“Wayne County? What kind of place? A house? A street?”
I fold my arms, annoyed at the interrogation and ashamed of my earlier loss of composure. “A building, I think. But I don’t know what kind. Maybe their home, I’m not sure.”
“What about lunch? Did you notice any unusual behavior among the wives?”
“No. None. Everyone was pleasant and no one breathed a word about the negotiations.”
His gaze softens, as if his mind is someplace else. “Okay, thanks,” he says eventually.
When he doesn’t say anything more, I go to the bathroom to wash and change.
The first thing I see when I emerge back into the main suite is August dressed in running shorts and a tee. My gaze drops to his thighs and I gulp. They’re thick, tan and muscular. It’s obvious he works out religiously.
He’s striding toward the door.
“Are you heading out?” I ask, my chest hollowing.
I can’t escape this feeling that I’ve done something wrong. Maybe he could tell I wasn’t acting when I kissed him back earlier, and I’m compromising our agreement.
Maybe he’s regretting bringing me here because now he has to suffer through five more days of awkwardness. A blush seeps into my skin. I can’t believe I was so brazen. There has to be a balance between dialing up the act and throwing myself into it headfirst.
He turns to speak over his shoulder but his lashes don’t lift. “I’m going for a run,” he says. “Don’t wait up for me.”
Then he opens the door and leaves.
I’m still standing in the center of the room five minutes after the door has closed.
I’m confused—by my own feelings and by him. And now that I’m alone in our suite, I’m beginning to wonder why I came here and if it really was the right thing to do.
Part of me thinks it was reckless and silly. August is a complete stranger and this place is in the middle of nowhere. He could easily murder me and dispose of my body in the vast forest, never to be found. A tremor starts up at the base of my spine but a voice in the back of head puts it on pause. I might not know August King very well, but I know with a certainty I can’t explain, he wouldn’t hurt me.
I sit on the bed and take my phone out of my purse. There are three missed calls from Mallorie. Shit, I forgot to check in.
I quickly drop her a text to let her know I’m fine and about to go to sleep, then I dial my mom.
After many rings, during which she’s probably rolling her eyes and debating whether or not she can be bothered to talk right now, she answers.
“Hey, Mom.” My bright voice is a sure sign I’m overcompensatingalready.
“You’re alive, then.”
“I’ve only been gone a day.”
“Two days,” she huffs. “I was about to call the police.”
Funny how she could go weeks without speaking to me when I was back in California, and now she’s got Paige under her roof, she can’t go two days.
“Is Paige there?”
“She’s sulking.”
I chew away a grin. Of course she is.
“I am not sulking,” Paige’s voice cuts in. “I’m resting my face.”
“That face has been resting for a week,” Mom says.
“Mom, can you put her on?”
