“You’d like to book a room?”

The phone beside him rang. I flinched and came back to myself abruptly. What the hell was I doing, standing there on the other side of the desk gawking at him? Again?

I’d had a shit day. A really shit day. That was all. My house was filled with strangers. I’d been booted out. Adam was the first familiar face I’d seen since Mrs Hughes.

This bizarre urge I was feeling to ask him to come around and wrap me up in his arms and hug me or some such ridiculous thing was perfectly normal.

Understandable.

Inevitable, even.

Although, I didn’t know if Adam was a hugger? And maybe he’d read more into the simple, innocent request. Maybe he’d think I wanted more. Or he’d hug me, and then he’d tell me to do something in return for him.

I blushed, hard and furious, at the thought of what he might tell me to do, and met Adam’s startled gaze. He’d finished the call and hung up, and was watching me.

“Are you okay?” he said.

“Yes! I’m fine!” I didn’t need a hug, and I absolutely would not give him a blowjob for it in return, either.

“You seem to be having quite the mental journey over there.”

“It’s been a day.”

“I heard.”

“Really?”

“You’re talking about the dead guy under your floorboards, right?”

“How do you know?”

“Small town, Ray. Lots of gossip.”

I clenched my jaw at the thought of people talking about me behind my back. “I didn’t kill him. When you’re gossiping about me next, you can toss that little nugget out if you like.”

“Of course you didn’t kill him.” Adam stood up again and dragged the keyboard toward him. “You couldn’t kill a spider. Now, I’m assuming you’re here because the police turfed you out? How many nights do you want?”

“One, please.”

He paused. “You sure?”

I shrugged. “Start with one. How long can it take to remove the body? He’s already, uh. Packed? In a manner of speaking?” I felt the hideous urge to giggle at my poor choice of words.

Adam tilted his head. “Okay.”

“Wait. I have to work in the morning. I’m going to need the desk. What time’s check out?”

“Ten.”

What were the odds I’d be able to go home before ten? Not good. “I think I’d better book it for two nights.”

“Two nights it is.”

I shifted from one foot to the other. “Aren’t you going to ask me about it?”

“I won’t lie. I’m curious. Do you want to talk about it, though?”

I shuddered. “No.” Preferably never again.