Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“Technically it’s afternoon,” he said, turning and bringing his arms around her. He kissed her, lips lingering before he murmured, “I’m glad you were able to get a few more hours of sleep. Hungry?”
“Mm,” she said. “Actually, ravenous. And that smells amazing.”
He turned back to the counter, picking up the plate and gesturing to the table. “I used what I found in your fridge. And by the way, I’m glad to see you bought a piece of furniture.”
She smiled, sitting down where there was already butter and syrup. She’d bought the syrup to go along with the toaster waffles in her freezer, but this was far better. “I was going to make eggs and toast, but I remembered your sweet tooth,” he said, placing a cup of coffee in front of her.
She took a grateful sip of the coffee and dug in to the food. Gavin put a couple of pieces of french toast on his plate and began to butter them. She almost felt like she’d woken up in a dream. Almost. It felt dreamy, yes, but also . . . incredibly right, as though she’d taken a detour—albeit a necessary one—and was finally back on the road she was meant to travel. “Do you have a word puzzle going on?” he asked, nodding to the paper with the notes she’d made as she’d tried to determine the word the killer might be trying to spell out for them with periodic table elements. She’d worked on it in the kitchen for a while before finally abandoning it to reread the notes in the living room, where he’d found her.
She finished chewing, shrugging one shoulder. She didn’t see how talking a few specifics of the case with him was a big deal. He was officially consulting, and he’d already been privy to information they weren’t yet releasing, and . . . she trusted him. “I think our killer is using the periodic table to send some sort of message or spell out a word. I might be wrong, or I might not have enough letters.”
He glanced at the letters she’d written in order. He took a sip of coffee before saying, “Or it’s an anagram.”
She sighed. Just when her brain had started feeling better. “Or that.” She went over the letters as she ate, but no anagram she could come up with made sense. Olive? Voile? Loveliness could be in the works, but again, she didn’t know what might be missing. She pushed the notes away. All of that would come crashing back tomorrow. For now? It was her day off. “Do you have to go into work today?” she asked, knowing that despite it being Wednesday, casinos—like police stations—never closed, and he might work weekends like her and have off days in the middle of the week.
He wiped his mouth with a napkin and shook his head. “I called off sick.”
“Faker.”
“Hardly. I’m exhausted. You kept me up all night checking on you and then had me working out—strenuously, I might add—at the break of dawn.”
She raised a brow. “I didn’t hear much complaining.”
He laughed, hooking one arm over the back of his chair, so casually gorgeous it made her heart skip a beat. And suddenly, she felt strangely shy.
“In all seriousness,” she said, “thank you. Thank you for taking care of me. For staying.”
His face sobered too. “Thank you for asking.”
She leaned over and planted her lips on his, and when he moaned against her mouth, she stood, put one leg over him, and sat on his lap as they continued to kiss. Only their clothes separated them, and Sienna’s blood began to heat as she pressed closer, closer.
“God, Sienna,” he moaned, breaking from her lips just long enough to say, “Move in with me.”
She leaned back slightly, surprise causing her to still. Her eyes washed over his features, vulnerability in his expression, and her heart jolted. “Move in with you?” she repeated. “Isn’t it a bit . . . soon?”
“It’s years too late,” he said, giving her a boyish smile. “Plus,” he went on, “if you need more of a reason, I have all kinds of furniture we can do this on.”
“Tempting,” she murmured, leaning in to kiss him again just as the doorbell rang. They both froze, their eyes opening, lips still touching.
Sienna pulled away, looking toward the door in hopes that whoever it was would go away. The doorbell rang again, followed by a loud rap. “Who in the world is that?” she asked, climbing reluctantly off Gavin’s lap.
He pulled her back, and she let out a laughing yelp as he nuzzled into the side of her neck. She could feel a smile on his face as he gave her a small push. “They seem determined,” he said.
With a sigh, she headed to the front door and looked through the peephole to see Mirabelle. Oh. She pulled it open, and Mirabelle rushed in and set a casserole dish on the floor, a plate perched on top, covered in foil. “Oh, honey, thank goodness. You look good. You must be feeling better. How’s your head?”