Page 82 of Auctioned to the Devil

By Thursday, the sheriff’s department has enough evidence to connect Sloan Development to three fires, six cases of property damage, dozens of threats, and enough bribery to keep half the attorneys in Colorado employed for the next year.

By Friday, I’m packing.

“You’re not taking that.” He grunts.

I look over my shoulder.

Caleb stands in his bedroom doorway, arms crossed over his chest, watching me shove another sweater into my suitcase.

“It’s mine.”

“It’s ugly.”

“You’ve seen me wear this at least four times.”

“Been ugly every time.” I throw it at him.

He catches it one-handed.

“Asshole,” I laugh.

“City girl.”

He tosses the sweater onto the bed.

I pick it up.

He takes it again.

“Caleb.”

“What?”

“Give it back.”

“No.”

I stare at him.

He’s impossible.

For the past four days, he’s also been avoiding the conversation neither of us wants to have.

Richard is in jail.

The men who kidnapped me are in custody.

The lodge is secure.

The roads are clear.

There’s no reason for me to keep sleeping in Caleb’s bed.

There’s no reason for him to check the locks before I fall asleep.

No reason for his hand to find my waist while I’m making coffee.

No reason for me to wake up with my leg tangled between his and his mouth against my shoulder.