Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78603 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
He’s quiet for a moment, taking another bite of pizza before asking, “How long has Stuart worked there?”
I think for a second, then respond. “Seven months. He started right after I had to let go of a couple of other guys. I figured he’d be a good fit. He’s quick, and he seems like a hard worker.”
I pause, suddenly feeling uneasy under Boone’s watchful eyes. I look at him, furrowing my brow. “Why? Do you think Stuart could be the one doing this?”
Boone’s gaze hardens for just a second before he looks back down at his plate. “I don’t know. But I’ll keep an eye on him. Anyone with a record—even a small one—deserves to be watched.”
I swallow, feeling the weight of his words. “Okay. But I’m telling you, Stuart isn’t the type. He’s just... a kid. I trust him.”
Boone doesn’t respond, but I can tell he’s still processing everything. The air feels thick now, like everything is about to change. The pizza no longer tastes as sweet.
Chapter 11
Boone
The night falls quietly over the cabin, and the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth is the only sound filling the room. Aubree and I have spent the evening in easy conversation, the tension from earlier in the day fading into something more relaxed. But as we move toward bedtime, the weight of my thoughts grows heavier.
I can’t get the image of her out of my head. Her laughter, her smile, the way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention. I try to shove all of that aside, reminding myself that I’m here to do a job, and nothing more. She’s my responsibility—nothing more, nothing less.
But that thought doesn’t stop the way my chest tightens when I glance over at her, standing near the bathroom door, her hair falling loosely around her shoulders. There’s something about the way she moves, the way she carries herself, that’s slowly worming its way into my mind. It’s messing with my focus, and I don’t like it.
“I’m heading to bed,” I say, trying to sound casual, as I head toward the bedroom.
She looks up from where she’s standing and gives me a small smile, her eyes soft in the dim light. “Okay. Goodnight, Boone.”
The way she says my name makes my chest feel tight. Something about it. Her voice. Her smile. It hits me in a way I didn’t expect.
I swallow, forcing my thoughts away. “Goodnight, Aubree.”
I start to turn, but then something unexpected happens. She hesitates, her fingers twitching nervously at her sides. My heart pounds in my chest as I watch her, wondering what she’s about to say.
“Boone?” she says softly, her voice quiet in the stillness of the night. “Can I... sleep in your bed again tonight?”
My breath catches in my throat. My mind races, every part of me screaming not to say yes, not to make this any more complicated than it already is. But her shy tone, the way her eyes drop to the floor as if she’s embarrassed to ask, does something to me.
“Are you sure?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. I can hear the stupid question as soon as it leaves my lips. What am I even asking? I want her to sleep in my bed. I want her close. I just... can’t admit it. Not yet.
She looks up at me, a tiny blush staining her cheeks. “Yeah. I just... I feel better when I’m near you.”
God, that hits me harder than it should. My chest tightens again, a foreign feeling spreading through me. It’s something I can’t quite name, but it’s making it hard to breathe. I don’t want her to feel vulnerable. I don’t want her to be scared. I want to be the one who makes everything better, even if I’m just here for protection.
“Of course,” I say before I can second-guess myself. “Come on.”
I step aside to let her enter, my heart pounding as I watch her walk past me. She pauses at the edge of the bed, glancing at me before sitting down on the edge, her hands smoothing out the blanket. She’s acting shy again, like she’s not entirely sure if it’s okay to be here.
I swallow hard, trying to ignore the growing ache in my chest. I strip off my shirt and throw it into a chair, turning off the lamp beside the bed. The room is dark, save for the faint moonlight spilling through the window.
She climbs into the bed beside me, her movements slow, cautious. The air between us is thick with unspoken things, things I’m not ready to acknowledge. She’s lying there, her back facing me, and I can’t help but notice the way the curve of her shoulders looks in the low light, the way her hair falls just perfectly over her back.