But he’d been in thegazebo.
I flipped onto my side and fluffed the pillow under my head.
What was a town councilman doing here, at Aunt Evelyn’s house? And where had Beck, Noah, and Dane been in the moments before I’d found poor Harold’s body?
I could be living with a murderer or three.
Then again, they could be thinking the same thing about me.
I sat up with a sigh. This wasn’t working.
I needed something. Specifically, I needed more milk and cookies.
I checked my phone, charging on one of the mirrored nightstands next to the bed.
It was almost midnight. The house was quiet — quieter than the symphony of insects outside my window. The guys wereprobably asleep. Besides, it was technically my house, which was even weirder to think about now that I was trying to sleep in it than it had been when I’d been in the city.
I pulled a cardigan out of the dresser and slipped it on, then left my room.
One of the table lamps still glowed in the sitting area at the center of the second-floor landing but the doors to the other rooms were closed. I wondered which one belonged to Beck, which ones to Noah and Dane.
I’d never lived with a man before, and while I wasn’t some kind of sheltered virgin, it still felt dangerous to know they were so close.
My pulse quickened and I hurried through the sitting area, past the closed doors, before I could get myself all worked up again.
The wooden banister was cool under my hand, the runner soft under my feet as I descended to the main floor. The antique grandfather clock in the foyer ticked heavily as I walked past it to start down the long hall.
A glow emanated from the kitchen, and I realized when I got there that it came from soft lights running under the upper cabinets. I wondered if they came on automatically or if someone left them on overnight.
I headed for the cookies, piled high under a glass dome on the counter, then just about peed my pants when a voice cut through the dark from the table where we’d eaten our dinner.
“Caught with your hand in the cookie jar.”
“Jiminy cricket!” Adrenaline surged through my body before I realized the voice came from Dane, shirtless at the table in front of a laptop. I braced myself on the island with both hands, like I’d just run a marathon and needed to catch my breath, although that probably had as much to do with his inked muscles — on full and heart-stopping display — as it did withbeing surprised in the kitchen in the middle of the night. “Youhaveto stop doing that.”
“I’m just sitting here. You’re the one sneaking cookies.”
I straightened to flash him what I hoped was a withering glare. “I’m notsneakingcookies. I couldn’t sleep, and Beck told me to help myself to anything in the kitchen.Mykitchen, if you want to get technical about it.”
His gray eyes flashed in the moment before he returned his gaze to his computer. “You some kind of religious freak?”
“What?” How had we gone from cookies and the kitchen to religion? “Why would you ask me that?”
“The goofy words you use when you’re surprised.” He was typing away, like our conversation was a minor distraction for him whenIfelt all hot and prickly. The nerve. “I’m guessing it’s because you don’t like to swear.”
I lifted my chin and pulled down a glass. “I don’t. So?”
“So you don’t like to swear but you’re not a religious freak?” He shook his head like he didn’t believe it. “I’m guessing you’re a religious freak.”
“I am not…” I took a deep breath, trying to calm my irritation. “First of all, that’s not a nice thing to say about people who are religious. Second, I don’t even go to church, not that it’s any of your business.”
“Then why don’t you swear?”
I pulled milk from the fridge (surprisingly well stocked) and twisted off the cap. “I just don’t like the way it feels in my mouth.”
It was the only way I could explain it. Everyone around me swore, including my mom, but I’d just never liked the way it felt. Which didn’t mean I didn’t swear in my head. I definitely did, because then I didn’t have to worry about the mouth-feel thing.
What could I say? It was complicated.