Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“Maybe? I guess they could smell the peppermint, which is Nana’s signature blend,” I muttered, pretty comfy in his arms. “I have no idea who could have slipped lotion into Gloria’s crappy mint concoction.”
He chuckled, low and rough. “You don’t know it was crappy.”
“I bet the lotion made it taste better,” I said loyally. “Nana makes the best pie. She always does.”
He raised an eyebrow. “More importantly, rumor has it your Nonna was sticking up for your Nana.”
“You should’ve seen it happen.” I leaned closer, my voice softer than I intended. His warmth was grounding after the chaos of the day.
“Does anybody have an explanation for their sudden, ah, friendship?”
Wouldn’t that be great? “No. More importantly, nobody knows how to ask. They’ve never talked about why they don’t like each other, so I doubt they’ll start now.” My head reeled for a second. “All of a sudden, Nonna was looking out for Nana.”
“Don’t read too much into it,” Aiden drawled easily, crossing to the sofa and dropping down with me cradled on his lap. His voice carried the same mix of calm and command that always made me want to argue and melt at the same time. “I could start a fire,” he said, glancing toward the empty fireplace.
“It’s not that cold.” My body relaxed even as my heart picked up. We’d been updating and decorating his three-bedroom cabin for almost a month, and I loved the place. “What do you mean, don’t read too much into it?”
“Well, your Nonna’s into that new detective agency she started,” he said, stretching an arm along the back of the sofa. “Chances are she figured she had a case on her hands.”
I snuggled into him. “Yeah, but she wasn’t acting like an investigator,” I said. “She was defending Nana.”
“I can’t explain that,” he muttered.
“None of us can,” I said quietly. “It was really weird.”
He looked down at me, his expression softening. “All you can do is talk to her about it.”
“Yeah.” My shoulders loosened, and I rested against him, breathing in that familiar mix of man and motor oil. “Hey, thanks for helping with the float. We’re still going to have all the St. Patrick’s Day events, right?”
“Yeah.” His thumb brushed over my arm, slow and warm. “I called in a favor with the techs from Spokane. They should have the shop cleared by morning. Everything will stay on track.” He smiled faintly. “I’d never miss Silverville’s St. Patrick’s Day week.”
Tingles exploded in my abdomen. “That’s good. You are Irish, you know.”
“So I’ve been told.” He leaned in and kissed me, soft at first, then more certain. More heat sparked low in my stomach, a pulse of something too real to ignore.
His phone buzzed.
I sighed, leaning away from his tempting mouth. “Come on.”
He reached into his back pocket. “Hold on.” He lifted the phone to his ear. “Devlin.”
His body didn’t stiffen, but somehow I felt him withdraw even though I was still pressed against him. “Yep. I’ll be right down.” He ended the call and exhaled, the shift in him immediate.
“Oh man,” I said softly. What was happening with the ATF now?
He grinned. “I have to go down to work. We just got some news on a different case.”
“What case?” I asked automatically.
He kissed the tip of my nose, the gesture almost enough to distract me. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
“Oh, right.” I tried to sound casual, but it didn’t stop my brain from spinning.
Aiden stood and gently set me back on the sofa before crossing to the keypad to arm the alarm.
“When do you think you’ll be back?” I asked, looking around, suddenly feeling the space of the room without him in it.
“Only a couple hours. I promise.”
I tried not to sigh. Usually when Aiden went back to the office this late, it meant one of his cases had heated up and he was about to leave town again. He worked for a specialty unit within the ATF—one of the few teams based outside the main city offices. It was an experimental setup, and I really hoped it was working. I didn’t want to lose him to Los Angeles.
“All right,” I murmured, my stomach growling. “Do we still have huckleberry pie?”
He ducked his head as he moved toward the door.
Amusement battled with disappointment inside me. I wanted pie. “Did you eat all the pie?”
He shrugged, his shoulders seriously broad in that dark shirt. “Not all at one time.”
“There’d better be ice cream left,” I warned.
“There is.” He looked over his shoulder and winked. “I only ate the pie.”
I rolled my eyes as he slipped out the door and disappeared into the rain. The sound of the alarm arming filled the quiet. He always made sure I was safe. I smiled and wandered into the kitchen, hoping there was enough ice cream to make it interesting. The cabin felt emptier without him in it, with the kind of quiet that settled under my skin.