“Nothing like that. Not that I saw.”
“Then I doubt they’re excavating. It’s not something they do out in the open. If they really believe he’s buried somewhere on your property, they’d be doing things by the book.”
Nadia slowly nods, face clearing of some of its worries. Then it twists with a new strain. “They must think we’re connected outside of this. That’s the next logical explanation.”
It wasn’t where my mind was going but it makes sense. “But why would—”
“The guy at the farmhouse this morning,” she says, chewing on her lip again. “He must have reported me to the police after leaving.”
Another sensible thought. If Josh got her brains, it’s no wonder he’s trying to become the newest mastermind in prison. Then I snort. I’ve met him. There’s no way he’s getting that position except through blunt force trauma and ambition.
Her voice is wistful as she adds, “I thought I did a fantastic job.”
“You did. But you also look exactly like your picture.”
She dissolves into laughter, limbs sprawling akimbo on the floor. “But I wore… a… towel,” she sputters. “Who could see through such a cunning disguise?”
“I like you,” I say, faintly alarmed at hearing the words and realising I didn’t just declare them in my mind. “I enjoy having sex with you. I’d love it if you stayed.”
“I like you, too,” she says, staring at me with that same frown. “When you asked me to say no…?”
After a brief pause, I realise she’s not resuming the sentence. Not without prompting. “Did you hate it?”
She shakes her head, ducking a little as her cheeks turn rosy. “I liked it but you… You don’t…?”
I have no clue what she’s trying to ask. “I don’t what?”
Her eyes briefly meet mine, then cut away to the floor. “You don’t do that for real, ever, do you?” She screws her face up tight, puffing out a quick breath. “You don’t go ahead when a woman really says no?”
Now it’s my turn to feel my face heat with colour. “I’ve never done that before, not for real, not for play. It’s…” I wave my hands trying to pluck inspiration from the air. No wonder people in relationships miscommunicate all the time. This shit’s hard.
You think you’re in a relationship?
I jerk my head to the side, away from that shrill inner voice, as pleasant as a three-year-old gifted their first recorder. “It’s never happened before, not like that. I don’t know what… I’m sorry.” When I meet her eyes, she’s still perplexed, this time at my apology.
“You’re sorry for taking me hostage?”
“I never meant to…” For fucks sake. Who made talking so hard? “When I held my hand over your mouth, I shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve checked you were okay to… you know.”
“Right.” Her face crumples with amusement and I must have said something wrong because there’s no way she’s smiling at me for that. “You’renotsorry for taking me hostage.”
The corny joke catches me off guard and I join her in laughing, the sound bright enough to drive the lingering thunderclouds away. “About as sorry as I am for taking the bullets out of the gun.”
Her smile falters and I feel an ache at its imminent disappearance. Then it grows again. “Since I’m forgiving you for kidnapping me so rudely yesterday morning, IsupposeI can forgive you for removing the bullets from the gun.”
“Oh, you think you can do that, do you?”
She rolls her eyes. “It’ll be tough, but for you? Anything.”
I lift the bottom of my shirt to rub my hand across my abdomen, half the heat there caused from my internal temperature rising. “Anything, huh?”
“Within reason.”
I waggle my finger at her like she’s a naughty child. “Nuh-huh. You can’t impose conditions after the fact.”
“Spoilsport.” She crosses her legs, tugging at the hem of her shirt. “If we’re still in this together…”
“Yes?”
