“You need to break open the egg, so the yolk coats this.” He pushes his fork into the center of the egg, and a small gush of golden yellow spills over the vegetable hash. He pulls a small bite onto the fork and moves it toward my mouth.
“You’re feeding me now?”
“We’re alone too.” He raises his brows with a wiggle. “You nervous?”
“Only if you’ve poisoned me.”
“Shut up and put this in your mouth,” he says as he stares at my lips and nudges the fork forward.
I smile and lift my eyebrow. “Tell me more.” There’s sarcasm laced in that statement, but I want to hear him say that again. Preferably after he loses the shorts.
He lets out a small laugh. “I’ve got plenty to fill that mouth of yours, G.”
I open my mouth and take a bite. It’s fucking heaven. The promise he just made is one I plan to collect on at some point in this life, but for now, I’ll settle for this delicious meal.
He leans in closer so that I can’t help but stop chewing. I stare at his lips while he says, “Stop overthinking.” As I lift my eyes to his, my neck feels warm. My cheeks burn, and a rolling tide of excitement passes through my stomach. “Eat.”
He passes the fork back and I take it. But not before his fingers brush mine in the exchange. That’s all it takes for me to remember what I’m doing here right now. It’s not the time to be flirting or whatever the hellthatjust was.
I clear my throat. “Why are you here?”
He looks at me as he digs into his bowl. “Why do you think?”
I drop my fork and it makes a larger clank than I had intended, but I’m not in the mood to make guesses.
“Why are you here, Henry?” I ask quietly.
“You weren’t safe.”
“And now I am?”
“You’re safe here. With me, yes.”
“Why are you here, and not an agent? Or Bea?”
He eats two more giant bites from his bowl and then turns to put it in the oversized sink. Everything in this place is exaggerated. The size of the space. The art hanging from the walls. The man in front of me. All of it feels broad and big. A bit overwhelming.
I wait patiently for more from him. But as I wait, I’m spending more energy keeping my feelings to myself. Like my emotions no longer have a lock. That the shock of running into my past, or it finding me, means I want to tell him everything. To tell him the details of what happened. How I lost everyone who meant something to me. How the broken bones, dislocated jaw, shattered pelvis, and all the bruises that followed were the easiest parts of it. How I cried so hard, and for so long, I don’t think I have the ability to cry like that ever again. How I looked for him too. How I was worried that somehow he would be dead, because of me.
The piece I never understood between us. The part that I still don’t know how to understand is why wouldn’t he have asked more questions. How was it so easy for him to just believe that I wasn’t some kind of criminal liar out to swindle him or his family out of money? I came to his town, granted unknowingly, but I was there with a new name, a new look, and his only response was that he wanted me. Oh, I’m such a fuckwit.
I pride myself on not being a fuckwit, but here I am. I never questioned why he just went along with being an arm’s-length enemy. Why it wasn’t a bigger deal to Bea for me to be connected to someone in Strutt’s Peak? The realization must be written all over my face.
“Are you going to answer me, Henry?”
He ignores the question and walks toward the veranda. He pulls out an oversized phone and thrusts it at me.
“Read it.”
Agent Harper
The problem has been addressed. Working through the clean-up now. Give me the rest of the 48 hours. Keep her safe, Riggs.
I push it back to him.
“That tells me absolutely nothing.” I shift in my seat, starting to find nothing more than anger at this entire situation. At myself for not connecting the dots sooner. “I can’t believe this. I’m so fucking stupid.” I’m already up and moving to the other side of the house. Away from the smirk on his face. I need to breathe in some of this ocean air, otherwise, I might start kicking something.Or someone.
He raises his voice so I can hear him as I step onto the patio. “I met your Aunt Bea, or rather, Agent Bea Harper, two nights after I met you. Well, I should say after I met Giselle.” I stop and turn around, eyes wide. Watching him and waiting for more. “We both know exactly when I met the real you,” he says, dragging his hands through his hair. “She had an offer for me that seemed mutually beneficial.” As he brushes right past me and walks toward the pool, I clench my jaw and fist my hands at my sides.