Page 73 of Love Me Fearless

Seeing my old friend in connection to this investigation would be kind of a mind-bender, but also fucking awesome.

“Did you find anything useful today on top of that boulder?” I ask as Zach lines up his shot.

“We’ll see. DNA takes weeks to process.” Zach tosses his shoe but it lands short.

“Luke might be able to speed things up.”

“We could certainly use those resources.” His face tightens in a grimace. “I can’t shake the fear that we’re running out of time.”

Fear crawls up my spine as Zach makes his final toss. Because running out of time can mean only one thing: He believes Marin’s murderer is preparing to strike again.

Chapter Eighteen

When I arrive home,I’m so preoccupied with Hutch’s imminent arrival that I don’t see the lifeless bunny on my welcome mat until I climb the final step to my porch.

A chill prickles the back of my neck. The bunny is small enough to be a baby. How did it get here? There are plenty of cats in the neighborhood, and the calico who lives across the street sometimes hunts birds in my yard. Did he leave me this little gift?

I let myself inside and set my things on the dining room table, then grab a plastic grocery bag from under my sink. Using the underside of the bag like a glove, I carefully pick up the bunny. Its little body is limp. I’m not squeamish, but something about this task is unnerving. I glance up and down the street as I walk the poor thing to the trash can, but the neighborhood is quiet like always.

Back inside, after thoroughly scrubbing my hands, I change into jeans and a T-shirt and do a blitz clean of the house. Though I tell myself Hutch isnotending up in my bed tonight, clean sheets are always a good idea.

My thoughts have spun round and round all day. How do I reconcile what my body is craving with what my heart needs?

It’s only a matter of time before Hutch leaves town. Considering how successful Louisa’s procedure went today, that could be soon. How much longer do I have? Days? A week?

We’ve already broken our unspoken rule to stay in the friend zone. Do I shut us down now, and keep my heart safe, or throw caution to the wind and enjoy the ride?

Even though the crash will break me.

I jump in the shower for a quick rinse, but once I’m facing my closet, I’m at a loss of what to wear. Go all in with my cropped, off-the-shoulder black sweater with the wide hem and my best jeans, or my favorite blouse and wide-leg trousers? Or I could give off a casual vibe with a clean tee and leggings, like I just walked out of a yoga class and couldn’t be bothered to shower or change clothes.

I lower to the bed and close my eyes. It’s not supposed to be this hard.

A knock on the door startles me out of my doomspiral. “Be right there!” I call out, yanking on the black cropped sweater and jeans and sliding a pair of dangly beaded earrings into my ears. After one fluff of my curls in the mirror and a quick coating of lip gloss, I hurry to the door.

Hutch hugs a grocery bag with one arm and a bouquet of Louisa’s lupine, poppies, and blue columbine in the other.

“Hi.”

He smiles, his dark green eyes alight with a playful gleam that makes my ovaries vibrate.

Lord help me.

“Hi.” He gives my body an appreciative scan, his smile brightening.

Should I have worn the yoga pants and T-shirt, or would it have mattered? Yesterday I was dressed for barn chores and that didn’t slow him down one bit.

I step back. “Come in.”

He saunters past me, giving me a hit of his citrusy aftershave. The hairs on the back of his head look trimmed, like he got a haircuttoday. He’s wearing a faded pair of fatigues and a forest green henley, the top two buttons undone. It’s snug and loose in all the right ways, reminding me of the toned, muscular body underneath.

He offers me the bouquet. “Picked this afternoon.”

“Louisa’s are always so pretty. I’ve been watching these lupine.” I smile at him. “Thank you.”

He winks. “First harvest is coming up. Then it’ll be wedding season before we know it.”

I carry the flowers into the kitchen and reach for a vase. Hutch sets the grocery bag on the counter and unpacks a clump of freshly picked spinach, garlic, a homemade jar of sun-dried tomatoes, a pint of cream, a round loaf of artisan bread, a giant jar of what I think is broth, a bottle of white wine, and a package of chicken.

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