Page 215 of Tell Me Something True

Afraid she’d let him get away with that lie if it meant keeping him here.

But though he was always more than happy to hide—his thoughts, his feelings, what he truly wanted—he wouldn’t let her do so.

He shifted, bringing his knees inward until they bumped against her outer thighs. Held them there, the material of his jeans stiff and scratchy against her bare skin, until she finally looked up.

He slowly shook his head.

She believed him.

She believed him because of the way he easily held her gaze. The way his expression remained clear. Honest. She believed him even though he didn’t often tell her the truth.

And when he did, it usually hurt.

She switched to his other hand. “Are you in trouble?” she whispered. “With the police?”

If he’d done something illegal and she was aiding and abetting a criminal, she was going to be mighty ticked off.

She didn’t even want to think about the lecture Miles would give her.

Reed shook his head again.

It was easier to believe him this time.

He’d have to be an idiot to hide from the law with the assistant chief of police’s sister.

Done with his hands, she pulled off the gloves, then wrapped the last clean cloth around the ice pack. Held it against his lip, her other hand on his cheek, ostensibly to keep his head still, but really, she just liked touching him.

With her hand on his cheek, his skin warm under her fingers, the stubble there scratchy, it helped her remember that though he was hurt, he was here. He was safe.

He’d be okay.

She’d make sure of it.

Drawing her hand away from his cheek, she nodded at the ice pack, and he took it. Kept it pressed against his mouth, watching her as she cleaned up, putting the first aid kit back to rights, tossing the gloves and other garbage into her trash can—including his shirt.

No way that was ever getting clean.

But there was also no way she could do what she was about to do if he remained shirtless.

She crossed to her closet and eased the door open. Draped the dirty washcloths over her hamper to dry, then went to her dresser and pulled out the large Drillers T-shirt she sometimes slept in.

The Drillers T-shirt she used to sleep in, she amended after she’d taken the ice pack and then helped pull the shirt over Reed’s head. She was never going to be able to wear it again.

Not without thinking about him wearing it.

Too bad. She really liked that shirt.

Palms sweating, nerves racing through her, she did something else she didn’t normally do, at least, not at night.

She locked her bedroom door.

The click of the lock engaging sounded overly loud to her ears. Piercing and ominous, like a death knell ringing through the night, warning of her impending doom.

Chewing on her lower lip, she frowned. Huh. Guess her brothers were right.

She really did have a dramatic streak.

Then again, she was about to get herself into a real pickle here. The biggest, pickliest one she’d ever been in. A little drama was required.

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