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I tilted my head, debating my answer. “Back then, did I mention I have five sisters?”

And just like that, her vulnerability, the weight of our conversation, lifted. A wide grin spread across her petite face, bunching her cheeks and making those hazel eyes squint.

“No, I don’t think you mentioned that. I would’ve remembered. That makes so much sense. You were trained.” That smile of hers shone so brightly, and the joy was fucking infectious. “So, because of insider intel, you understand a woman’s thought process.”

I shook my head, a few still-damp locks of hair dropping against my forehead. “Um, fuck no. No man can claim that—or a woman, for that matter. It’s always changing, and if I learned anything living with my sisters and being raised by a single mom, it was to hold on tight because the emotional roller coaster is one hell of a ride. Oh, and if you’re ever asked how an outfit makes them look, do not hesitate in saying it’s perfect, but maybe different shoes.”

Head tipped back, mouth open, she laughed out loud, the sound making my heart thunder in my chest. What would it be like to hear that laugh every day, to know I was the one making her so damn happy that tears welled in her lower lids?

“What?” she said, still laughing. “Why shoes?”

“Simple answer. Because it shows you actually looked at the outfit, not just responding with a rehearsed answer, and shoes seem to be the only article of clothing that doesn’t elicit an emotional reaction.”

Rain’s smile was so wide I could almost see all her straight, white teeth. “Meaning?”

“If I said to try different pants, then they thought the pants fit terrible and would never, ever wear them again. Tops? Fuck no.” I faked an exaggerate grimace. “My sister once smacked me upside the head because she thought I was commenting on the way she didn’t fill out the shirt. I’ve tried suggesting different accessories, but they saw through that because I don’t know shit about pairing belts and bags together. So, shoes. Proves I’m engaged without offending any part of the outfit they pieced together.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met, Jameson.”

“And that’s a good thing?”Please say yes.

“It’s a relief,” she said, pushing her plate away and leaning both forearms onto the counter. “And I agree with your assessment of holding on tight during the emotional roller coaster. I took a few trips on one today, hence the headache I had earlier.”

“The case?” I hedged.

“No. Well, kind of. It’s all kind of mixed together.” She shot me an odd look out of the corner of her eye. “It’s complicated.”

I hummed a noncommittal response. “Well, I’m here if you want to talk about it. I’m sure we could uncomplicate it together.”

Or make it more complicated by me telling her I wanted to see where this connection between us could go while I’m in Santa Coasta.

Both finished with our meals, we cleaned up the kitchen, chatting about various things but steering clear of the heavier topics from earlier. Drying the last plate, I put it back in the cabinet she’d pulled it from and turned, leaning my ass against the edge of the counter.

“Hate to do this, but I have some work I need to get caught up on.”

“The exciting life of a profiler,” she joked.

“Exactly.” I waited a beat to see if she wanted to use this chance to make a quick escape upstairs. When she stayed by my side, finishing her beer, I took the opportunity. “Want to keep me company?”

It sounded like an innocent question, but it wasn’t. The idea of her disappearing into her room, shutting herself away until tomorrow, didn’t sit well. I wanted more time with her, even if it was me working and her simply in the room with me.

It was dumb and way too soon for her to have this kind of pull over me, but I couldn’t help it.

Every part of me wanted Rain.

Any way I could get her.

* * *

Thirty minutesinto the crime documentary she had started on the TV, my laptop had timed out from inactivity, my entire focus on the sleeping Rain lying on the couch beside me, softly snoring. Head draped off the cushion, arm twisted, and torso contorted, there was no way she was comfortable, but it had only taken her a few minutes to nod off, so maybe this was how she slept every night.

Careful to not disturb the sleeping beauty, I softly shut the laptop and laid it on the glass coffee table. While a witness’s voice poured through the TV speakers, I took in every inch of bare skin exposed beneath the cream knit blanket she’d tugged off the back of the couch when she first lay down.

It did funny things inside me when she snuggled down on the couch, shooting me a sheepish smile before flicking on the TV. I didn’t take this moment lightly. She trusted me, leaving herself vulnerable, and invited me into her comfort zone.

After everything she’d seen in her job and life with that asshole, she trusted me, a basic stranger, enough to fall asleep beside me.

Sure, it could’ve been from sheer exhaustion, but I told myself it was because she knew deep in her soul that she was safe with me. Despite my best effort, my hand slid forward, erasing the small gap between me and her bare feet. Without touching her soft fair skin, I traced the lines of her muscular calves, stopping at her knee, knowing that was too close to where I desperately wanted to explore.

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