Now that Dean was back in Hart County, I understood him even less than before.
I sat up against the soft pillows, feeling the layers of cozy blankets pool around my waist. My gaze landed on the framed poster on the wall across from me.
Gardenias.
I mean, really? An art print featuring my favorite flower? Hanging in this bedroom that he never slept in?
What was this man’s deal?
I had no clue if all this meant something or nothing at all. Like the way he kept insisting he cared about me, wouldactuallykillthe people who’d hurt me, and yet he still kept me at a distance.
The man was exasperating.
And I wanted him so, so badly. Wanted to wake up beside him, with his arms wrapping me up instead of these blankets. Wanted his body pressed against me, making me light up and feel alive after we could’ve died yesterday.
But none of that was ever going to happen.
“And that’s enough wallowing for one morning,” I said to the room.
Now, it was time for a little spying. I had to get some benefit out of staying here, right? What else did Dean expect, leaving me on my own down here while he squirreled away upstairs?
I was eager for any small clues to him that I could get. Clearly it was some kind of sickness on my part.
I got out of bed and poked around the rest of the room. Last night, I’d been exhausted and went right to sleep, secure in the knowledge that Dean was close by. But now, I had the time and energy to check things out. And he couldn’t stop me.
I opened up the armoire, finding it nearly empty. Dean wasn’t keeping his clothes in here, which I supposed made sense if this wasn’t his room. In all the time I’d known him, he had tended to live out of his suitcases, even after he’d been living in an apartment for a year. An obvious clue about that nomadic tendency of his, which I had chosen to ignore.
And yet, he’d also apparently bought this house.
Whatever. Trying to understand Dean Reynolds was a fruitless exercise.
On the dresser, he’d left a small stack of clothes. He must’ve put them here last night when I was in the bathroom. I was in my underwear right now, since I hadn’t bothered thinking about pajamas.
I put on a long-sleeved shirt along with a pair of basketball shorts that hung low on my hips. Then fit my sling back over my head and around my left arm. Thank goodness I would be able to ditch it in another couple of weeks, if the doctor agreed I was still making good progress. Hopefully all that rattling around in the truck yesterday when we were fleeing for our lives wouldn’t be an issue.
Probably best not to mention our dramatic getaway to my physical therapist or doctor.
The bedroom was disappointingly devoid of anything else interesting. Dean had created a tasteful yet anonymous guest room despite not expecting any guests. Or having a bed of his own to sleep in.
After a quick visit to the bathroom, where I brushed my teeth and pulled my curls back into a poof, I ventured into the kitchen. The sound of running water whooshed overhead, which must’ve been coming from the bathroom upstairs.
Dean was showering.
I thought of him naked up there, water running over his muscles, that shaggy hair hanging into his face as his hands glided over his body…
Coffee. That was what I needed. A jolt of caffeine to hopefully break through that stream of images of Dean getting all soaped up in the shower.
The kitchen was pretty well stocked, as I’d seen yesterday. The coffeemaker was a standard brand, same one I had at home. Within a few minutes I had it gurgling.
The water was still going upstairs. And I did not need to be thinking about whatelsehe might be doing in the shower.
I headed into the open living space. A wall had been torn down between two rooms here, and everything was still unfinished and mid-construction. Nothing much of interest.
But in a closet, I hit pay dirt.
Two cardboard boxes were stashed here. Finally,something of Dean’s that I could shamelessly poke through like the nosy cop that I was.
The first box held paperwork. Tax-return type stuff, not what I’d been after. Even I wasn’tthatshameless about invading his privacy. I set the box aside.
