Page 54 of Not That Complicated

The theory was sound. In practice, I was heavy-handed with the oil, went overboard, and ended up with watering eyes and nose.

It didn’t make me any less stressed. I gave myself a point for trying, though.

I crawled into bed and lay there with the lights on, and I mean all of them, not just the soft and romantic bedside lamp. My heart was racing like I was coming into the final stretch of a marathon.

Could I be allergic to the lavender? Was I going into anaphylactic shock?

No. It was probably the stress of finding another body. And low blood sugar. I hadn’t had a chance to eat or drink anything between the police station and here.

I rolled over and reached for the hotel phone.

This is stupid, I said to myself. This is a terrible idea. He’s going to make everything worse. Don’t do it.

I dialled the front desk.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Good evening,” someone who wasnot Adam said. “How can I help you?”

For some idiot reason I’d assumed that Adam would be there just because I wanted him to be.

“Oh,” I said. “Is…uh. Is Adam there at all? I mean…can I speak to Adam please?”

“Adam’s shift ended about ten minutes ago, sir, but I’d be happy to—ow.”

They cut off with a yelp. In the background, I heard an indignant voice complaining. I didn’t pay any attention. Because in my ear, a familiar voice was saying, “This is Adam. How can I help you?”

My throat creaked. I hung up.

Great.

Good, Ray. Smooth. Everything’s better. Well done.

Three minutes later there was a soft knock at the door. I startled, but recovered quickly. I knew who it was even before I opened the door.

Adam had changed out of his hideous uniform. He was wearing his usual tight jeans and motorcycle boots, and had paired it with a comfortably oversized sweatshirt that readCambridge Universityin blocky white letters against the plain grey. He’d shoved his sleeves up to mid-forearm, showing strong wrists and a few beaded bracelets.

I looked him up and down and got stuck on his thighs. “Are those jeggings?” I said.

He grinned. To my mortification, I actually took a step back. Holy crap. What a smile.

Adam tipped his head a fraction and the raw amusement softened at the edges. “I can’t wear jeggings in public,” he said. “People walk into walls. Fall off bicycles. Traffic piles up. It’s not right.” The smile softened further when I failed to come up with a sassy response. “Am I coming in?” he said.

I reached out, tangled my fingers in the loose, body-warm fabric of his sweatshirt, and tugged nervously.

Somehow I forgot to stop tugging, until he was in my room, he’d kicked the door shut behind him, and our bodies were plastered together. His arms came up and around me and held on.

I pressed my face into his shoulder and clung and clung until the low-level tremble of anxiety that had been sending shockwaves through me for the last ten hours finally faded.

“Come on,” Adam said. The low rumble of his voice dispersed the last vestiges of my anxiety. He nudged me with his hips. “Let’s go.” With one hand at the small of my back and one cupping the nape of my neck, he slowly walked me backward until I hit the bed.

I didn’t know what I expected. I didn’t know why I’d called in the first place. I was mildly surprised—although not displeased—to find myself rolled under the duvet and efficiently tucked in while Adam sat on the edge by my hip and picked up the phone to order food.

“Do not order the steak,” I said with a shudder. “I think I’m going vegetarian.”

Adam tried not to laugh.

“You’re the worst,” I told him as he ordered the pizza. “Maybe not the absolute worst,” I amended when he ordered the chocolate fudge cake and the cheesecake.

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