God, she hoped not.
The anxious flutter in her chest eased when he returned, stretched out beside her, and pulled the sheets and comforter over them both. She shifted closer, fitting herself into his side, and he welcomed her without hesitation, drawing her in like it was instinct.
Earlier, she'd promised herself she wouldn't let her emotions outrun her common sense. She wouldn’t read too much into his warm arms and whispered words and the way he held her as if she mattered.
But lying there with him, listening to his breathing even out, it was hard not to wonder. Hard not to hope.
They didn’t need to define anything yet. For now, it was enough to be there—wrapped around each other, breathing in sync.
And Tess told herself she’d take it one step at a time.
Even if part of her already knew she was in trouble.
Chapter Eighteen
The first thing Tess noticed was the light. Even with her eyes closed, she could sense the brightness behind her lids, the soft glow of morning sun filtering through the blinds. For a moment, still caught between sleep and waking, she thought she'd only dreamed it—the feel of his arms around her, the tenderness of his kiss, and the way they'd fallen asleep wrapped together. That it had all been some reckless fantasy she'd imagined.
Then the mattress dipped behind her.
She opened her eyes to find sunlight painting pale stripes across the floor and turned her head just enough to see him.
Brian.
A smile spread across her face. He was real, sitting there in a pair of boxer briefs, his hair still damp from a recent shower. He looked unfairly handsome, his damp hair only adding to the effect. The clean scent of soap lingered around him, drawing her back to everything they'd shared the night before.
What startled her most wasn't just that he was still there, but that his presence didn't feel strange. There was no awkward scramble for distance, no sudden regret filling the air. And when his gaze met hers, she didn't see the familiar signs she dreaded when she hooked up with a man she was interested in, rare as it was. There was no flicker of second thoughts, no urgency to leave. Just quiet contentment.
He leaned down, bracing a hand on the mattress beside her, and kissed her. Gentle but lingering. More a promise than a question. Tess melted into the kiss, savoring the closeness and the unexpected peace that came with it.
Then his stomach growled. Loudly.
She broke away with a startled laugh. “Hungry?”
He smirked and rubbed a hand against his taut abs. “I was just about to ask you the same thing, but my stomach beat me to it.”
He straightened, grabbing his jeans from his duffel bag at the foot of the bed. She didn’t know where it came from, and he must have noticed her confusion. “I always keep spare clothes in my truck. My first homicide scene was particularly messy, and I learned quickly to have extra clothes I could change into.”
“Makes sense.” It did. She didn’t go out into the field often, but every so often, she accompanied Dr. Hanson to a homicide or suspicious death to take notes. The M.E.’s office provided protective field gear for those calls.
“There's a little diner in town,” he said, zipping up his fly. “Nothing fancy, but the food's good. You want to go?”
Tess pulled the sheet higher as she sat up, the cotton cool against her skin. The idea of being out in public together should have made her nervous that they were getting too involved, but instead, she found herself nodding.
“Yeah. I'd like that.”
A smile tugged at his mouth—somewhere between boyish and roguish—as he pulled on his shirt.
Tess lingered in the comfort of the bed for another moment, wondering when she'd last felt this carefree. It was wonderful... and a little terrifying.
She stretched, then slipped out of bed and padded toward the bathroom. At the doorway, she glanced over her shoulder. Brian stood watching her with an expression that made her smile. Feeling unexpectedly bold, she gave him a sassy wink before disappearing into the bathroom and quietly closing the door behind her.
Twenty minutes later, the bell over the diner door jingled as they stepped inside, and the familiar scent of coffee and frying bacon wrapped around Tess like a blanket. A sign told them to seat themselves. The place wasn’t fancy—red vinyl booths, chrome trim dulled by years of use, and a long counter where patrons sat hunched over their mugs—but there was comfort in its simplicity and cleanliness. She’d passed the place a dozen times, always meaning to stop in. Now she was walking beside Brian, her hand brushing against his as they moved through the narrow aisle.
They stopped at an empty booth, and Tess slid onto one side, the vinyl cool against her bare legs beneath her sundress. Brian took the seat across from her, settling in with the easy comfort of a man on familiar ground.
She picked up the laminated menu more to occupy her hands than out of necessity. The truth was, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had breakfast out, and the thought of ordering pancakes and coffee with the man she’d had sex with last night felt oddly intimate.
A middle-aged waitress with a pencil stuck behind her ear appeared at their table, pad in hand. “Morning. Good to see you, Brian.”
