On the drive home, somewhere between Princess Pine and Quaking Aspen, Jace realized he’d grown quiet again. Or had he simply stayed that way since their moment at the ice cream shop? It was twilight now, the sky aglow with that mysterious in-between state. Not dark. Not light.
He glanced over to see Amy scrolling a thumb over the lit screen of her phone— a habit that normally didn’t belong to her. She’d probably turned to it because he’d been neglecting her.
Great.How many of her cues had he missed by passing with mere grunts or nods in the quiet spots? Regret flared in his chest. He took one hand off the wheel and rested it palm-up on the leather armrests between them.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a whisper. “My mind drifted to the case a little while ago, and I think I got stuck there.” It was true enough; the case is what had him wanting to slow things down for now.
Amy tucked her phone into her purse, then turned to him, her face as neutral as the night view. “What did you say?” She rested her hand in his, silky smooth, and turned to look out the window.
“Nothing,” he mumbled. Here he was, about to get details on the April Massaby and Linda Graton case, and suddenly Jace was pulling back and reaching for safe ground. The safe ground he used to measure options and calculate risks with a sane, non-infatuated-with-the-woman-he-was-protecting mind.
The irony didn’t escape him: he’d been worried that a woman might never stand by his side for fear that she’d lose him, and now he was looking for the quickest route to abort his romantic pursuit of a woman on dangerous ground herself.
He followed her inside and, while she changed her clothes, stirred a few cups of ice into the container of sun tea resting by the window. Should he really cool things off with Amy? Perhapscould hewas the better question. It all seemed so muddy now. Like there was no wrong or right answer. Just the odd, in-between layer that mimicked the twilight hour and the not-happy not-sad expression on her face.
“I was thinking,” Amy said, but she didn’t finish.
Wearing a simple tee shirt and a pair of shorts, she crossed the kitchen with her arms folded over her chest. “If you move in, we’ll probably have to start…” she dropped her gaze to the rug at her feet, began nudging the fray with the side of her toe.
Just what would she say—that they had to set boundaries? No kissing in the bedrooms? No kissing while lying down? Perhaps she’d received the same lecture he and the twins got as teenagers.
When another beat passed, Jace straightened up and rested back against the counter, elbows supporting him at either side. He hoped it looked casual or laid-back or anything but anxious, which is how he felt in that moment. Heart clanking. Palms starting to sweat.
“I just think,” she started again, “that, if you really need to move in, it might be best if we put things on pause for now.”
Jace worked to keep the surprise off his face.
She circled the island and picked up a glass of iced tea. “Just so we don’t move too quickly,” she added before bringing it to her lips.
What kind of mind-reading powers did she have anyway? It was exactly what he’d been considering. This was his chance to cool things off. Once he had the dirt bags who’d put her in jeopardy behind bars (or six feet under if they forced that route) he and Amy could pick up where they left off.
He pulled in a deep, pensive breath and nodded. “Okay.”
A flash of what could only be called hurt flittered over her face. And then it was gone. “Fine.” She took a step back, a movement that put an extra ten inches between them.
Jace gulped, sensing that she was creating emotional distance from him too, a defense tactic he was all too familiar with. The clanking in his chest sped up, like a spoon whipping furiously about a metal pan with no rhyme or rhythm.Clank, clink clank, clink, clankclankclank.
Amy set her half-empty glass in the sink. “It’s getting late.”
Jace eyed his watch as she moved past him. “Whoa, whoa, it’s barely nine o’clock.”
She stopped walking, but she didn’t turn back to face him.
“What’s going on?” Jace set his glass down and hurried to her side. He reached out, ran the tips of his fingers along her bare arm. Up, then down. Her profile— the dark lashes, delicate slope of her nose, and full, sultry lips nearly masked the redness in her cheeks. And the hint of moisture in her eyes.
Maybe this was a terrible idea, putting things on hold. Butshe’dbeen the one to bring it up.
“What are you thinking in that pretty head of yours, huh?” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
Amy sniffed and shook her head, glancing down for a blink before fixing her gaze on him. “I don’t know how to do this now.”
He knew what she meant, but still he asked, “Do what?” Sure, it was cowardly, but he hoped she could articulate the chaos that was happening inside him too. On one side was a mounting fear that he could lose her due to some mistake or oversight regarding the case. Complicating things—especially in that moment—was the pressing urge to pull Amy into his arms and kiss that frown from her lips.
The clashing emotions wrestled while he waited for her reply. There was more than one way to lose a person. And he didn’t want Amy to cross him off the list of potentials and leave him in the small pile of forgotten lovers who messed up their chance with her.
Amy turned to face him, leaned back against the doorway, and sighed. “You know what I mean,” she said shyly, the pink in her cheeks deepening now.
He stepped toward her once more, dropped his chin, and rested his forehead on her shoulder. She smelled so good. Like vanilla ice cream, only warm and tempting beyond reason. His hands found her hips. “Yeah.” The whispered word got caught in his throat. “I know what you mean. Only thing is, I don’t have an answer.”
