Page 45 of The Harborer
Her dark eyebrows flew up her forehead. “To y-your apartment?” she stammered.
Yeah, he couldn’t fault her for her reaction. He was a little floored by his proposal himself. It didn’t escape him that she’d interpret the offer as a come-on, a way to continue the kiss and take it to the next level … and the next … and the next.
“It’s better than sleeping in the sheriff’s office,” he quipped. Once more going for casual, he shrugged. More like jerked his shoulder, popping it.
Those beautiful eyes of hers grew wide once more. “As in thejail?”
“No, you don’t want to sleep in the jail either. Hard beds.” What the actual fuck was wrong with him? “And I’m guessing the Grand Majestic is at capacity with tourists.”
The truth was hecouldhave suggested a spare bed in one of the Hunnicutt homes, and any of them would have welcomed her, no questions asked. But Amy faced two threats: a mad-as-hell Micky and someone who was sneaking in and out of her store. Maybe they were one and the same, and maybe not. No one, not even the brothers, could protect her as well as he could.
“Or,” he drawled, “I could sleep on your couch, if that makes you feel safer.”
“But I don’thavea couch,” she spluttered. “I don’t even have a real bed yet.”
“That’s even more reason to stay at my place. At least I have a bed.” What he didn’t tell her was it was theonlybed. And he didn’t own any other furniture that could substitute as one.
He never got the chance because in the next breath, she accepted his offer. “I would really appreciate that.” Her relief was palpable, as though he could reach out and stroke it, and it was visible in the way her posture relaxed and her eyes shone with gratitude.
Shit!He was so screwed.
Chapter 16
Bad Ideas Come in Threes
Of all the stupid,supremely dangerous ideas, this ranked right up there with the worst brainwaves to ever cross Shane’s mind—even the ones dating back to two-year-old Shane, who had been clueless as to what the hell the word “idea” meant.
Spending time alone with Amy … in his studio apartment? Yeah, no. Especially not after that epic kiss. He was about to be brutally reminded of things he wanted but couldn’t have. But it was too late now. Not with the way she was looking at him, her eyes like nighttime seas shimmering with sparkles, as if he was some kind of goddamn hero. Truth be told, helikedthat gleam in her eyes. Too much.
“Are you sure about this?” she ventured from where she stood in her living room, an overnight bag at her feet that he picked up as if on autopilot.Yeah, I’m sure … that this is a massive mistake. “You’ve done so much already. I hate the idea of putting you out.”
“You’re not putting me out, and if I thought you were, I wouldn’t have asked. Besides, you’ve got Dewey’s chili, and I’m hungry.” He waggled his eyebrows, hoping to put a crack in some of the awkward tension between them.
Tapping the container in her grip, she beamed him one of those dazzling smiles he lived for, and he was a goner. No turning back.
For some reason, he hadn’t been able to stop himself asking her to come stay … and in this moment, even though his saner self was yapping at him to turn this train around, he didn’t give a goddamn. Continued not giving a goddamn until they stood in front of his apartment door. Now would be the right time to tell her about the sleeping situation. Hell, twenty minutes ago would have been the right time.Any timebefore he’d spewed the invite would have been the right time.
Balancing a load that included bags of groceries Amy had packed from her place, he drew in a lung full of air and unlocked his door. Pushed it open. Trapped that breath while he took in the place. Whooshed it out silently, relieved that the interior didn’t look like a bomb had gone off. He’d been restless before bed last night, and he’d picked up to bleed off some of his nervous energy. He’d even changed his sheets. Deep down he might have had a premonition she would be here. Either way, he silently thanked yesterday’s Shane.
“This is it,” he announced grandly as he held the door for her.
“Oh! It’s … small.”
“Less to clean that way.” He closed the door behind him. “Let me show you around.”
Seriously? There’s nothing to show, you dumbass.
“That’s the kitchen and dining room.” He pointed to an alcove with a fridge, a few cabinets, and a counter barely wide enough to hold a toaster oven, a microwave and a hot plate. Beside it stood a high-top with three matching chairs. “That doorover there leads to the bathroom. And this”—he gestured around himself—“is the living room.”
Her head swiveled—and swiveled again. “Where’s the bedroom?”
He pointed at the couch. “Right there. It’s a foldout.” Now her head whipped toward him, the obvious questions streaming through her obsidian eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll take the recliner.” It was a humongous, overstuffed thing, comfy enough for watching his big-screen TV and nodding off while doing so. Whether it was comfy enough for a full night’s worth of snoozing, he would soon find out.
She let out a tiny gasp. “Oh, no. You should have said something.” He didn’t disagree. “I couldn’t do that to you.”
“I saw how you relaxed the moment you knew you had somewhere else to stay. Has that changed?”
She ignored the question. “I said I didn’t want to put you out.”
