He shook his head. “You couldn’t have known. Like you said, you hardly know me.”
“But I thought I knew enough to put you in a box. I really am sorry. And I’m sorry you went through all that. I can’t imagine how awful it must have been to lose your parents at such a young age. I can’t even handle losing my brother as an adult.”
Facing me now, Wyatt touched a hand to my arm. “You’re handling it better than you think.”
“Maybe on the outside.”
His eyes held fathomless understanding and compassion. “There’s no timeline for grief. That’s one thing I know for sure.”
I looked up at him, realizing only then how close we stood to one another. An invisible tether bound us together in that moment. He felt it too. I could see it in his eyes. I could sense it in the gentle, reverent way he brushed his thumb across my cheek. As he lowered his hand, he let a lock of my hair slide through his fingers.
I grasped fistfuls of his open jacket, below the lapels. His inky eyes held mine like magnets, and the air around us buzzed with a heady, electric energy. Or maybe the buzzing was inside of me. All I knew was that every breath of space between us was too much.
“Wyatt.”
The whisper had barely left my lips when his mouth was on mine.
The kiss started out soft, gentle. Then one of Wyatt’s hands skimmed down to the small of my back, anchoring there, the warm pressure a flash point for the heat that flared through me. I slid my arms around him and pressed in closer, the taste of him only fueling my need for more.
Wyatt eased up and pulled back, just long enough to tug a yearning gasp from me, just far enough to allow me a glimpse of his heat-hazed eyes. Then we dove back in, and I fell into the dizzying depths of the kiss.
A rough burst of laughter rang out, startling us apart.
Dazed, I took a second to realize that Hoffman had emerged from the warehouse across the street, his phone to his ear.
“Yeah, I know,” he said into the phone. He turned his head our way, his gaze skipping past us before snapping back to home in on me.
“Oh, shit,” I said.
So much for going unnoticed.
Chapter
Forty-Eight
Hoffman lowered his phone, then put it back to his ear. “I’ve got to go,” he said before ending the call.
He strode across the street.
I took a step back and bumped into the brick wall behind me.
“It’ll be fine,” Wyatt said, quietly enough so only I would hear.
I shot him a look of incredulity before facing my ex.
“Did you follow me here?” Hoffman demanded, his muddy brown eyes sparking with fury.
“Yes.” I didn’t see any point in lying. What else would I be doing there?
Hoffman took in the sight of Wyatt standing next to me. “You and your detective,” he said with a heavy dose of disdain. “You’re never going to prove that I stole anything from you.”
“Maybe not,” I conceded with a fake sweet smile, “but I’m betting we can prove that you murdered Freddie Hanover.”
“You’re the one who sicced the cops on me?” Hoffman shook his head with disgust. “I should’ve known.” He stepped right up into my personal space, trying to intimidate me. “You really think you’ll get away with this?”
Wyatt put a hand to Hoffman’s chest, exerting just enough pressure to send him back a step.
My ex glared at him. “Get your hands off me.”
