Page 35 of Reclaimed

“Hey.” I gently touch her shoulder, and her head whips to me. “You fell asleep.”

She squeezes her eyes closed and pushes disorderly strands of hair off her face. “Sorry. It’s been a long week.”

“Bad dream?”

She closes her eyes heavily and shakes her head. “I don’t remember what I was dreaming about.”

“Let’s get you inside.”

Exiting the car heightens my focus again as I scan the darkened street. She really needs to contact someone about the lack of streetlights all the way out here. Even if there wasn’t a serial killer on our minds, this can’t be safe for anyone walking around after dark.

I retrieve her duffel bag and follow her up the old, wooden stairs.

“We should make you a key.” She shoves open the door and drops hers on the rectangular entry table.

“I’ll take care of it first thing tomorrow.”

“Good. I want to sleep in.” She toes off her sneakers and leaves them by the door.

I lean a shoulder against the corner of the wall and cross my arms as she wobbles her way across the room. I can’t fight my smile as she plops herself onto her couch and buries her face in the soft blanket she keeps on the back.

“I thought that was my bed.”

“Just five minutes,” she groans.

“Take as long as you want.” I start removing my shoes as Chevy jumps into her lap. Without moving the rest of her body, her arm darts out to pet my cat. He snuggles in close, giving me the direct feeling that I’ve been replaced.

I drag the blanket off the back without disturbing her position and tuck it loosely around her body.

“What do you need?”

“Sustenance,” she mumbles. “Don’t worry. I can get it.”

“Don’t you dare move.” My rumbled command halts her movements. “Let me feel like I’m good for something around here.”

“Fine.” She follows the word with a good-natured huff.

“What do you like to eat after work?”

“I have taco salad prepped. And a sparkling water, please.”

Sure enough, the right side of the fridge is stacked with containers. I’m not sure how I didn’t notice.

I set the items down on the coffee table. “When did you have time to make all this?”

“When you were working.” Isla sits up and pushes her hair out of her face. Even with the tired purple rims beneath her eyes, I’m not sure she’s ever looked more beautiful.

That explains why I didn’t notice. I’ve been taking my calls at my place so that I didn’t have to move my equipment. We agreed that unless the threat moved closer, we’d be okay to be apart during the day. I’m only a phone call and six-minute drive away.

I guess when I saw the containers I just assumed they were leftovers and not my business.

“It’s really smart. I’m sorry for all of this.”

She pauses with the lid in her hand. “For what?”

“You really have a good thing going. You’re independent and organized. I’m sorry I’m intruding on what seems like a really nice, quiet life.”

“Yeah, well…” she crushes a handful of tortilla chips on the top of her meal. “Sometimes I crave a bit of chaos.”

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