Page 9 of Falling for a Killer

She looks shocked for a minute, then her body language relaxes. “Sorry. I’m not much of a morning person, especially since the meds haven’t completely worn off yet. I’ll be better after a pot of coffee.”

“You’d think it was you with the gun,” I tease, leaving it on the table when I walk away to show her she can trust me. It’s a gamble I shouldn’t take, but I have a feeling she isn’t going to grab it and try to shoot me.

Hopefully.

I wash my face and brush my teeth before I go back out there and I find her on her tiptoes trying to reach a bowl. The way her tank top slides up her body makes me ache, but it doesn’t distract from the amusement of watching her struggle.

I’m just about to offer to help when she shimmies up onto the counter and grabs it herself, cussing under her breath about cabins made for giants.

“Need help down?” I say teasingly, startling her enough that she slips.

She lands on her feet as that giant bun bounces, but it’s the blush on her cheeks that holds me hostage. “Very funny.”

“That’s me, the funny madman. What are we making today?”

I walk over with every intention of helping, but it seems she’s been awake longer than I thought. There’s a stack of french toast already made and the eggs look just about done.

“The bacon’s on the table already. Syrup and butter are in the fridge still.”

I can’t remember the last time a woman that wasn’t my mom cooked me something. It might have been never, and yet this one has done it twice now. “Thanks. Do you like to cook?”

“I like to live, which means I like to eat. I kind of have to cook to do that. I don’t hate it, but I don’t love it, either. I guess it’s better when it’s not just me.”

“Well it looks good. I’ll do the dishes when we’re done,” I offer, then allow myself to be lured in by the smell of food. “I have to ask. You wouldn’t try to poison me, right?”

“I did come here to become a bog witch, so you never know,” she says a little too seriously. “I guess you’ll have to trust me the same way you’re asking me to trust you with that gun you won’t seem to put away.”

“I don’t have it out because of you if that helps, and what the hell is a bog witch? Is that one of the witches that bake cookies to attract children so they can suck out their youth?”

She opens her mouth twice before she says anything. “No one will come here. I don’t know what you did that makes you so on edge, but I’m sure you noticed this cabin isn’t on any map. You have no connection to my family, you clearly walked here so they can’t trace your car... you covered your tracks.”

“Yeah, I know. I planned this for months. But I also didn’t expect you.”

“No one ever does.” She winks as she plates the eggs, then sits with a sigh. “It’s a little hard for me to be around an angry man with a gun right now. I’m trying to make the best of this... situation, but I haven’t given you a single reason to mistrust me.Please just put it in a drawer or something? You can still get to it if something happens.”

I see it. The pain, the fear in her gorgeous, hazel eyes. Watching her douchebag ex pull the trigger on her fucked her up more than she’ll admit.

“Okay,” I say simply, unable to argue with her after what I’ve already done to her peace. I know how it feels to live in chaos, so the least I can do is bend here. “If someone else pulls up I’ll get it, but I’ll put it away for now. I left it out here when I went to the bathroom and you didn’t grab it, so I think we’ve established we don’t want to harm each other.”

She nods softly, glancing down at her food. “Thanks. I came here to get away from violence, not start more of it.”

“Me too.”

Again, I feel solidarity between us with another thing, and I have to stuff some food into my mouth to keep from spilling all my secrets.

I can never tell her.

It doesn’t matter if the secret is crushing, I’ll find a way to hold it up on my own.

“How old are you?” It seems dumb to ask something like that in a moment like this, but seeing as we’re going to be trapped here a while, I take the opportunity to get to know her better while she’s feeling open. I looked at her family’s information, but I didn’t retain every detail I read. I probably should have looked a little closer at their kids though.

“Thirty.” She makes a face, then shoves a bite of french toast into her mouth and squirms. “You?”

“Thirty-three... as of yesterday.”

Her eyes widen. “Shit. Well, happy belated. Sorry I bullied you on your birthday.”

I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of me. “It’s fine. Only fair seeing as I had a gun. Plus, you fed me, so I think we’re even.”

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