“Pants,” I said eventually,taking a stride toward the bedroom. “Would you mind, uh…”
“Turning around?” Grayraised an eyebrow.
“I was gonna say sittingwith me,” I mumbled, feeling stupid now for allowing myself this tiny moment ofweakness.
“Oh, right. Sure,” Grayagreed readily, which did at least take the sting out of his initial response.He was just trying to give me space if I needed it. Probably.
Who knew what was going onin that gorgeous head of his?
“Thanks,” I murmured as Islipped past him, feeling him follow me into the bedroom as I tried to pretendto care a lot about which pair of pants to put on.
I couldn’t quite look himin the eye, but I was glad he was there all the same.
EIGHT
GRAY
I DEFINITELY WASN'T looking at Miles while hegot dressed.
Except for the part where Iwas.
In my head, I couldalmostjustify it as looking for signs of shock. After all, he was bound to be alittle rattled by a stranger breaking into his house, right? I got theimpression that he was, but I wasn’t sure what to do about it.
Fox would have made tea. Docwould have gotten a blanket. Logan would have broken out the chocolate stash healways managed to keep with him.
I was used to just keepingout of their way while they did the soothing. I’d never been good at it.
But right now, Iwantedto be. Miles needed me to be.
And I really liked to beneeded.
While I wasn’t looking atMiles, I happened to notice a long scar where his arm met his shoulder.Surgical, since it was too straight and neat to be anything else, with a clearlyman-made angle to it. No tearing, just a clean cut.
I had one a little like itlooping around my side, although his looked like it’d been done in less of ahurry.
Probably in somethingotherthan a field hospital.
Broken arm, maybe? I didn’t have a scarfrom mine, but if he’d done it near his shoulder, he was probably half-titaniumthere.
I wished now that I’d gotten thechance to explore his body on Saturday. I’dwantedto.
There was something aboutMiles that spoke to me. I didn’t normally want to gather hookups into my arms andstroke their hair after, but I’d been able to picture it with Miles. Hell, I’deven fantasized about having made this tragic, fleeting connection I’d feltbetween us. Ships passing in the night, two lost souls finding each other for afew shining moments before their lives tore them apart, never to see each otheragain.
Except now I was sitting onhisactual bed, subtly testing the mattress, and trying not to getbusted staring.
When he finally threw ashirt over his shoulders, I took the opportunity to make that phone call.Sacramento PD knew me by now, even though I’d only been in business sixmonths.
I might not have had as muchclout as an Emerson, but they’d know if a report was coming from me, it wasserious. At least, I hoped they’d treat it that way.
Once I got off the phone,Miles was standing in front of me, looking a little lost.
That urge to hug him surgedforward all over again.
“I need coffee,” he said,suddenly turning away and heading out into the living room.
I followed him, watching himpick his way through the mess the place was in and tracing his path so I wouldn’t disturbanything that hadn’t already been disturbed.
Not, I knew, that itmattered. The place was a mess, and that might have served as evidence of abreak-in, but assuming whoever did it had the basic level of intelligencerequired to wear gloves… none of it would make any difference.
