“Agent Stokes works on the joint task force with Nick,” Georgia explained, stepping aside to let the housekeeping crew by. She lowered her voice and leaned close to my ear. “He offered to help us get rooms on your floor since we’re a little out of our jurisdiction here.”
“Out of your jurisdiction for what?”
Sam returned to collect an armful of bags. “Don’t mind me,” she said at my slack-jawed expression. “I just came along to keep your sister company. I had a few days of leave I needed to burn, and your sister isn’t supposed to be lifting anything with that hand.”
The door to my room flew open behind me. “What kind of nonsense is going on out here? It’s too early for all this ruckus. If you all don’t quiet down, I’ll report you to…” Georgia and I turned around to find my mother gaping at us, her sleep mask pushed up on her forehead, making her hair stand up. She held the door open with one hand and her robe closed with the other. Behind her, Delia and Zach were jumping on my empty, unmade bed. Cartoons played on the TV, Cheerios and toys strewn like a trail of bread crumbs between the open doors of their connected rooms. “Georgia?” my mother said with a gasp. “Why aren’t you at home with your father?”
“Don’t worry. I left Dad a note and took one of the casseroles out of the freezer for him. He’ll probably be on the couch watching football all weekend. He won’t even know I’m gone.”
“What’s all this?” our mother asked, frowning at the piles of luggage.
“I was just asking her the same thing. Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” I begged.
Sam beamed as she extended a hand to my mother. “You must be Susan! It’s wonderful to meet you.”
“And you are?” my mother asked her, casting dubious glances at the bright white letters on Agent Stokes’s jacket.
“Samara Becker. But please, call me Sam. I’m Georgia’s—”
“Friend from work,” my sister rushed to finish for her. Agent Stokes coughed into his hand. My mother’s gaze leaped from his smirk to my sister’s bright red cheeks. Our mother’s eyes widened as they returned to Sam. I was pretty sure she was fitting my sister’s new girlfriend for a wedding dress.
“Oh,” my mother breathed, keeping one foot wedged in the door as she reached eagerly for Sam’s hand. “Oh, Georgina, she’s gorgeous! And so put together.” My mother smoothed her bed-matted hair, then her robe, one hand holding stubbornly to Sam’s as if Sam might disappear if she let go. “Look at me, I’m a mess! I’m so embarrassed.”
“You look lovely,” Sam assured her. “We didn’t mean to sneak up on you like this.”
I glared at my sister. She raised her hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, Finn. We left the station in the middle of the night, and Nick didn’t think we should call and wake you.”
I nearly choked. “Nick’s here?”
Everyone turned as a door opened across the hall. I’m pretty sure I stopped breathing as Nick emerged from the room directly across from Steven’s. His eyes found mine, his pace quickening as he maneuvered past the stacks of luggage to get to me. He paused beside my mother, his leather jacket stretching open to reveal his holster and his badge as he bent to plant a quick kiss on her cheek.
“Hi, Susan. It’s good to see you,” he said in a rush. “Sorry, but I need to steal Finlay for a few minutes. Official police business,” he explained as he reached for my elbow.
“What’s going on?” I asked as he steered me past FCPD duffel bags and laptop totes, into his room.
“Can we have the room, please?” Nick took a stack of linens from the remaining housekeeping staff, ushering them quickly to the hall, leaving the beds unfinished. He closed the door behind them and slid the dead bolt in place.
“Nick, what are you all doing—?”
He took my face in his hands, his mouth hungry on mine as hewalked me backward toward the bed. He smelled like coffee and peppermint. “Jesus, I missed you.”
“It’s only been two days.”
“Way too long.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“Tried to reach you last night.” His five o’clock shadow trailed down my neck, leaving goose bumps in its wake. “Texted you again when we got here.”
His fingers slid under the hem of my sweatshirt and my thoughts scrambled. “I went out for breakfast and forgot my phone.”
He captured my lower lip between his. “Mmm… Pancakes?”
“And bacon.”
A moan rumbled through his chest as his hand dipped into the back pocket of my jeans, drawing me closer. His brow furrowed as he broke our kiss. “Is that sand?”
I put a palm to the front of his Henley, holding him back as I reined in my hormones, which had apparently already slapped on a set of handcuffs and surrendered to him. His cheeks were flushed, the dark waves of his hair mussed, his pupils wide and his eyes a little manic, like he’d been using truck-stop coffee to keep them open all night.
