He bit back the laugh. “What is it, Peaches?”
“Are we going to go back to hating each other tomorrow?”
“I have never hated you, nor will I ever hate you.”
“Okay. But will we be enemy neighbors again?”
“No. Just neighbors who pretend to date while throwing out insults every other minute.”
This time she laughed. “Jeez, we’re complicated.”
“Better than boring.”
“Okay, one more question before I put my head down and really get to work.”
“Shoot.”
“Why do you have a penis sculpture in your living room?”
His mouth widened into a giant fucking smile. Whatever he’d thought she was going to ask, it wasn’t that. “It’s a replica of a sculpture in a park in Des Moines. I went there with my team between missions. I made a joke about it, and my buddy gave it to me as a joke present for my birthday.”
“And now you put it up in your living room.”
“When I look at it, it makes me smile. Not because of what it is, but because I remember how I felt when he gave it to me.”
The smile slipped from her lips, and she frowned. “You’re deeper than I thought.” Then her eyes widened. Because she hadn’t meant to say that out loud?
“Don’t let anyone else know. It’s my best-kept secret.”
She shook her head, but even as they cleaned, she didn’t stop looking his way. And he only knew that because of how often he looked ather.
“You know I’m sleeping on your couch, right?” he asked when they were almost finished.
“No, Becket, you don’t need to do that.”
“I do.”
“No—”
“Sky. Just say thank you.”
Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. She wanted him to sleep on the couch. She didn’t need to say the words out loud for him to know that.
Finally, she dipped her head. “Thank you.”
And that was his small win in an otherwise shitty day. That she trusted him enough to help her feel safe.
CHAPTER15
Sky ran her fingers over her pale blue cotton skirt as she stood in front of her bedroom mirror.
Dinner with Becket’s family. Why did she feel guilty about lying to his mother? She hadn’t felt guilty about trickingherparents. Heck, she hadn’t felt guilty about lying to anyone else either. So why was his mother different?
She swallowed and turned, scanning her bedroom. A bedroom that was now clean and tidy but still felt different from how it had a week ago.
Becket had only slept on her couch the one night—her choice, not his—and man, that first night without him had been hard. Every whisper of sound, every creak and crack in the house, had set her pulse racing. How much sleep had she gotten? Two hours? Three?
Four nights later and she was a little better, but not a lot. She wouldn’t be winning any competitions for how well rested she was, that was for sure.
