Page 32 of I'm Not in Love (I Promise)

“I can’t with you.” She rolls her eyes and looks away. I still catch the way her cheeks darken for me.

We’re close enough to the house that I can see light pouring through some of the windows. She points to smoke coming from the chimney. “Look.”

“Looks like the good doctors are in.” I pull a hand through my hair. So much for this being a straightforward in and out job. “Let me make a call.”

“I guess I can tell them I stopped by to check on Eth?—”

“No,” I say, looking up from my phone. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Bossy, much?” she mumbles under her breath.

You have no idea.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

BLAKE

I standto the side while he makes a phone call, breathing in the comforting smell of chimney smoke while listening to crickets chirp. Normally, I’d be creeped out being on such a dark street late at night, but for once I’m enjoying it. I guess being near Freddy is weirdly comforting. Man, I need therapy.

“Okay, the docs are about to get a call about an emergency break-in at their office. They’ll have to go down to the station and fill out some paperwork.” I shake my head. Not a bad idea, but I won’t tell him that. The last thing this man needs is a bigger ego.

“What about Ethan?” I ask, realizing my mistake as his eyes darken. “What if?—”

His large body looms over me as he holds my chin in his grip, tilting my face up so I have nowhere else to look but directly into his eyes. “This is your last warning, Blake. Say his name again and you know what happens. I don’t care where we are, or what we’re doing. I’ll choke his name from your throat.”

I’m panting from a mix of fear and arousal. It was one thing when he wore the mask, but now, hearing the dirty things he says… while looking like that… my body can’t help but react.

Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I rephrase. “What if he’s home?”

“Leave everything to me.”

Like clockwork, five minutes later the Porter’s luxury SUV pulls down their driveway and speeds away in the opposite direction. Freddy grins and wraps his hand in mine, something I don’t totally hate, although I won’t admit that to him. We stay in the shadows of the property, skirting around any traces of light.

“You’re almost too good at this,” I whisper. “It’s creepy.”

He lets a low chuckle permeate the air but doesn’t respond. I have no choice but to be pulled along by him, watching him scout the home like a pro. Not a criminal, my butt. I’d bet he robs houses for a living.

Once we’ve done a few passes, he asks, “Do you know where they keep the meds?”

I nod. “Upstairs, but I don’t know if they’re locked up. Sometimes they’d do that to keephimfrom cleaning them out.”

He tips his chin in approval, whether it’s from not slipping and saying Ethan’s name or from knowing where to find the pills, I have no idea.

“I found our best way in through the back door. Once we’re in, you lead the way.” A thrill runs through my veins. I’ve never done anything even remotely bad, never even thought about it. “You’re grinning.”

I force my face into a neutral expression. “Am not.”

“Okay, Blake.” He uses his sarcastic tone. The same one he used when he called me a liar.

We get inside exactly as planned. It took him no more than thirty seconds to pop the lock. If criminal acts impressed me—which they don’t, but if theydid—I’d be impressed. Maybe even a little turned on.

He motions for me to go first, so I move ahead and guide us through the house I’ve visited often, yet always felt like an outsider in.

We cross their family room and go through the open plan kitchen. I listen for any noises but the house is completely silent apart from the click of the heat here and there. Where they had the fire going earlier was now just a pile of ash around a half burned artificial log. Two wine glasses sit on their coffee table, half full, with the bottle beside it. Looks like we interrupted a romantic evening. Oh well.

Freddy’s close enough that I can feel the heat of his body radiating onto my exposed waist. It’s helping my pulse slow to a normal rate as we slowly step up the stairs. We pass an empty guest bedroom and bathroom but I slow as we get to Ethan’s bedroom. There’s bouncing light coming from the crack at the bottom of the door. His TV’s on, I’d guess. I gesture with my finger and mouth, “His room.” Freddy pulls me along.

He’s right, of course. What if Ethan decides at that moment to go get a snack? It’s weird that he’s here to begin with. Whatever happened at the gala must have been serious enough to warrant him sleeping back at home.

---