Page 9 of Fear the Reaper
After nuking it in the microwave, I grabbed a fork, a glass of orange juice and a napkin, then climbed to one of the stools. I ate slowly, trying to go over in my head the questions Reaper had asked. All of them professional and none of them about my love life. Did he know I hadn’t been with anyone since Roger turned into a sleaze ball? Did he even know about Roger?
Everyone knows about Roger.
Crap—I should call Estelle and let her know I wasn’t dead.
I sighed. Estelle Parks was the wife of the man I had the affair with. I hadn’t meant to be the other woman. I thought I’d found Mr. Right. Turned out he had a wife and a six month old he had conveniently forgotten to tell me about. My world crashed one day three years ago.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
I whirled around, my fork going flying. “Oh! Come on!”
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Reaper caught the fork before it hit the floor.
Thankfully, he assumed I was upset because I didn’t hear him enter the room. No, I was mad because he stood there, shirtless, skin flawless except for a scar over his left pec. But even that made Reaper look like every delicious thing I’d ever want to put in my mouth.
“It’s fine. I didn’t hear you come in.”
Liar! Liar! Pants on fire!
“I figure if I can’t sleep, I might as well eat.” I accepted the fork from him. “Thanks.”
“I came down for some water.”
“Is Swede leaving tomorrow?” I asked.
Reaper made his way around the counter and opened the fridge. He pulled out a bottle of water and closed it. “Yeah. He has to relieve another Protector.”
Inside, the horny part of me was doing back flips and pelvic thrusts. I wanted to facepalm at my thoughts but managed to remain nonchalant—barely.
“What’s the plan for me, then?”
“Well.” He wrung the cap from the bottle and lifted it to his lips. “We head back with him and I start digging. This is a really strange case—I really don’t have a clue where to start.”
“Maybe the license plate number of the car that was following me?”
Reaper tilted his head. It was obvious he was totally impressed. The pride it sent through me was illogical. Instead of saying anything, I put more food in my mouth.
“Perfect place to start.” He took a long drink from the bottle.
My eyes travelled to his Adam’s apple, the dance it did every time he swallowed would have been heavenly against my tongue. I choked then and dropped the fork on my plate. I held my breath, trying not to cough. My throat and eyes burned and my lungs screamed for air. Somehow, I managed to hold it together.
“You okay?” Reaper asked.
“Yeah.” Another lie. “Fine.”
“Get me the number in the morning, okay?”
“I will.”
“Okay—good night.”
I smiled. “Night, Reaper.”
I wasawake two hours after falling asleep. The lack of sleep was beginning to tell on my body. Ever muscle ached and my eyes were like they had sand paper rubbing against my eyeballs.
Birds chirped outside my window, and the sounds of footsteps moving above me made for a strange symphony I kind of liked. Still, I climbed out of bed, washed up in the bathroom, then dressed in a pair of jeans, black tank and a light blue cardigan. I then packed, dug for the license plate number in my cell, and scribbled it down on a page I ripped from my notebook After taking one final look at myself, I hurried down the stairs.
I was alone with Swede, who was standing over the stove. Surprised, I peeked around him to see he was making scrambled eggs and sausages.
