“Yeah. Use my bathroom, which is right off my bedroom. Second drawer on the right side I have a pack of extra toothbrushes. Toothpaste is in the top drawer. Take your time.” He offered her a gentle smile before he left.
She glanced around the bare room one more time, taking in the tiny white dresser, the spindly chair, the bed that couldn’t be bigger than a double. The room was very sparse, the thin white blinds covering the window downright sterile. Clearly the man hadn’t bothered to decorate this room. She didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad one.
If it was fully decorated with knickknacks and crap, that meant a woman had done it. Guys don’t care about things like that. Not really.
Yeah. She’d take it as a good sign.
Stepping into her dress, she pulled it up until she was fully covered, then decided to yank off the T-shirt and leave it on the bed. Not before she brought it to her nose and gave it a delicate sniff though. It smelled like him, and she breathed in deep, feeling like some sort of creepy stalker with a serious Tate fetish.
Clearly losing all of her earthly possessions in a fire did strange things to a woman.
Wren snuck down the short hall and into Tate’s bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her. She glanced around, noticing that this room at least had some character. It reminded her of Tate for some reason, though there weren’t a lot of personal belongings in the room that she could see. No photos anywhere of friends or family, though there were plenty of photos featuring familiar landscapes she recognized, of the mountains and lake that she called home.
The photos were fabulous. She wondered who the photographer was.
The bathroom was clean, no signs of womanly products anywhere. She found the packet of toothbrushes—she recognized a Costco special when she saw one—and tore out a pink-handled brush, figuring Tate would never use it anyway. She dug up the toothpaste in the top drawer and brushed her teeth extra hard, feeling the need to brush away all the grime and grit like it was negativity she could banish with a few minutes of scrubbing. A shower would be good, but she’d end up soaking under the hot spray for far too long, and that Josh guy might wonder what was taking so long.
Hopefully she could take a shower after he left.
She chanced a look at her reflection in the mirror and winced. Her hair was a mess, and remnants of mascara were smudged below her eyes. She wet her finger and wiped the leftover makeup away before smoothing down her hair as best as she could.
It would have to do.
Taking a deep breath, she exited Tate’s room and ventured out into the living room, where the most intimidating man in full Cal Fire uniform waited for her. He rose from the couch the second he saw her, approaching with his hand stuck out for her to shake.
“Josh Bailey. You must be Wren.” His expression was dead serious. “I’m sorry about what happened last night.”
They’d encountered each other before, at a barbecue West and Harper hosted a few weeks ago. “Thank you. Nice to meet you. Again.” Even in her time of trouble, she was polite. Her mama would be proud.
Oh God, did her parents know what happened? She needed to call them, let them know she was all right. And her friends. Everyone was probably worried sick about her. She needed to reach out to everyone as soon as this interview was over.
She really hoped it wouldn’t take too long.
“Sit down.” Tate was suddenly there, right beside her, guiding her toward an overstuffed leather chair that faced the couch Josh had just been sitting on. She sat down, looking up at him as he frowned at her. He looked upset. Worried. Was there something more going on that she didn’t know? “You want something to drink?”
“Do you have coffee?” She desperately needed the caffeine to bring her back to life. She was still feeling a little groggy.
“Yeah, I can brew you some. Give me a minute.” He leaned over her, his hands braced on the armrests and his mouth right at her ear. Completely surrounding her. “You don’t mind if I’m in the kitchen? You wanted me to sit with you while Josh asked you questions.”
“No, go. It’s fine.” She offered him a brave smile to prove she was all right with it. And she was.
> Sort of.
“I won’t be far. Call me if you need me.” He lifted away from her and turned to Josh, his voice stern. “She’s all yours, but go easy on her. She’s had a rough night.”
Wren watched Tate go to the kitchen, shocked by his overprotective manner. Who knew he could really be her hero? His gruff hovering was kind of a turn-on.
“I know you’re probably still in shock over what happened, so I won’t take up too much of your time,” Josh said.
She turned her attention to him and smiled. “I’ll try my best to answer whatever questions you have.”
“Great. I’m going to record this. Hope you don’t mind.” He hit a button on his phone and spoke into it, noting the date and time and to whom he was speaking. “Can you tell me what time you left your home yesterday, Miss Gallagher?” He recited her address for the record.
“I was gone most of the day and came back around four or four thirty? I took a shower and changed, eventually leaving the house around six. I had a dinner party to go to,” she explained.
“Right, at Harper Hill and Weston Gallagher’s home.” Josh nodded. “Did you see anything or anyone suspicious during the approximately two hours that you were home yesterday afternoon?”
She frowned, trying to recall if she might’ve seen anything strange, but she knew she hadn’t. It had been a normal day. “Not at all. I live on a pretty isolated road with hardly any neighbors. I’d notice if there was something—or someone—unfamiliar lurking about.”