Page 37 of Exposé

I dropped the letter onto the table and moved to the bathroom. Picking out a long t-shirt with Tweety Bird plastered from top to bottom, I tossed it onto the counter and dug through my drawer for loose shorts.

Knock. Knock.

"Ava?"

Slamming the drawer closed, I darted out of the bathroom.

Nate stood at the threshold, the door cracked part way as he peered inside.

Flutters hit my chest, my breath catching in my lungs. "Hey," I breathed out. "Come in. Please."

The door widened, and he moved through it, his large hand trapping the edges in his grip.

My teeth bit into my lip as I stared at his tattooed-covered arms, his taut shirt around his biceps, the material loose around the waist.

"Ava?"

I shook my head. "What? Sorry, did you say something?"

His dimples on each cheek deepened. "Are you okay?"

Swallowing hard, I nodded. "Yep." I let loose a forced chortle. "Oh yeah, just stress and all. You know how it is."

"How did this happen?" He gestured towards the door, a frown on his brow.

I stepped over to him. "Um, I'm not sure. I came home, and it was that way." My shoulders bounced as I frowned. "The police said everything was fine, but I needed to get this fixed before I could stay."

"Someone did a number on it."

"Yeah, they must have been disappointed when they got in…there's nothing of value here."

Nate raised a brow. "I don't know about that."

My stomach lifted as though I'd dropped on a rollercoaster, sending my heart into a fluttering mess. "Heh."I braced my hand against the table. "Right."

"Sorry, was that out of line?"

Yes…

"Not at all." I shook my head and avoided eye contact as I snagged my laptop off the couch.

Find a distraction, Ava.

"It won't take me long to finish this up, and then I'll be outta your hair."

My chest tightened as I sat at the table, my lips pressed as I offered a false smile. "I mean, no need to hurry. I'll just get some work done."

"What is it that you do?" Nate bent down beside the door, his tool bag beside him as he fiddled with the remnants of a working handle.

"I'm an investigative journalist."

"Hmm. I've never met one of those before."

"We aren't that interesting and keep to ourselves mostly." I pulled up the LexisNexis website and typed inKane Rogers,then groaned as the abundant search results littered my screen.

"Not good news?"

Nate sat on his heels, his thighs stretching out his black cargo pants as he kneeled, his hands moving over the hole gaping in my door.

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