looked out the window, to the apartment he couldn’t see.
“You think our perp might be waiting to do that now—clean up again?”
Gideon lifted a shoulder. “I don’t want to take that chance.”
They both shared another quiet look.
* * *
People had come throughout the course of the day.
Most of them had since gone, although she’d had to all but throw a few of her visitors out the door.
It was down to two now, her cousin Griffin and Brannon. She could almost have forgotten Brannon. Okay, well maybe forgotten wasn’t the right word, but he wasn’t a harsh, abrasive rub against her senses the way everybody else was right now.
Including her cousin.
If Griffin didn’t leave soon, she thought she just might rip her hair out. Although she suspected she’d feel better if she ripped out his .
“I’m tired,” she announced to the room in general.
Neither of the men said much of anything.
She started to beat out a tattoo on the arm of her chair, staring at the screen of the television without really seeing anything. As the beat of her fingers got harder and louder, she could feel their attention shift her way, linger, then move away. Every few minutes, their gazes would return.
Finally, she shot a look at Griffin and tried again. “I am tired .”
“You can go to bed, honey.” He smiled at her.
That made her feel bad—and that pissed her off.
“I’ll lock up for you,” Griffin said. He shoved upright and gave Brannon a smile that would have looked more at home on a caged hyena—teeth all bared and his hackles raised.
Man, these two didn’t like each other.
“You have a good night now, Brannon.” Griffin made a show of being overly polite with the words. Southern women weren’t the only ones who knew how to kill with kindness.
“Brannon doesn’t have to go,” Hannah said, the words escaping her before she knew what she was going to say.
Griffin whipped his head around, staring at her.
Brannon was surprised, too, but she barely noticed that.
She stared at her cousin for a long moment and then looked down at her feet. Sometime earlier in the day, Brannon had painted her toenails. Brannon McKay had painted her toenails, all because she’d said she couldn’t remember if she’d liked pedicures and he’d told her he knew she did. Then he’d painted her toenails a bright, cherry red.
The sight of the cheerful color now made a knot settle in her throat and she looked at her cousin. “I need him to stay. We…” There was hurt in Griffin’s eyes. She hadn’t meant to do that. She didn’t want to hurt anybody, but most especially him. Although her memories were still vague, somehow she knew the two of them had been there for each other when nobody else had been.
“You two really did decide to try and work things out, didn’t you?” Griffin said. He looked over at Brannon.
Brannon jerked a shoulder in a shrug. “She’s stuck up in my head all the time. I couldn’t keep fighting it.”
His eyes strayed to Hannah’s and lingered and she felt her heart skip a few beats in that moment.
“Hell. That’s romantic,” Griffin said. Then he blew out a breath. His eyes narrowed on Brannon and he studied the other man for a long moment.
When he held out a hand, Hannah felt something in her chest knot up.
Watching the two men make some move toward friendship had her feeling all stupid and sappy and weepy.
She was going to claim pregnancy hormones.
She was right at one month.
She could do that, right?
It took just a few more minutes for them to be alone and Hannah found herself more self-conscious than she could ever remember feeling. Of course, there was still plenty she didn’t remember, so that wasn’t saying much. Still, as Brannon finished locking up the door, she busied herself in the kitchen with stupid little things that didn’t need doing—like washing her hands, again, and wiping down a counter that didn’t need to be wiped down.
Her head was a muzzy,
“You think our perp might be waiting to do that now—clean up again?”
Gideon lifted a shoulder. “I don’t want to take that chance.”
They both shared another quiet look.
* * *
People had come throughout the course of the day.
Most of them had since gone, although she’d had to all but throw a few of her visitors out the door.
It was down to two now, her cousin Griffin and Brannon. She could almost have forgotten Brannon. Okay, well maybe forgotten wasn’t the right word, but he wasn’t a harsh, abrasive rub against her senses the way everybody else was right now.
Including her cousin.
If Griffin didn’t leave soon, she thought she just might rip her hair out. Although she suspected she’d feel better if she ripped out his .
“I’m tired,” she announced to the room in general.
Neither of the men said much of anything.
She started to beat out a tattoo on the arm of her chair, staring at the screen of the television without really seeing anything. As the beat of her fingers got harder and louder, she could feel their attention shift her way, linger, then move away. Every few minutes, their gazes would return.
Finally, she shot a look at Griffin and tried again. “I am tired .”
“You can go to bed, honey.” He smiled at her.
That made her feel bad—and that pissed her off.
“I’ll lock up for you,” Griffin said. He shoved upright and gave Brannon a smile that would have looked more at home on a caged hyena—teeth all bared and his hackles raised.
Man, these two didn’t like each other.
“You have a good night now, Brannon.” Griffin made a show of being overly polite with the words. Southern women weren’t the only ones who knew how to kill with kindness.
“Brannon doesn’t have to go,” Hannah said, the words escaping her before she knew what she was going to say.
Griffin whipped his head around, staring at her.
Brannon was surprised, too, but she barely noticed that.
She stared at her cousin for a long moment and then looked down at her feet. Sometime earlier in the day, Brannon had painted her toenails. Brannon McKay had painted her toenails, all because she’d said she couldn’t remember if she’d liked pedicures and he’d told her he knew she did. Then he’d painted her toenails a bright, cherry red.
The sight of the cheerful color now made a knot settle in her throat and she looked at her cousin. “I need him to stay. We…” There was hurt in Griffin’s eyes. She hadn’t meant to do that. She didn’t want to hurt anybody, but most especially him. Although her memories were still vague, somehow she knew the two of them had been there for each other when nobody else had been.
“You two really did decide to try and work things out, didn’t you?” Griffin said. He looked over at Brannon.
Brannon jerked a shoulder in a shrug. “She’s stuck up in my head all the time. I couldn’t keep fighting it.”
His eyes strayed to Hannah’s and lingered and she felt her heart skip a few beats in that moment.
“Hell. That’s romantic,” Griffin said. Then he blew out a breath. His eyes narrowed on Brannon and he studied the other man for a long moment.
When he held out a hand, Hannah felt something in her chest knot up.
Watching the two men make some move toward friendship had her feeling all stupid and sappy and weepy.
She was going to claim pregnancy hormones.
She was right at one month.
She could do that, right?
It took just a few more minutes for them to be alone and Hannah found herself more self-conscious than she could ever remember feeling. Of course, there was still plenty she didn’t remember, so that wasn’t saying much. Still, as Brannon finished locking up the door, she busied herself in the kitchen with stupid little things that didn’t need doing—like washing her hands, again, and wiping down a counter that didn’t need to be wiped down.
Her head was a muzzy,
Similar Books
