She turned to see him alarming the house, the small bag she’d packed strung over his shoulder. A deep frown was nowetched on his brow. It was the same one he’d worn in her house the entire time Jesse had been there.
“Thank you for letting me stay here,” she said quietly.
“You shouldn’t be in your house if someone has a key. Hell, you shouldn’t be alone while you have a stalker.”
Her pulse kicked against her throat. Stalker. The word sounded big and dangerous and uncomfortable, and she wanted it nowhere near her.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “I haven’t done anything to anyone. I don’t have money or influence. I’m only twenty-two. There’s no reason for someone to want me out of this town. And what was their goal tonight? What would they have done if you hadn’t arrived when you did?”
In the blink of an eye, Noah closed the space between them and cupped her cheek. “Hey. There are some sick people in the world, and they need very little motivation to do sick shit like this. It’s about them, not you.”
It had to be abitabout her. And she wanted to know why.
Tears suddenly burned her eyes—tears that shehated. “I feel violated. They have a key to my home. How many times have they used it? I heard creaking the other night while I was sleeping. Was that them too? And the black hairs in my bathroom sink?” A shudder didn’t just course down her back, it rolled through her entire body.
Noah cursed and tugged her into him. “You’re safe with me.”
She believed it. They may not have known each other long, but out of every place she’d been in Amber Ridge, Noah’s arms felt safest.
She leaned into him, letting the tear that trickled down her cheek soak into his shirt. Letting the strength of his arms wrapped around her act like a protective shield.
When she pulled back, he gripped her hips, and for a second, her gaze caught on his lips, memories of their last kiss skitteringthrough her mind. Of the rightness she’d felt in that moment. The safety that had enveloped her, and that she so desperately craved right now.
For a second, Noah’s eyes darkened, desire swirling in their gray depths. Then his jaw clenched and he stepped back. “Come on. I’ll show you where you’re sleeping.”
She followed him down the hall, only to frown when she stepped into a bedroom. There were dog tags on the dresser. A framed photo of Noah with a group of guys beside the bed. Even a shirt slung over a chair.
This wasn’t a spare room. This room was lived in.
She turned to Noah. “This is your room.”
“The spare’s filled with boxes.”
“I’m not taking your room.” Not just his room. His bed. His space. She’d be sleeping between the same sheets he slept between every night. No way. That felt far too intimate.
“I’ll sleep on the couch.” He said it like it was already a done deal.
“No,I’llsleep on the couch.”
He laughed. “If you think I’d let you sleep on the couch, you don’t know me very well.”
“Why not? I’m smaller than you. It would be more comfortable for me.”
“No.”
She frowned. Just no? “Noah—”
“I was raised a gentleman, and there is no way in hell I would let my guest sleep on the couch when I have a perfectly good bed for her.”
She opened her mouth to argue more, but he got in first.
“It’s also a safety thing. I need to be closest to the door.” He lowered her bag to the bed. “Hungry?”
She sighed. “No.” For once, she didn’t even think she could stomach chocolate. Apparently, the knowledge that someonehad been in her house while she’d showered completely turned her off food. “I might just take another shower and sleep. Are you sure—”
“You’re taking the bed.”
Dammit.
