“I’d much rather entertain you, but there might have been a break in my case. My episode onUnexplained Casesaired today, and there has already been a slew of tips coming in. Not sure they will amount to anything, but a few are definitely worth running down.”
“Wow, that’s good.” I don’t have to fake my reaction. It gives me hope that when Hayzel’s episode airs, we will have the same luck with tips.
“It could be.” He finally rises from the couch.
I plaster a passable smile on my lips. “Good luck hunting.”
“More like reading and sorting, but thank you. Let me know if you need anything, and the bed is all yours when you’re ready.” That makes me glance up at him in question. Is he not going to sleep in the bed with me. I assumed after earlier, the issue of who would sleep in the bed was resolved.
“I can take the couch. I’m not putting you out of your bed.” My voice is soft and unsure.
“I just meant until I joined you in it unless…” He leaves the question hanging, as if he knows something is off.
I look away, embarrassed that I still want to sleep next to him after finding out he didn’t shutdown Chloe. “Sounds like a plan.”
“I can hang out for a while if you want?”
“Stop worrying about me and go catch a killer.” I motion for him to go, then I grab the TV remote. Boone lingers for a few heartbeats more before finally pivoting to head toward the hall. I see him take another long glance at me before he shuts himself into his office, but I pretend not to notice.
I sag against the couch cushions, knowing it’s going to be a long ass night and silently dreading him realizing I saw the message.
CHAPTER 23
Harlyn
Iblink awake slowly, well rested and without any question of where I am. I’m in Boone’s bed.
I turn my head to the side and see that I’m alone. Next, I peer down the hall, squinting to see the door to the bathroom is open, but the one to the living room is closed. While silently stretching, I replay the events of last night.
I pretended to be asleep on the couch when Boone eventually left his office well after midnight in hopes that he would just leave me to sleepon the couch, but he didn’t. He roused me sweetly with a kiss on my forehead and soft whispers to wake up and come to bed. The plan was to deny him, but I didn’t even try. I allowed him to pull me up from the couch and tow me to the bedroom while I shuffled behind him.
I about lost it when he dropped my hand long enough to pull back the covers and tug his shirt over my head until I was again naked in front of him. While his hands brushed along my curves in a caress, they didn’t linger. I climbed into his sheets withouta word of protest then promptly fell asleep in his arms seconds after my head hit the pillow and he wrapped himself around me.
I feel like I let myself get played—no, I feel like I allowed myself to get lulled last night because I was fully aware of the situation, and I still wanted to be here and not just because I’m being stalked by a killer.
With the morning light comes a tinge of clarity and a whole lot of avoidance. At some point I started to wonder if I had the right to be upset. Boone and I never talked about boundaries or even what we were to one another. I just assumed we were on the same page, but that’s not fair of me, is it?
I shove the question away, because I don’t want to know the real answer. I want to tell myself what I want to hear and what will make ignoring the text from the other woman acceptable.
A noise from the other side of the apartment draws my attention. Boone is out there. The desire to avoid him is gone. It’s been replaced with the need to see him, to prove that he’s here with me and everything I hope could come of this hasn’t disappeared.
I sit up slowly with the sheet pressed to my chest and look around for the clock. It’s a little before seven. Does this man not require sleep or what? He just went to bed what feels like a few hours ago, and who knows how long he’s been awake?
I make my way to the bathroom and find a blue and white toothbrush still in the wrapper sitting on the counter. I certainly could have used this yesterday, but better late than never. Assuming it’s mine, I brush my teeth then tuck it partially back into the plastic. It seems a little presumptuous to place it in the holder next to his.
The shirt I put on yesterday is still on the floor next to the bed, so I shake it out and slip it back on. It’s long enough to hide the fact that I don’t have any panties, but I’m going to need someclothes today. Walking around like this, even in his house, is a bit much.
I wrangle my hair into a bun, utilizing the frizzy texture to hold the style by just tucking it around tightly. The list of things I need is growing by the second, but having clean teeth makes it feel a lot more manageable.
Just as I’m about to open the door, I hear Boone’s low voice say, “Later today.” Assuming he’s on the phone, I pull open the door and watch two heads turn in my direction. The gasp that leaves my lips can barely be heard over the slamming door, but I still use both hands to cover my mouth.
Unfamiliar muttering I can’t quite make out, yet I somehow know is tinged with amusement, filters through the door.
“Shut up, Chauncey.” I have no problem distinguishing Boone’s muffled words. I step to the right of the door, my hands still over my mouth, when there is a short knock followed by it opening and Boone poking his head in. “Good morning, sweetheart.” He grins while his eyes dance with what I can only assume is mirth.
“Good morning, sweetheart?” I hiss back in an outraged whisper.
His eyes travel from my face down to my bare feet, then slowly back up again. It makes my body tingle in places I have no right tingling in, considering I might still be mad at him, and he has the nerve to have company.
