Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
It leaves my forearm pressed against her stomach.
If it’s innocent, why does this feel so compromising?
Damn.
She’s so warm through the shirt.
This perfect heated softness making me far too aware of her closeness.
Her scent makes my nostrils flare, this muted sweet beeswax smell that’s clung to her since childhood. Probably a side effect of a life raised around her mama’s handmade beeswax products, especially when she’d pitch in a hand sometimes like every good kid with parents running a small biz.
There’s also something about that smell that’s just Ophelia Sanderson.
It guts me how much I’ve missed it.
I’m damn near intoxicated as I breathe slowly, listening to her.
“He told me I was next,” she whispers, looking around like she’s afraid this freak might come flying through the door. “That if I get any closer to ‘them,’ whoever he means, I’ll be the next to die. He really seemed upset, almost manic. I don’t know. Was he threatening me or trying to warn me?”
“Sounds awfully threatening to me,” I say coldly.
“I thought so too—at first. But after he left and I finally calmed down, now I’m not so sure.”
“Philia, he hurt you,” I snarl.
“Yeah, but I’m just not sure he meant to. He looked wild, almost scared. I don’t think he was thinking right.” Ophelia bows her head, touching her fingertips to the bruises on her arm. “I hate to say it, but I don’t think he meant any harm. Even if he scared me out of my wits...”
“Ophelia.” I barely hold myself back from snapping. “When a strange man shows up yelling death threats in your face and throwing you around, he doesn’t get the charitable interpretation.”
Her eyes fall.
“...yeah. I guess you’re right.” She presses her lips together. “But he just left, too. He banged on the door a little after I locked myself inside and I think he tried to look in the window. I thought he was about to break in but then he was just... gone.”
Gone, but most definitely not fucking forgotten.
“And if he comes back? What then?” There’s an edge in my voice.
I want to hear it from her mouth.
I want her to show me she’s still got the same stubborn common sense after all these years.
“I’ll be more careful,” she says. “I’ll check before I go outside. Every time.”
“Doesn’t mean you’ll be safe here if we don’t know what he wanted. He’ll probably be more stealthy next time,” I point out before snapping the tube of cream closed and tossing it back into the kit. “You know what, fuck this.”
“Excuse me?” Her brows go up.
“Pack your shit. You’re staying with me tonight.”
Ophelia’s head jerks up, her green eyes flashing like warning lights.
For a second, I think she’s about to pass out, and it’s got nothing to do with her run-in with Evil Jeeves.
“I’m doing what? Why would I do something so insane?”
“Because I don’t like the thought of you here all alone if that guy shows up again. Who the fuck knows when Ros will actually come home? You seen her?” I pull my phone out of my uniform and flick to the camera app. “Now hold your arms out and sit still so I can get a few photos for the report.”
A frustrated little noise spills past Ophelia’s lips, but she complies, thrusting her arms out straight so the bruises are more visible.
“Look, Grant, I’m not staying with you. I don’t need a babysitter. I think I just overreacted. For all I know, that guy’s someone’s grandpa with a bad case of dementia. Confused about where he is or something. I bet the people who love him are looking for him everywhere. Is there anybody around town missing?”
I shake my head firmly.
“No, and if that’s the case, we’ll find out and have him home in a day,” I say, quickly snapping several photos. “Considering the shit going on here in the last year, though, I’m not taking that risk. You wait around for a happy ending and you might not have an ending at all.”
“Huh? It’s not that risky—”
“Ophelia.” I cut her off with a growl, locking my gaze to stubborn green eyes. “Listen, the last time we had creepy assholes following the new girl around, she wound up with one girl dead in her living room and a psycho trying to feed her to the Jacobins’ pigs. With that kind of shit going on, I can’t risk it being harmless.” I stop, my jaw clenching, then force myself to add, “Especially not when it’s you.”
When I shut my yap, I notice she’d started to open her mouth. Her brows are drawn together in a furious line.
She stops and gives me another strange look I can’t interpret as she frowns.
Her lower lip thrusts out in a bratty little pout I’m not fucking staring at.
Honest to God.
“I didn’t tell you Ros hasn’t been coming home. What are you hiding, Grant? What’s going on with her?”