Page 84 of Beautiful Revenge
His lips tip up in one corner. “I never claimed to be romantic but look at me now.”
“You did claim to be an asshole yesterday.”
“An arsehole yesterday, romantic today. I’m a new man today, baby. I’m about to order you all the leftovers from the kitchen to prove it. Come here.”
I shake my head. “You’re showered and fresh. I feel like a scum bucket.”
“You’re hardly a scum bucket. I know because we offer a fishing excursion. The scum bucket doesn’t stand a chance next to you.” He closes his laptop and tosses it to the sofa next to him. His demand is more insistent when he extends a hand. “Come here, baby.”
Despite the way I feel and look, the need to be close to him is too strong. I push off the door jamb and make my way across the living room. He never takes his eyes off me. When I take his hand, he gives me a yank, pulls me onto his lap, and doesn’t hesitate taking full advantage of my state of undress. His hand dips below the shirt I’m wearing, and his other palms the side of my ass to pull me tight to his body.
My fingertips dance on the buttons of his crisp, clean dress shirt. “You’re going to be wrinkled.”
He gives my ass a squeeze and runs his other hand up the outside of my bare leg. “If it means you’re right here, I’ll gladly look like a rumpled mess.”
“You’re always so put together and polished. I’d hate to think about what your staff will think when they see you walking around looking like a shriveled-up raisin.”
His blue eyes narrow. “Why does that sound like a jab about my age?”
I shake my head and run my fingers along his strongjawline. “I’d never, even though I have no clue what that number is because you haven’t told me.”
“You haven’t asked.”
I bite my lip and mull that over. I’m doing all kinds of things that are out of the norm for me. Not only have I slept with a man I just met, but I did it after I swore off men for life. Not knowing his age is icing on my abnormal cake.
Instead of asking, I offer more information about myself. “I’m thirty.”
“Bullshit,” he boomerangs. “I told you I know everything about you, and that includes how old you are. You’re twenty-nine. Don’t try to age yourself to make me feel better about this.”
He ends that sentence with a firmer grope than I’ve gotten since he pulled me onto his lap.
“I’m not lying on the behalf of your ego. I’m using simple math and rounding up. I may be twenty-nine, but I’ll be thirty next month. Now I have to ask—how old are you?”
He leans in to press his lips to mine. “We have an entire decade between us. Forty—barely, but there you go.”
“They call forty the new thirty, so we’re practically the same age.”
He shakes his head. “Not me. I feel like I’ve lived more decades than anyone should. Not that I give a fuck about my age. It’s a number. But this is not what I want to talk about.”
“You’re the one who brought it up.” I lean back and focus on what I really want to know. “Let’s talk about what happened yesterday. Please tell me the Sheriff has news about the shooting.”
His expression tightens, and for a moment I think he’s keeping something from me again. I’d argue, but he doesn’t give me a chance. “No, and I’m angry. I talked to Dean first thing this morning, and he’s got nothing. His men questioned hikers in the area when it happened, but no one saw anything. They heard the shots, but that was it.”
I slump in his arms. “It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack, isn’t it?”
“I thought I ran through all the worst-case scenarios when I bought this place, but a fucking sharpshooter in the woods did not make the list in this sleepy little town. I’ve got camerasall over this place, but there’s no way for me to monitor the forest. Dean is still waiting on forensics on the bullet. It doesn’t matter how I spin it, it doesn’t make sense. Malloy is connected to Turner who knew I was investigating him, but I wasn’t the one shot at. Your ex wanted you dead, but there’s no motivation to carry it out if you’re not married, yet you were the one targeted.” His hand frames the side of my face, and his eyes look nothing short of tortured. “I’d do anything if I could’ve traded places with you.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. And I thought I felt that way yesterday when you were in the crosshairs, but it’s nothing compared to how I feel after digging further into your cocksucker ex while you were sleeping.”
“You found something on Albert?”
He doesn’t have a chance to answer, because his cell vibrates on the coffee table. He holds me tight as he reaches for it. “Hold on to that thought, baby. This is the front desk.” He answers the call and puts it on speaker. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Donnelly, we have a situation.” It’s Felicity, and her tone is anxious. But now that I think about it, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard her anything other than anxious. “I tried to deal with it on my own, but I need your help on this one.”
My wide eyes dart to Devon’s.
