Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 67432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“I’m good. Thanks, though.”
He shrugged and grabbed a handful, popping them in his mouth and speaking before he even finished swallowing. “Boundaries. We gotta talk about them. I think it’s fine if we do the boyfriend stuff in front of other people, like hold hands and kiss on the cheek or whatever, but only when it’s in front of people. It needs to feel like an act.”
I sucked in a breath. “Fair enough,” I said, suddenly wondering how the hell I was going to get through the next two weeks without fantasizing about Colton every second of every day.
“And we have to limit ourselves—only two kisses a day. So choose wisely.”
“Two kisses each?” I tossed out, even though a hundred sounded like a much more reasonable number to me.
“Sure, two kisses each.” Colton tipped his head back, looking up at the ceiling and exposing his neck in a way that made my mouth water. “Sleeping situation?”
“I think being in the same room makes the most sense.” Colton nodded as I continued. “But if there’s a couch or a roll-out bed, I’ll take that, and you just get the regular bed.”
Even though sleeping next to Colton would be a wet dream come true, I wanted to work overtime to make him comfortable. I was there for a job, and it was likely one of the most important jobs of my career; the last thing I wanted to do was cross any lines and make Colton regret hiring me. I didn’t want to disappoint him… or hurt him. Not again.
“We’ll figure out the sleeping arrangement when we get there. If we’ve got to share a bed and put pillows between us, then fine.” Colton grabbed another handful of slightly singed popcorn. “I think we’ll be good.”
“I’m sure we’ll be good. Everything’s going to work out. I’ll be able to scope out your family in a way a regular detective wouldn’t be able to, basically going undercover so that I can figure out what happened to your mom. Asking housekeeping for a couple of extra pillows is one of the last things I’m worried about.” I glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was already midnight. The day had flown right on by.
“What are you worried about?” Colton’s question caught me a little off guard. I didn’t want him to think there was something that concerned me, even though there were quite a few things that made me nervous.
Failing to find out what happened to Amelia.
Getting discovered as a fraud by your family.
Developing feelings for you all over again.
Exposing myself to major heartbreak. All over again.
“Nothing much,” I said, drinking a big chug of white wine. I didn’t do fears—at least, I didn’t like talking about them. Same with emotions. I kept things off to the side, slowly processing them on my own. Sharing my anxieties with Colton wasn’t going to help the situation in any way.
“Really? Nothing? Because I can name about six things off the top of my head that have me up at night.”
I reached a hand out, squeezing his shoulder. It was meant as a friendly gesture, but my hand lingered for a moment longer than normal, my fingers slowly grazing off the slope of his muscular frame. “Whatever comes up won’t be anything I can’t handle. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands with me.”
Colton sighed. He picked up his wineglass and gave it a swirl, the legs of the wine sticking to the sides of the glass as he watched it settle. “This isn’t a mistake, right?”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’m not overreacting, right?”
I shook my head, moved a little closer to Colton on the couch. “I think you have plenty of reason to be suspicious.”
“But of who? My sister, my brother? My dad? I hate suspecting any of them.”
Colton rubbed his face. I could see the stress rising through him, envisioning steam whistling out of his ears and nose. I hated to see him this riled up. Colton had too bright of a smile to be replaced by the frown he currently wore.
“Maybe it was none of them. But maybe one of them happens to know something that points me in the right direction. Some kind of business connection that wasn’t widely shared or a romantic connection that went sour. It could be anything, so let’s not get too ahead of ourselves here.” I reached out for him again, this time leaving my hand on his shoulder. “Okay?”
He looked into my eyes, and that smile of his returned, slowly but surely. “How do you do that?”
“What?”
“Make things always feel like they’re going to turn out alright. Even when we were tog—when we were younger, you always knew how to make me feel better about something.” His blue eyes glittered under the warm light shining from the floor lamp.
“I think it’s because I always look for the positive in things. My mom’s a big optimist. I got it from her.” I squeezed his shoulder and let go, but I dropped my hand on his thigh instead. He looked down, smile still on his face.