Page 43 of Dark Secrets

When he finally pulled into the parking lot, his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Her car was still parked in its usual space. So she hadn’t left. At least not yet. Stopping by his office on his way to the stairs, he grabbed the stack of paperwork he really needed to finish and tucked it under his arm.

He’d been considering hiring someone to do all this paper pushing bullshit. He’d stubbornly wanted to learn how to do it himself just to say he knew how, but he really hated it. Had from the very first moment. Tonight, however, it would be a welcome distraction in case the worst happened.

The upper door was locked, as it always was since she’d moved in, and he deftly unlocked it in the pitch black. Almost all the lights were on, and he wondered if Delaney did that to chase away the gloom of the day or because she was alone—or both.

He turned a few off on his way to the stairs, wanting to change after trading punches and fixing elbows and stances for most of the afternoon. When he neared the base of the stairs, he heard the music for the first time.

It wasn’t a song he recognized; he didn’t listen to much blues, but that wasn’t what struck him. It was her voice. The clear alto rang out over whoever was singing on the track. She knew all the words, and she knew them well. And fuck. It was the most amazing thing he’d ever heard.

Not wanting her to stop but not wanting to scare her either, he made as much noise as he could on the stairs. He knew the minute she registered his presence because she stopped singing and turned the volume down.

When he crested the stairs, she surprised him again. She was playing pool by herself. Balls spread out on the felted tabletop, cue in hand as she slipped her phone into her back pocket.

“Hi. I hope it’s okay that I… Hi,” Delaney amended when he raised a brow, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“I didn’t know you could play. I would have challenged you to a game days ago.”

She smiled, a full genuine smile, and it erased a little more of that line he was trying so hard to keep in place. “I worked at a bar once before. When it was slow, we were allowed to play pool. Since it was in the middle of nowhere, it was slow a lot. I had a lot of time to practice.” She hesitated. “Want to play?”

“Yeah. Rack them up, and I’ll get changed real fast.”

He heard the click of balls as he disappeared around the corner and into his bedroom. Locking the door behind him, he crossed to the closet and shoved all his clothes to the side, pushing against the flat surface of the wall until it depressed and slid away. He keyed in the number for the safe and pressed his finger to the biometric scanner.

When it opened with a whirring click, he lifted his gun and holster out of the waistband of his jeans and set them inside. Closing the safe and then the hidden door, he shuffled his clothes back into place and pulled on a fresh shirt.

Shit like this was exactly why he should keep his distance from her, not pull her closer. Problem was, he didn’t seem to be able to help himself.

ChapterNineteen

Delaney reset the balls with the triangular frame. Asking James to play pool had been an impulse, but she was grateful for the buffer. She still needed to tell him her final decision, and she’d do it better, gauge his reaction better, if her hands were busy.

She heard him coming down the hall and hung the frame on a peg on the wall. The black t-shirt he’d changed into exposed the bottom of a tattoo on the inside of his left bicep, and her fingers itched to explore it.

She loved tattoos. The artistry and the permanence of inking something important to you onto your skin. She had a small tattoo on her hip she’d gotten in college. After being forced to cover it up with makeup for so many years, she was afraid she’d grow to hate it. In the end, the tattoo and its memory had helped her escape.

“House shoots first?”

James shook his head as he dusted the tip of his cue. “Ladies first.”

Moving around to the head of the table, Delaney placed the cue ball and considered her shot. “Should we make a wager?”

“Loser makes dinner?” He raised a brow when she grinned. “Unless you can’t cook, in which case I’ve got ten bucks.”

She laughed. “It’s been a while, but I can cook. Dinner it is.”

Bending at the waist, she lined up her shot and sent the white ball careening into the colorful triangle. She loved the heavy cracks as the balls crashed into each other and zigzagged around the table. She sank one stripe and two solids and quickly glanced up at his face to check his mood. He was smiling.

“Woman. You could have fleeced me for cash.”

Delaney laughed and circled the table to find her next shot. “But you’re a surprisingly good cook, so this works out for me too.”

She felt his eyes on her as she bent and sent the yellow ball into the corner pocket. This was going to be fun. She’d forgotten what it was like to have actual fun with a man without spending the entire night wondering what casual comment or gesture he might be upset about later.

She missed her next shot, the red ball ricocheting off the side pocket and bouncing off the opposite edge. She straightened, leaning against her pool cue. James bent over the table to line up his blue striped ball to the far corner, and his smooth shot was at odds with the electricity that sizzled through her when he spoke.

“I like knowing you’ll still be here at dinnertime.”

She barely registered his ball finding its pocket because she couldn’t take her eyes off him. There was something utterly mesmerizing about his light blue eyes and dark brown hair, the permanent shadow of stubble on his jaw. She’d allowed herself to wonder more than once what that stubble would feel like as it trailed across her skin.

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