“What the hell?” I stood and lifted a cushion, honestly expecting concrete bricks. There were none, but there was also no padding. The couch must’ve been older than me and used to death because it was awful.
It doesn’t matter. I need to get to bed anyway.
I grabbed the preprogramed cell that was waiting for me on the coffee table before doing a quick sweep of the rest of my temporary home. The bathroom in the hall was… a bathroom. There wasn’t much to it, though I’d really been hoping for a tub rather than a shower—even if it was a nice one. The dining room and walk-in pantry were both empty and would likely remain that way. The kitchen at the back of the house was modern and nicely updated, and it seemed to include everything but food.
And dishes for said food.
That also didn’t matter much since the lovely space would mostly go to waste.
I backtracked into the narrow hallway between the living room and dining room to open the door opposite the bathroom. Using my sharp intellect and powers of deduction—or basic processof elimination—I’d figured it was the bedroom. I just hadn’t expected it to be so large.
Or maybe, like the living room, it appeared that way because the only thing in it was a twin-size mattress on a metal frame.
I’m so falling off that.
I might’ve been small, but I liked big comfort. My dressers at home were in my living room because my lush queen-sized bed dominated my room.
The narrow abomination in front of me was far from the worst thing I’d slept on, though, so I would survive the temporary arrangement. Especially since I was exhausted, and it was already haphazardly made up with a comforter and a few pillows.
After grabbing my toiletries, I did my routine in the bathroom before padding across the hall. I didn’t have the energy or desire to dig into my boxes for pajamas, so I stripped off my pants and did woman magic to remove my bra without taking off my shirt.
I should’ve learned my lesson from the couch, but I didn’t. I collapsed face-first onto the bed.
And instantly regretted it when pain radiated from my smashed boobs.
The couch is made with concrete bricks, but the mattress is stuffed with flattened cardboard boxes. It has to be.
And why do I have the sneaking suspicion that Murdoch had a hand in the hurried preparations?
Rolling onto my back—with zero bounce from the mattress under me—I checked my phone to see if there was anything.
My luck improved when I saw the tech guys had come through on my request for some pre-installed apps. It got even better when I saw there wasn’t a message waiting to say the whole plan was scrapped.
But there was a message waiting from one of the few pre-saved contacts.
Rhys:
Next time, tell me when you need a hand.
Me:
Why?
Rhys:
So I can help.
Me:
Why?
Rhys:
Because it’s neighborly.
We didn’t need to be neighborly yet since we were supposed to be slow playing it. The captain had ordered an increase of patrol units near Rye and the house to give me time to lay the groundwork so my sudden—and constant—presence didn’t sound any alarm bells.
Me: