Page 12 of Midnight Clear

He chuckled and put the key back behind the light. “Like where? Under the doormat?”

“Stop running,” she said. “Everything is starting to spin.”

Since Hank was standing perfectly still he wasn’t sure exactly what he was supposed to do next.

“You’re very strong,” she said, and his brows shot up as she started squeezing his biceps.

“Uh, Sophie?”

Her fingers walked up his shoulder and touched the spot just under his ear and he knew he needed to get her out of his arms. She wasn’t going to remember any of this once the fever broke. But he sure would.

“Guess what?” she asked, giggling slightly and then groaning when he moved into the house and shut the door behind him.

“What?” he asked.

“You’ve got to stop yelling,” she said, her hand going to her head. “I’m telling a story and you’re supposed to listen.”

“Sorry,” he said. “Carry on.”

“When Erma Winstock’s roof caved in, I watched you rebuild it.”

“Did you?” he asked, pleased at the thought.

He looked around the inside of the house for a first impression, and he found the house suited her. It was small and sparse and clean. She’d done some updates—a dark green wallpaper with delicate flowers above freshly painted wainscoting in the same green. The floors were original and well taken care of. There was a small dining room to the right and a living area to the left. In front was a narrow hallway he assumed led to bedrooms so he started heading in that direction.

“I can see Erma’s house if I stand just right at the kitchen window,” Sophie said. “I’d stand there drinking my coffee every day. I liked the way the muscles moved in your back every time you swung a hammer. You have a great back.”

He stopped and looked down at her, expecting to see a flirtatious look in her eyes or a sly smile, but her eyes were half closed and her mouth seemed to be moving of its own volition. The color had come back to her face now and it was flushed with the fever.

“And here I thought you’d spent all this time ignoring me,” he said.

“Oh, I wasn’t ignoring you,” she said. “You make my mouth feel like sawdust.”

He chuckled again and said, “Which way is your bedroom?”

“It’s the one where my bed is,” she said. “I need to take my jacket off. It’s hot in here. Maybe turn on the air-conditioning.”

“I think that’s the fever talking,” he said, looking into the two open bedroom doors. One was barely larger than a closet and had a desk, a giant wall calendar, and a treadmill. The other option must be her bedroom. “Here we go.”

Hank turned on the light and shook his head. He didn’t know how she functioned in a space so small. A double bed was centered on the wall with an ornate iron headboard and footboard. It was obvious she liked green. Her bedding was a soft shade of sage and the white reading chair in the corner had a blanket in the same color.

Again, her tastes were simple and neat and clean. The only clutter in the room was a pair of earrings she’d left on the dresser.

“I’m going to set you down,” he said, lowering her so her feet touched the ground. “Don’t move too fast now.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just need to rest my eyes a bit.”

“I think you need to rest more than that, sugar,” he said.

“Sophie.”

“What?” he asked.

“My name is Sophie. Not Sugar.”

His lips twitched as he helped her out of her jacket and tossed it on the chair next to the bed.

“Let’s get your shoes off,” he said, moving her to the edge of the bed and sitting her down gently. He bent down to pick up her foot and she went backward onto the bed.

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