Page 68 of Guarded Secrets
Though it was good she didn’t object, he felt disappointed she hadn’t expected to share his bed. And why would she expect anything different when he’d made a point that last night had been a one-time thing?
His phone pinged with an incoming text. Welcoming the distraction, he tugged his phone from his pocket.
“It’s from Sawyer and he included you on the text. The prints they’d pulled from your car after your tires were punctured?”
“Yeah?”
“They’re a match to Pamela Demaris.”
“Pam slashed my tires? Why would she do that? This keeps getting more and more bizarre.”
“Good question. Sawyer says he’ll text an update on the case later.” Owen gave her a thoughtful frown. “You and I need to talk. Demaris was connected to Romero, and we need to figure out how.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The next morning, Keeley wandered into the kitchen and found a sticky note from Owen on the refrigerator saying he’d be back soon. She wore boy shorts and a tank top with a fuzzy robe belted over them. Definitely sexier than her sleepy sloth pjs, not that Owen had seen her in them.
Last night he’d said good night and disappeared. Later she’d heard a saw running, and a peek out the window had revealed lights on in the garage. She had the feeling he was taking desperate measures to avoid her. Fine. Whatever. She rubbed her eyes and yawned.
While construction was going on around it, the kitchen was still functional. Owen had brewed a pot of coffee and set two sturdy mugs next to it before he’d left for wherever he’d gone. Thank goodness because the machine looked way too complicated to have to figure it out in the wee hours of the morning. She checked her phone. Okay, maybe not wee hours, but eight a.m. was still early.
She opened the door of the Harvest Gold refrigerator. Contents were sparse and she immediately determined there was no creamer or milk to be found. And there wasn’t much by way of breakfast food.
There were bottles of condiments in the door and lunchmeat in a bin, but no bread. A single apple looked lonely on a shelf next to a half dozen bottles of water. A peek in the cupboards revealed peanut butter and a bag of chili-flavored Fritos. Owen had lunch food for when he worked at the house, but that was it.
She had her phone out and was contemplating texting him when the outside door opened with a gust of fresh air. Owen carried a couple grocery bags in one hand and a white paper bag with the Three Sisters Bakery logo in the other.
Good grief, what was it about this man that made her want to grab that face and kiss him long and hot until they were both breathless?
Sure, he wore faded blue jeans ripped at one knee that fit his butt just right. Scarred work boots and a heavy canvas jacket enhanced the manly-man image. Add in the tousled hair, deep blue eyes that sharpened when he looked at her, and lips she really wanted to kiss, and it was no wonder she was a goner.
He must’ve caught something of where her mind had gone because in a swift motion he set the bags on the floor and moved toward her, grabbing her by the elbows and lifting her until they were eye to eye.
“You look at me like that, princess, and I have a hard time reminding myself why we’re not going there.” Even as he said it, he was backing her up against the wall. Her robe fell open and his gaze raking over her body felt like a line of fire burning her from the inside out.
“I have no idea why we’re not going there. That’s on you,” she murmured. Her hands gripped his unbuttoned jacket and pulled him to her. “Kiss me or I’m going to go crazy.”
He closed his eyes and breathed deep. Even in her caffeine-deprived state she recognized his internal struggle. But then a groan rumbled from deep in his throat and his lips slanted over hers. And consumed her.
His mouth took her deep, his tongue deeper still, her fingers diving into the lush thickness of his hair. His hand cupped her rear through the tiny shorts and pulled her into him until they met, heat to heat. The kiss spun out, gentling as he moved his mouth to nibble on the sensitive skin below her ear.
When he released her, he stepped back and sucked in a lungful of air. “Goddammit, Keeley.” He brought up his hands to bracket herface. “I need to tell you, to explain why I can’t do this. Why we can’t get into a relationship.”
She was going to point out that they certainly were in a relationship of some sort, but the torment in his eyes had her swallowing the words. “Okay,” she managed.
He stepped back and using both hands, jammed his fingers through his hair. His expression held a mountain of pain.
“I was married, and I had a little boy.”
Surprise held her silent even as a dozen questions bounced around her brain.
“They’re dead. I’m responsible for that. I should’ve told you earlier before this whole thing started.”
He snagged the bags from the floor and set them on the counter. Without looking at her, he pulled out a container of creamer and set it next to the coffeemaker.
“You bought creamer. My favorite brand.”
“I pay attention.”
