Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“Morning.” His voice is gravelly and delicious, and it sends goose bumps skating across my skin.
“Hey.” I move to the fridge to grab some juice. “You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” He shrugs as his pen taps the receipt of Kendall’s last known sale.
I won’t lie. I was upset when I realized I’d missed an imperative part of her investigation, but I gave myself a brief reprieve when I learned what weekend it happened. I’d taken the blame for the murder of the man who had sexually assaulted me, and almost lost my job in the process. My head wasn’t in “work mode” that weekend. I was barely surviving. If it weren’t for the months I spent in Montana with Demi, I doubt I’d still be with the bureau, searching for victims in a sea of millions.
That’s how hard those few days wrecked me.
I snap back to the present when Grayson announces the reason for his lagging sleep schedule. “Crew’s work is impressive.” He waits a beat before adding, “Almost obsessive.”
“Sounds like someone else I know.” I made my remark in jest, but it heightens the turmoil in Grayson’s eyes. “Are you okay? You seem…” Tense. Angry. Terrified. “Quiet.”
When he looks up at me, I pour myself a glass of juice, praying that the heaviness of the jug will excuse the shake of my hands. “I’m good. You?”
“I’m great.” Liar! I switch to honesty when I drink in the name on the file he’s reading. “I feel like we’re getting closer. And it’s nice to know someone who won’t give up is looking for Kendall.”
“Someone who isn’t you?”
I murmur in agreement before joining him at the island, finally remembering that this isn’t a man I need to tiptoe around. I can be honest with him. “Do you have questions? Crew could probably answer them better than I can, but I’m happy to help.”
Grayson acknowledges my offer before he slots his backside onto the chair next to the one his ass was occupying, so I can sit.
We chat about the case for nearly an hour, trading theories and ideas. Grayson’s energy is different today. He’s focused, but there’s a relentlessness beneath it, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It makes me panic that he knows I wasn’t asleep last night. I tried to limit the number of times I swallowed, but that was difficult when the only scent pluming from him was our combined smell.
Grayson’s attention is elsewhere; there’s no denying this, but he still cooks us breakfast while discussing the particulars of Kendall’s case. It is a simple breakfast this morning—scrambled eggs on toast—but it is full of hearty goodness since he adds onions, bell peppers, and bacon to the eggy mix.
I polish my plate without coming up for air, and Grayson does the same. I’m glad his turmoil isn’t so deep that he can’t eat.
After unpacking the dishwasher and replacing the clean dishes with dirty ones, Grayson announces that he’s going to have a shower. I almost warn that there’s no hot water until I realize two hours have passed in a nanosecond, so I keep my mouth shut.
Before he exits, Grayson twists back around. He holds the framework of the kitchen entrance in a way all romance book lovers are obsessed with, and it does crazy things to my insides. “Do you have any plans tonight?”
I freeze in surprise, though I try to mask it. “No, nothing.” Real cool, Macy. Not.
He hesitates, then says, “Cameron texted earlier. She invited us over for dinner.”
“Oh.” That was not what I expected him to say. “I take it things went well yesterday?” I try to keep jealousy out of my tone. I miserably fail.
I’m such a cow.
Grayson’s expression is hard to read. He looks a little lost, and his gaze is fleeting, like he’s suddenly not a fan of eye contact. “It was fine.” Finally, his eyes find mine. “I said I’d check with you first before giving her an answer. We don’t have to go. If you’ve got more important things to do, I’ll say no. We’ve got a ton of fresh evidence to comb over.”
I swallow to soothe my burning throat before mustering up a fake smile. “No. We should go. Even when snowed under, we still have to eat. Thanks for inviting me.” Since my reply is honest, it sounds that way.
I don’t want to see them together. I’m not that sick and demented. But perhaps seeing Cameron greet Grayson with open arms will reset the imagery I have of her in my head. Despite her being a victim, I keep seeing Cameron as a criminal. Perhaps tonight will alter my perspective.
“I’ll make dessert. Do you know her favorite one?”
Grayson smiles, and for half a second, I feel better.
This is the right thing to do. Supporting him is the correct course of action.