She curled her fingers into her thighs, peering through the windshield at Gabe. He kept the weapon close as he moved in unhurried steps to the front of the house. After a brief scan of the area, he vanished around the corner.
She envisioned his progress through the side yard where roses grew, supported by a trellis, to the back yard where she had spent a week last summer laying stones on a humble patio. She held her breath, waiting, waiting, until Gabe finally appeared around the corner of the garage.
His form was shadowed but distinct. He crossed the short distance to the truck and stopped at her door. She opened it.
“All clear.” He studied her face. “You okay?”
She let out a small puff of air and nodded.
“Come on.” He started to reach into the truck for her, then pulled his hand back. He stepped aside to allow her to slip out instead.
Together, they walked up the short sidewalk to the front door. She unlocked it, the skin on her neck prickling when she pushed it open.
This time Gabe touched her forearm, fingers warm and rough. He guided her behind him and entered first. He didn’t let her go, and she was glad of it. She crowded close to him, calmed by his masculine scent of pine and another note that was just Gabe.
For a beat, they stood in her entryway. The light from the front porch illuminated the table where she dropped her bag and keys every day. The closet where her coats and shoes lived.
He slipped his hand down her forearm to clasp her fingers. She clung to the connection.
Reaching out, he flipped on the light. She held her breath, then realized nothing looked out of place. Nothing was trashed.
They moved into the living room. It smelled of the lavender spray she used when she cleaned, not intruders or fear.
Gabe gave her hand a squeeze before releasing it. He did a quick sweep of the house, moving to the kitchen, the laundry area at the back, then his footsteps echoed in the hall to her bedroom, the guest room and the bathroom.
She stood rooted to the living room rug like the thick fibers in shades of blue could tether her to the world that felt so topsy-turvy. Her ears thudded with her pulse and the strain of listening for anything that might mean trouble.
A minute later, Gabe returned, broad shoulders easing a notch. “House is clear. Whoever was picked up on cam never entered.”
“The windows are all locked?”
He nodded. “I checked each one. I see you have alarms on them.”
“Honor’s ex…Sully…he tried to break in.”
“Where is he now?”
“Prison.”
His gaze roamed over her face. “You’re not staying here tonight.”
A shiver seized her. “I think you’re right. It might be better to stay with Honor.”
He nodded. “We’ll both sleep better.”
She tripped over that word. “Both?”
“Yeah. How am I supposed to sleep if I’m worrying about you?”
Her stomach gave a small flutter. He was worried about her?
“If you want to pack some things…”
“I brought some boxes of antique books home from the shop the other day. They’re valuable—signed copies and first editions. I don’t want to leave them here if someone breaks in.”
He nodded. “Where are the boxes?”
She waved toward the kitchen. “I park in the garage. I brought them into the kitchen.”
