At forty, my baby-making days are over. Not that I physically can’t do it, but I have no interest in starting over with an infant. I can’t imagine at forty-five he’s gunning for babies, but you never know. One day I’ll ask, but there’s no sense in bringing it up now. I’d like to enjoy whatever is happening between us for as long as I can. No need to scare him away with talk of babies and the lack of them where I’m concerned.
“Why don’t you go take a shower,” I suggest, seeing that he’s still in his uniform. “I’ll stay here with her until you’re done.”
“Are you sure?”
I smile. “Positive.”
He returns my smile, shaking his head while looking at the ground. “I’m gonna take you up on that.” He motions down at his pants. “I’d barely made it in the door when Jackie called.”
“I noticed. Go ahead. I’ll be all right.”
He nods before jumping to it. I watch him until he’s all the way down the dark hallway, out of sight. A smile is plastered across myface. Nick West makes me feel things I haven’t felt in years. The beginning butterflies that tickle and make you feel lightheaded.
I’m lost in thought when the television begins to play that same tired cartoon, at least two volumes higher. I practically jump out of my skin, head darting to the floor where, thankfully, Zoey still sleeps soundly.
What the hell?
It wasn’t even on that channel. I changed it. I snatch up the remote, stopping on the first thing that isn’t full of dancing characters. It’s a true-crime channel discussing a missing-person case in California. The girl is young and beautiful. She was last seen leaving a club two years ago.
There’s something about the girl that feels…familiar. I lean forward, getting a closer look at the image of the young woman that’s locked on the screen. That’s when it hits me. She looks similar to the girl in red. They’re not the same woman, but they do have a striking resemblance.
I sit back, wanting to know more about this missing girl. The scene changes to a shot of a bay, the camera sweeping out at the dark water, the sun long gone. The narrator is discussing how the club had been close to the water, and they’d feared she’d stumbled off, drunk, and possibly drowned.
The television freezes again.
“Why? What gives?” I whisper into the silence.
“What do you mean?” Nick’s husky voice startles me, and I yelp, grabbing the front of my sweater.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to frighten you.” He chuckles.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I was talking to myself,” I explain. “Something seems to be wrong with your TV.”
I turn to look at him, and my mouth dries. He’s wearing a pair of black sweatpants, no shirt, one hand drying his hair with a white towel. I gulp as I take in every inch of him.
I have never seen a sexier sight in my life. The man is droolworthy.
“I feel so much better,” he says, throwing the towel over a chair in the kitchen. “Has she stirred?”
“Not at all. She’s out cold.”
“Joe just sent me a text. Apparently, he found someone to cover for him and met Jackie at the hospital. They gave her an IV and discharged her about ten minutes ago. He’s gonna get Jack home and settled, and then he’ll be stopping by to get Zoey.”
“That’s good news about Jackie,” I say, and he nods.
“And that they’re coming for Sleeping Beauty over there,” he says, smiling down at his niece. “Not that I don’t want her to stay here,” he quickly amends.
“I’m sure she’ll get better sleep in her own bed.” I yawn, stretching my hands over my head. “I should probably head back home.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you here for so long.”
I lift a hand. “You didn’t. I’m glad you texted.”
I stand, and he follows me to the door. He reaches out and grabs my hand, twisting me into his chest.
Leather and sandalwood wash over me, and I inhale deeply. He’s intoxicating.
Droolworthy? Intoxicating?Ava would call me cringe for using such adjectives to describe a man. And maybe I am, but both are true.
