“You’re a good guy, Grim,” I mutter under my breath.
“I’m not.”
“Stop being so modest.” I push off the doorframe, suddenly needing to put some distance between us. “I should go help Falkor with lunch. I would appreciate it if you could put the duffel on my bed.”
He grunts, reminding me of his old self.
As I’m leaving, I pause in the doorway, looking back at him one more time.
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed now, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed. He looks tired.
I want nothing more than to go to him. To wrap my arms around him and tell him it’s going to be okay. That we’ll figure this out together.
Instead, I turn and walk down the hallway toward the kitchen.
I need to be really careful. I could fall for a guy like Grim. It would be so easy. And that almost terrifies me more than being hunted.
Grim has made it clear where we stand. Clear that we can’t be together.
I need to keep my distance from him as much as possible, which is going to be difficult, considering we’re stuck in this house together.
31
Wren
I stand on my tiptoes, stretching to reach the top of the kitchen cabinet with my damp cloth. Dust comes away in thick clumps, making me wrinkle my nose.
Although Falkor has done a good job keeping the general areas of his home clean, it’s spring-cleaning jobs like this that he has not been able to get to, and I can understand why. An elderly male should not be climbing up on chairs and ladders.
Even shifters age, and with it, their ability to heal so quickly slows down, too. This is a really big home for one person. Once all of this is over, I think Grim should chat to him about moving into something smaller. Or I could have that talk. It might even be time for him to look at an assisted living facility. He wouldn’t have to be so lonely, since there would be plenty of folks like him.
“There,” I say to myself, wiping the last corner clean.
I’ve been at this for hours now. Started in the guest bathroom, then I moved to the kitchen, and I’m planning to tackle the living room next. Anything to keep busy. Anything to keep my mind off everything. It’s also a way to repay Falkor for his kindness.
He’s such a sweetie.
I hear the familiar sound of a drill from somewhere down the hallway, and my stomach does that stupid flip thing it’s been doing whenever I think about Grim. I force myself to focus on the cabinet, moving to the next section.
I dip my cloth in the bucket of soapy water at my feet and wring it out, watching the dirty water drip back in. The repetitive motion is soothing, somehow.
The drilling stops, replaced by the sound of hammering. Steady, rhythmic thuds that echo through the house.
I close my eyes for a second, trying not to picture Grim wielding that hammer. Trying not to remember how those same hands felt on my body last night.
I shake my head hard and attack the cabinet with renewed vigor. This is exactly why I need to stay away from him. I can’t think straight when he’s around. Can’t focus on what’s important.
Which is staying alive and clearing our names. More importantly, we need to save Sally.
I move to the next cabinet, dunking my cloth again.
The hammering continues, punctuated by the occasional grunt of effort. My traitorous mind immediately conjures up another time I’ve heard him make similar sounds.
“Nope,” I say out loud, scrubbing harder at a particularly stubborn spot of grime. “Not going there.”
I hear footsteps in the hallway and freeze, my heart suddenly racing. But they move past the kitchen, heading toward the front of the house. Not coming in here.
Good.
