I chewed my lower lip. “Why was hehere?”
“I have no idea,” Beck said.
“And you didn’t see him before…”
I was thinking about the fact that we were all told not to leave town.
About the fact that we were all suspects.
Beck shook his head. “Not until we found you in the gazebo.”
I sighed. “Weird.”
“Try not to worry,” Beck said. He had a surprisingly reassuring way about him for a guy with so many tattoos. “I’m sure Sheriff Crowe will figure it out.”
“I guess you’re right.”
I was almost relieved when he straightened out of his lean. Not that it stopped me from wanting to climb him like a tree.
“I should let you get settled,” he said. “There should be towels and stuff in the bathroom. Can I get you anything else?”
“I think I’m good. Thank you. And thanks for dinner too.”
“My pleasure.” He started to leave, then turned around. “And Avery?”
I liked the way my name sounded in his mouth. “Yeah?”
“I’m here for anything you need.”
The words were innocent enough.
So why did my face — and my body — feel hot as he disappeared down the stairs?
7
AVERY
I tooka long hot shower and engaged in a little self-care while I was at it, hoping to cool the heat that had blossomed between my thighs while Beck had been executing his criminally sexy lean against my doorframe.
I wasn’t a total sexual novice, but the truth was, my sexual experiences had been pretty underwhelming so far. Sex was… fine. I just didn’t see what all the fuss was about, which was why it was weird that my imagination was in overdrive thanks to my three new roommates.
I stepped out of the shower more relaxed, convinced my response to Beck was a product of physical tension rather than any kind of real desire. That made a lot more sense than the possibility that I’d developed a rabid case of the lusts for three men — make that two; Dane seemed like a real sourpuss — I’d just met.
I combed out my hair and blew it dry so it wouldn’t make my pillow wet while I slept, then slipped into one of my matching PJ sets, silky blue bottoms with pale yellow birds and a matching top with tiny yellow buttons.
I unpacked my clothes, arranging them in the dresser and armoire, and tucked my suitcases into the closet before climbing into bed with a sigh.
Holy wow, it had been a day.
I stretched out, savoring the crisp sheets against my bare feet, turned out the light, and stared up at the ceiling.
I was in Blackwell Hollow. In Aunt Evelyn’s house, a house I only vaguely remembered from when I was a child. The bed was bigger than my bed in the city, the ceilings higher than the ones in my apartment, the windows larger.
Also, some kind of bug was chirping up a racket outside. Were they crickets? I didn’t know, but I thought the country was supposed to be quiet?
I considered closing the windows, but the breeze felt too nice, so I closed my eyes, tried to settle my breathing, to relax my body.
It was kind of weird that the body in the gazebo — Harold Pembroke — had mud on his pants. I mean, sure, there was mud around the property. Presumably.