“If you’re ready to leave, I’ll walk you out.”
“Okay. Let me grab my purse while you take out the garbage.”
Cool night air swept across Sean’s face when he stepped out behind the building and strode toward the dumpster. A steady breeze rustled through the nearby live oaks and carried the faint briny scent of the sound through town. For a few peaceful minutes, it almost felt like life had returned to normal.
Almost.
Later that night, Sean stretched out across the bed in the beach house’s primary bedroom, wide awake despite the exhaustion dragging at him. Crime scene photos and copied reports covered the comforter beside him. He’d brought the files home, hoping to study the details again and maybe start building a profile of the UNSUB, but his concentration kept drifting.
His attention kept circling back to Grace instead of the case—to her smile, the excitement in her eyes when she talked about opening her business, and the way the whole studio had felt warmer with her in it.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and stared at the ceiling.
What would she say if he asked her out?
Maybe the bigger question was what Bonnie would say. The whole thing could turn awkward fast. Grace might still think of him as some older-brother figure from her childhood, and asking her out could carry a serious ick factor for her.
The thought bothered him more than it should have.
A long sigh left Sean as he stared up at the ceiling. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept with a woman, and the fact that he had to think about it probably meant it had been too long.
Maybe that explained why Grace suddenly occupied so much space in his head.
Most of his relationships never lasted beyond a few weeks. A little attraction, a little fun, then both people moved on without hurt feelings. That arrangement had always suited him fine.
But Grace didn’t fit into that category.
She wasn’t casual. Wasn’t temporary. Everything about her—from the excitement she showed over her business to the warmth in her smile—pointed toward something deeper. The kind of woman a man builds a life with.
Sean had never been good at that.
The longest relationship he’d managed in the last five years had barely lasted two months before the woman got tired of competing with his career. Most women didn’t enjoy canceled dinners, interrupted dates, or middle-of-the-night phone calls that dragged him off to crime scenes.
Another sigh filled the quiet bedroom as he forced his attention back to the reports scattered across the comforter. Outside, wind rattled the windows while the old place creaked around him.
About an hour later, exhaustion finally won. He drifted off, hoping sleep would bring dreams of Grace instead of another dead woman staring up at him.
Grace tossed onto her stomach with a frustrated groan and punched her pillow into shape for what felt like the hundredth time. Sleep refused to come.
Moonlight spilled through the blinds in pale silver stripes across the bedroom, illuminating stacks of moving boxes lined against the walls. The condo still didn’t feel like home yet. It felt temporary. Half-finished. Like she was camping inside someone else’s life.
Her first few nights back in North Carolina had been spent at Bonnie’s house before she finally found this place after rejecting three other condos a realtor showed her. Because of the business loan hanging over her head, buying a home right now wasn’t realistic, so renting had been the smarter choice. At least the owners had agreed to include a rent-to-own option in the lease if they ever decided to sell.
Hidden Cove Condominiums sat in the small town of Dunlap, about twenty minutes from Whisper. The five-year-old complex surrounded a large man-made lake with landscaped walking paths, a small playground, and a private pool for residents. The moment Grace had toured the property, she knew she wanted to live there. It was quiet, comfortable, and seemed safe.
The movers had delivered her furniture and boxes two days after she signed the lease and placed the larger pieces where she wanted them, but beyond that, the condo remained mostly untouched. Boxes were still crowded in every room. Bonnie had helped unpack kitchen supplies, bathroom essentials, and enough clothes to survive the first week or two, but Grace had pushed everything else aside until the clinic opened. Pro-Care came first. Everything else could wait.
Unfortunately, her brain refused to stop reminding her how much still needed to be done before opening day.
With another irritated sigh, she rolled onto her side, then onto her back, before finally giving up. Throwing the sheets aside, she climbed out of bed and padded toward the kitchen in sleep shorts and an oversized T-shirt.
The condo was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak from the building settling for the night. She grabbed a container of milk, poured some into a saucepan, and placed it on the stove.
As the burner warmed, so did thoughts she really should not have been entertaining.
Sean Malone.
The memory of him sitting on the floor beside her in the empty clinic drifted through her head with dangerous ease. The rough edge of his deep voice. The way his tired eyes softened when she talked about the business. The gentle brush of his fingers through her hair.
