Chapter 15
Zoe stretched, pointing and flexing her toes. She blinked open her eyes and looked at the alarm clock next to her bed. Seven-twenty-nine. It was nice not having to get up at the crack of dawn to help Elba. She loved her, but those hours were brutal.
Flicking the alarm off before it could beep, she stretched one last time and threw the covers back. Weird, she’d only pulled the covers over herself last night without getting under them.
Wow, she’d slept hard. She didn’t even remember climbing into bed. Hell, she barely remembered getting home. All the little things she’d meant to take care of quickly had ended up taking more time than she expected. At least now they were out of the way and she could focus on all the big things she needed to do. First thing would be hiring some employees so when all the books started arriving, she had some help.
She twisted her back to work out a couple of kinks. Ugh. Apparently she’d been so tired all she’d managed to do was take her pants off. Reaching under the back of her shirt, she unhooked her bra and peeled it off through the armholes, then rubbed where the underwire had dug into the soft skin under her breasts.
Not bothering with pants, she went downstairs to fix a cup of coffee before she got in the shower and got ready for the day. Rounding the corner into the living room, she froze.
Someone was on her couch.
The top of a man’s head was just visible on the armrest. With the back of the couch facing her, there was no way to tell who the head belonged to.
Glancing over her shoulder, she judged the distance to the door and noted the bolt was thrown. How many seconds would it take to throw the lock, open the door, and race next door to Tim’s? She took a careful step back, wincing when her heel landed on a loose part of the floor.
“I already heard you upstairs, so you may as well come in.”
“Puta merda!” All the air left her lungs in a whoosh and she realized she’d been holding her breath. Resting her hand on her chest, she felt her heart pounding against her sternum as the adrenaline receded.
“What are you doing in my house?”
Tim stood up from the couch and stalked toward her. Worry returned and she backed away from him until she hit the wall behind her.
He was angry—she could see it in the scowl on his face—but there was something else in his eyes as well.
He stopped a couple of feet away from her. “I’m in your house because when I got home from a call-out last night, your car door was open. Then I saw your front door was wide open and the keys were still in the lock. When I found you passed out on the floor of your living room, I thought you’d been attacked and left for dead.”
Her heart fluttered for completely different reasons than fear. He’d been worried about her. That was why he was so angry.
“Were you drunk?”
Her brows snapped together. “What?”
“Drunk. I didn’t smell any alcohol—had you been drinking?”
“Of course not! I wouldn’t drive if I’d been drinking. I was tired.”
“So tired you didn’t have the energy to close and lock your door? So tired you didn’t wake up when I shook you or carried you upstairs to your bed?”
“Yes. I’m a heavy sleeper—I’ve been known to have complete, lucid conversations with people and not remember them later on—and last night I was exhausted. Between helping Elba out yesterday morning and trying to take care of some things for the store, I’d been going non-stop for more than eighteen hours. I barely remember getting home and going to bed.”
“You didn’t go to bed, I put you in bed.”
She pulled down the front hem of her t-shirt, conscious of the fact that it and her underwear were all she wore. “I’m not wearing any pants.”
Of course he looked, because what man wouldn’t look when a woman pointed out she didn’t have on any pants?
“You insisted on taking them off before you got in bed.”
“And you didn’t see anything?”
He crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels. “I might have caught a glimpse.”
“A glimpse?”
His arms went up in surrender. “Don’t blame me. I had to fight you to keep your shirt on.”
