, so tall he nearly took up the entire length of it.
