Page 58 of Secret Stalker

“No trouble at all. The guest room’s the first one down the hall on the left. There are toothbrushes, shampoo, everything you need in there. Oh, except something to sleep in. My room is right next door. You’re welcome to grab one of my T-shirts to sleep in if you want.”

“Sounds good.” She grabbed her purse from one of the end tables and started toward the hallway, then stopped. “Max?”

He’d just rounded the island going into the kitchen but waited and raised a questioning brow.

“Thank you,” she said. “For everything. I know we haven’t figured out how to clear my name yet. But for the first time in, well, forever, I feel like there’s hope. So, thanks.”

“You can always count on me, Bex. I’m always here for you. No matter what.” Sappy, but true. No sense in denying it.

Her eyes widened, and then she whirled around and disappeared down the hall.

Max let out a deep breath and headed into the kitchen. They’d talked right through dinner and his stomach was rumbling. He grabbed a handful of grapes from the refrigerator and leaned against the counter, popping them into his mouth and chasing them with a bottle of water. When he finished his snack, he headed into the main room to kill the lights.

Was Bex asleep already? Probably. She’d seemed so worn out. He couldn’t help smiling, thinking about her lying in the middle of the bed, wearing one of his T-shirts. He froze in the middle of the room, his smile fading. His T-shirts. He’d told her to grab one. He kept them in his top dresser drawer.

But that wasn’t all he kept in that drawer.

He swore and flipped off the main light then hurried down the hallway. The light was on in the master bedroom, streaming into the hall. Hurry. Stop her. He bolted to the doorway then froze. Bex was standing in front of the dresser, her hair freshly brushed, but still wearing her jeans and blouse. One of his T-shirts dangled from her left hand. Maybe he’d caught her in time.

Her eyes slowly rose to his, and then she held up her other hand, the one holding a diamond solitaire ring.

* * *

BEX’SWHOLEBODYshook as she held the same ring that Max had offered her so long ago. There was no mistaking it. Every facet had been branded into her memory. It was definitely the same ring.

“Why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you keep it?”

His jaw tightened and he crossed the room to her, swiping the ring from her palm and grabbing the little black box from the drawer full of T-shirts. “No reason, just never got around to returning it.” He shoved the ring back in its velvet bed and popped the lid shut.

“It had to have cost a small fortune. You probably made payments on it for years,” she said. “You couldn’t have forgotten it.”

His expression was shuttered, remote, as he faced her. “I believe that you have everything you need in the guest room. Have a good night’s sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Oh, Max. What have I done?” she whispered. Hot tears traced down her cheeks.

He let out an impatient breath and strode to the door, holding it open. “Good night, Bex.”

Like two duelers at ten paces, they faced each other—her with his T-shirt clutched in her hand, him with the promise of forever in his. A promise he’d once offered out of love and she’d refused, also out of love. But he didn’t understand that. She’d never explained any of that to him. And seeing the ring in his drawer had shocked her to the core, and made her realize for the first time that maybe she’d been wrong. She’d made a decision to protect him. But she’d also shut him out, never explained her reasons, and left him in a state of limbo, always wondering why.

This amazing man in front of her deserved so much better than that. She wasn’t the girl she’d been back then. She was a grown woman. And it was high time she came clean about everything, not just the horrible events around Bobby’s death. She needed to explain to Max why she’d told him no.

She slowly padded toward him in her bare feet and lifted his hand away from the door.

He frowned down at her, obviously not sure what she was doing. She smiled sadly and pushed the door closed.

A wary look came over him. “Bex, what are you—”

She pressed her fingers against his lips, startling him into silence. “I owe you an explanation, for this.”

She tried to take the velvet box, but he pulled it back, a gentle tug-of-war.

“Please,” she said. “I don’t deserve your trust, but I’m asking for it. Trust me. I’ll just put this back in the drawer.”

Without a word, his back so stiff he could have been a soldier submitting to inspection, he relinquished his hold on the box.

Unable to resist another look, Bex opened the lid and turned it, watching the solitaire twinkle beneath the overhead light.

“Bex—”

---