Spencer turns once again, his expression neutral as he watches me. “That’s how you survive. You’ve always been able to easily adapt to your surroundings.”
I squirm under his observation, wishing to change the subject. I’ve never liked the way he assessed me, always trying to figure me out, and most of the time, I want to tell him to kiss my ass.
Only because, most of the time, Spencer is correct in his assumptions—and it’s infuriating.
He slowly scans the rest of my bedroom, stopping when he notices the cream-colored vase on top of the dresser, a bouquet of black feathers sticking out of it. It totally doesn’t fit in with the rest of the décor in the room, but I found the odd arrangement at an antique store in Carmel and knew I had to have it.
“Nice feathers,” he drawls, his gaze finding mine.
I smile. “They reminded me of…me.”
“Still the fallen angel, Syl?”
“More like the black hearted angel who finally knows how to defend herself,” I correct him.
He nods. “I like this version of you.”
Pleasure courses through me and I tell myself to ignore it.
“Do you want to change out of your suit?” I ask.
“Am I deemed worthy enough to stay?”
“Do you want to stay?”
“I should probably head back.”
Disappointment crashes through me, but I lift my chin, fighting against the emotion. “Then go back. Make your report and let my brother know I’m fine.”
He lifts a brow. “You think I’m going to draw up a report on your current status for Whit?”
“That’s why you’re here, right?”
“I didn’t tell Whit I was coming.” He hesitates for only a moment. “He doesn’t even know I found you.”
Shock courses through me, rendering me still. “Really?” I squeak.
Spencer nods. “I told him I wasn’t going to look for you, but then I couldn’t help myself.”
I love that confession—far too much. “Are you leaving today or not?”
“I should.”
Irritation makes me snappy. “Answer me, Spence.”
“I’ll stay.”
Relief makes my knees wobbly. “For how long?”
“Until I have to go back.” His vagueness is irritating, but I don’t acknowledge it.
“You should change then.”
“You don’t like me in the suit?” He glances down at himself.
I like him in the suit too damn much, not that I would ever tell him. “You can’t make the hike in your fancy suit.”
“I can do just about anything in this suit.” He undoes the button, the jacket gaping open, showcasing the flat expanse of his stomach and how the crisp shirt is tucked into the waistband of his trousers perfectly.