“Alyssa?”
Nick West’s husky timbre has all heads turning toward the front of the house.
The sultry way he calls my name makes my stomach tumble over itself, not unlike those first butterflies adolescents feel when they experience their first taste of love.
What is wrong with me?
“Who’s here now?” Corinne asks, looking up from her tarot spread. “And why is your face all flushed?”
Sending a glare in her direction, I head toward the foyer, where I find Nick standing just inside the door, one hand on the holster of his gun. He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a black Henley, a shirt that appears to be a Nick West staple.
My eyes widen as I take in his defensive stance.
His hand drops to his side. “I just got home from a call, and your front door was wide open. I wanted to check to make sure you were okay.”
The fact that he’s watching out for me makes me feel warm all over.
“Oh, yeah... sorry. I was carrying boxes out and left it open,” I say, ignoring the heat racing over my skin.
“I should be the one apologizing. I just charged into your house.”
He runs his hand back through his hair and bites down on his bottom lip. I don’t know what to fixate on. It’s a bit disarming. My belly flops again and if I could slap myself and not look certifiable, I would. Instead, I shake off the indecent perusal my wayward eyes took for a moment and bring myself back to center.
“All good, considering last week. I appreciate you checking in.”
He nods his head, eyes narrowing and a half grin appearing. “What do we have here?” he asks, head tilting to the side.
I turn to look over my shoulder where Corinne stands, arm stretched out with the previously soaked rosemary in hand.
My eyes close as I count to ten, trying to think of a way to explain the snowballing oddities that keep occurring here.
“Don’t mind her,” I say, shaking off the building headache.
“Hername is Corinne, and you are?” She bats her lashes, laying the flirtation on rather thick.
Nick takes a step forward, reaching out his hand to Corinne. “Nick West. I’m Alyssa’s neighbor.”
Corinne lifts the rosemary to signal she won’t be shaking his hand. He nods, dropping his arm to his side.
“That was very kind of you to check on your spinster neighbor,” Corinne says, puckering her red-painted lips like a loon.
Who is this Chatty Cathy? She’s not been this nice since I met her.
I pull a face, and Nick smothers a chuckle.
“Well, since everything is all right here, I’d better get going.”
“He’s got a gun and a badge, but no uniform,” Billy mumbles. “What is he, a mall cop?”
“He’s the detective,” I say, turning my head just slightly.
“What was that?” Nick asks, brows tilted inward.
I straighten, realizing my error. “She asked what was with the gun,” I say in explanation, trying to cover up my misstep.
Nick looks between Corinne and me, nodding. “Part of the job.” He smiles at her.
“I didn’t—”
