“It will be.” She sounded certain. “Just a quick visit to look for some records and then I’ll drop everything off at the sheriff’s office.”
“Promise?” After the scare tonight, I wanted Avery as far away from Harold’s death as she could get.
"Promise.”
40
AVERY
We orderedpizza for dinner and I kept Beck company in the kitchen while he threw together a chocolate cake. I’d never met a guy — or anyone actually — who could throw together a from-scratch cake before, but Beck made it look easy, throwing flour, sugar, and eggs into a bowl while he told me about his day at the bakery.
I’d only been in Blackwell Hollow for a week and it was already starting to feel like home. I knew I needed to contact a realtor, get the process moving to list the house and bakery, but the thought of it made me feel a little sick.
If the house already felt like home to me, how would Beck, Noah, and Dane feel when they had to leave? And what about the bakery and Malcolm?
Icaredabout these things, about these people, and I wasn’t sure what to do about that.
My nervous system slowly returned to normal as we ate our pizza in the media room with a movie. The man who’d chased me through the streets of Blackwell Hollow had probably taken ten years off my life, but being surrounded by the three menwho’d somehow become part of my daily life went a long way toward making me feel normal again.
I realized with surprise that I felt safe with them, and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the fact that if I was right about Harold secretly working with Hearthstone, then Beck, Noah, and Dane had no motive for killing Harold.
The food hit my system like a sedative, and by the time I polished off my cake, my eyes were droopy, my system crashing.
I said goodnight to the guys and went to bed. Alone.
I took a bath, then got into pajamas and crawled into bed, expecting to fall asleep hard and fast. Instead all I could think about was how scared I’d been on my way home from Lena’s.
Surrounded by my three hot roommates and plied with pizza and cake, the danger had receded, but alone in the dark, it all came rushing back, and my heart raced as I tossed and turned, my chest constricting with anxiety.
Finally, I sat up in bed, frustrated. I was exhausted, but my racing mind wouldn’t let me sleep.
Maybe another cup of tea would help.
I left my room and headed for the stairs, then stopped in my tracks when I realized the bedroom door across from mine was half-open. In the week I’d been living in the house, I’d never seen one of the other doors open, and I approached it with curiosity, wondering who was awake.
I knocked softly, and a second later Dane’s voice sounded from inside. “Yeah.”
I pushed open the door.
Dane sat on a large bed in nothing but jeans, his back against a tufted leather headboard. The room was painted dark gray, a rug laid over the hardwood floors, and in one corner, a modern gold floor lamp cast a soft glow over the otherwise dark room.
But really, all my attention was on him, the picture of casual perfection, his long muscular legs stretched out in front of him,his feet bare under his jeans. The symbols — brick and stone and columns rendered in minimalist black ink — tattooed on his chest made more sense now.
They were construction symbols. Dane had been building something for himself, and he’d done it here, with Aunt Evelyn’s help.
The rush of warmth in my chest was more uncomfortable than the heat between my thighs.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked.
I shook my head. “You?”
“Negative.”
“Want a cup of tea?” I asked.
“No, thanks.”
He didn’t seem to want to talk, but for some reason, I didn’t want to leave.