Page 7 of Tice's Kind of Trouble
“You’ll see.” He scrubs his hand over his face. “I don’t mean to be cryptic—you’ll understand.”
As we climb the hill, his truck—capable and steady—roars along, and a warm feeling sweeps over me again.
Tice brought me to his home because he wanted me safe.
Fatigue and relief make me lean back into the seat, with dried tears caking my eyelashes. “I’m wiped out, and it’s not even nine o’clock in the morning.”
“You can nap by the pool while I talk to the police about your B&E report.”
I sit up in the seat, the belt biting into my shoulder. “What report?”
Tice stops in front of the triple garage at the side of his house. He reaches over, tapping the garage opener on my visor. As the door rises, he slowly looks over at me. “I hope you called the police.”
Oh my god. I cover my mouth. “I was so upset, I just called Kane.”
Shaking my head, I cover my cheeks with my hands.
His expression softens. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll file the report. They can come out to speak to you later.”
“I’m not ready to go back there or talk about it right now.” I shudder. “Thank you for making the call. I’ll put my address in your phone’s notes app.”
The garage door rolls all the way up and he pulls into the pristine place. “No need for you to give me the address. I’ve already got it—from your file.”
Wait, what? My headache grows more arms. “You have a file on me?”
“Technically on your brother. But the kind of work we’re going to be doing means I know everything.”
“Everything,” I murmur. “Is it weird I find that oddly sexy?”
He grins—slow, hot, and utterly mind-bending. “I won’t judge that if you won’t judge me for starting to fantasize about you when I saw your photo in your brother’s background check.”
Oh. Wow.
Tice fantasized about me?
With that, he flings open his door and gets out of the truck.
I might clench my legs together, but no one has to know that, right?
FIVE
Tice
Bethany’s already opening the passenger door by the time I make it around the truck.
A growl catches in my throat. “Gorgeous, when you’re with me, I get the door.”
She slides from the truck to stand between me and the vehicle. Time and space seem to collapse.
Just us. Right here.
It’s impossible to fight the pull she has—the magnetic lure of her pretty eyes that causes me to crowd in close.
Leaning in, I rest my hand on the roof of my Ford, ducking down until her warm lavender scent takes over my lungs. “I just wanted to kiss those damned tears off your face earlier.”
“Well,” she breathes with a soft little laugh, “you could do that. I wouldn’t complain.”
When I press my nose against her temple, I lock my muscles. Force myself not to devour her. “I’m fucked up, Bethany. You shouldn’t let me close to you.”
