Page 51 of The Truth Serum
“But you are smart. You’re brilliant.”
She swallowed, tears flooding her eyes. She’d forgotten that too, the way he looked at her in shock and surprise whenever she said something smart. But that was only at the beginning, when the vicar had first put them together. It hadn’t taken long before he accepted her intelligence. Though, truth be told, she’d always tried to surprise him. She loved the way his eyes widened and then he’d give her this big grin and call her brilliant.
He liked that she was smart. But he didn’t like what she was doing now, when she looked down at her hands and felt ashamed. “You always muddle my head.”
“That’s fair,” he said. “You always muddle mine.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. Her emotions were running hither thither. Anger, fear, lust, shame. What were the seven deadly sins? Was she experiencing all of them at once?
“Say you’ll come on Thursday. Promise me you’ll be there,” he said.
She nodded. “I promise.”
“Good.” Then he hesitated and she wondered if he would kiss her one more time.
Please.
He did not. He pulled back and headed toward the window. He made quick work of opening it before grabbing the rope that still dangled outside, but she could see that his movements were rough. He limped and his ribs obviously ached.
“How long since your attack?”
He glanced back at her. “A couple weeks. Why?”
“Not enough time to heal broken ribs.”
“This?” he chuckled. “This is nothing. I’ve suffered worse, I promise you.”
She narrowed her eyes. More important, she pushed to her feet, wrapping the blanket around her as she moved. “Don’t lie to me, Nate. After everything, I cannot abide it.”
“After what everything?” he asked.
She shook her head, refusing to answer, mostly because she didn’t know what she meant. After the last decade of grief and self-doubt? After finally waking up from a decade of numbness?
“Nate!” she huffed. “Don’t lie. How bad are your ribs?”
His expression softened. “I really have had worse,” he said gently. “But only once and that was…” He grimaced. “That was bad. This…” He gestured to his ribs. “They ache. My feet are swollen, and every step reminds me that I just want to lie down.”
“Nate! You shouldn’t—”
“Yes, I should have.” His voice was emphatic. “I’ve wanted to talk with you for ten years. Nothing was going to stop me tonight. Certainly not a few bruises.”
“But they’re more than bruises,” she said.
“I’ll be careful. But don’t expect me to do much standing. The lending library is a place to sit and put one’s feet up.”
She snorted. “You sound like you’ve been there before when I know you haven’t. You probably don’t even know where it is.”
He rattled off the address while flashing her a cheeky grin. “Thursday morning, Becca. Don’t be late.”
As if she was the one who was ever late.
He pressed his fingers to his lips and blew her a rakish kiss. Then he gripped the rope and swung himself out, just as if he were a pirate. She rushed to the window, afraid to see if he’d fallen, but of course he hadn’t.
Actually, she couldn’t find him anywhere below. Then she heard a noise above her. Twisting around, she saw him climb the last few feet before disappearing onto her roof. She listened hard but didn’t hear a single footfall.
In the end, she dropped down on her bed, thinking through everything that had just happened. Her body still hummed, her breasts were achingly tight. But more surprising still was the soft smile that curved her lips.
Lips he had kissed. Breasts he had touched. Well, one breast. And how her womb trembled, her private area hot and wet. She remembered this feeling. Remembered, too, what her family would say if they knew what she had been doing and with whom.
