Oscar faltered. “The, uh, inspector was still checked in …”
Quietly, she slipped into the guest bathroom but didn’t turn on the light, afraid it’d be noticed, too. She met her reflection in the mirror. “You fool,” she hissed. Things seemed to be changing between her and Stone, for the good. She’d dared to hope that maybe … But … “You ruined it. Like everything else.”
Yet the confusion in the dead of night had given way to more of the same panic that sent her flying into Stone’s arms … She’d just wanted him to hold her again. Somehow, there, with his arms around her, threats fell away. The world seemed like it wasn’t out to destroy her—or at least, that it couldn’t get to her. Because of him. It was stupid—she’d told herself that even as she sat on the edge of the mattress as he slept.
She was wanton, wasn’t she? Was there no hope for her? To be happy? To be … normal.
What does that even look like?
“Brighton.”
Startled, she glanced in the mirror to the door behind her where his voice had come from.
“Let’s talk.”
He’s going to make you leave. Never wanted you here anyway. Climbing into bed with him … it was the last straw. He was done with her. Angry.
“I’m … not mad.”
Frozen that he’d so thoroughly known her thoughts—as he had so often during their time in Baltimore, she blinked. Why wasn’t he mad?
“I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready.”
It’s a trap. It’s always a trap. Men were nice only to manipulate her into what they wanted.
Somehow, she found herself standing outside the guest room, watching him stir something in a pan on the cooktop. Just like old times.
He looked up and something twisted through his expression. “Eggs? Bacon?” His tone gave no hint at what he wanted to talk about.
What is happening here? Why’s he being so? … nice?
“I know you prefer breakfast sausage, but I’m fresh out.” He wiped his hands on a towel and switched to another pan. “I’ll pick some up later this morning.”
“I’m sorry, what?” What changed him so drastically?
“Long story. I’ll explain over breakfast.”
Over breakfast. They’d met for breakfast many times when they were seeing each other. And here he was, cooking and acting like things were … normal. Gingerly, she slipped onto a stool at his large kitchen island, afraid if she moved too fast or said the wrong thing, this bubble would burst.
“Ground rules.” Stone popped bread into a toaster. “You sleep in the guest room, and I stay in mine. Doors closed. No deviation. Understood?”
“Sleep here?” What was he talking about? “What about my room at the lodge?”
“Change of plans.” He still hadn’t looked her in the eye since she sat down. “Big conference hit today, and all the rooms are occupied. Then, by mistake, Oscar rented your room last night.”
“How does that happen?”
“Another long story not worth going into.”
She glanced to the door, as if she could find answers there. Instead, she spotted her backpack slumped against the wall. “Guess that explains my things at the door.”
“Doubt he didn’t realize it was all you owned. Thought it got left behind on accident and brought it up here to see if I could get them to you.” Stone sipped a mug of coffee, but still hadn’t met her gaze.
He doesn’t want me here. “I’ll … leave. Figure something out. Get a room in town?—”
“Can’t risk you being seen.” He was all business, then grunted. “Look, we’re adults. We can handle this. Also, you said you didn’t want to be locked up, so … what do you say to continuing to tend the café?”
She raised her eyebrows, stunned.
