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“Volunteer?” I repeated. “As in you don’t get paid?”
Elliot snatched his shirt, putting it on with the same urgency as before. Not exactly a panicked hurry, but he was definitely hustling.
“That’s the idea of being a volunteer.”
I inspected my nails now that he was putting a shirt on and the good stuff was no longer on display. And to distract myself from thinking about how the good stuff was really his twinkling eyes, the upturn of his lips, and the rogue curl that always fell over his eyebrows.
“Cannot imagine volunteering my time to do any kind of job. Let alone ones where you risk your life,” I muttered, picking at my cuticles.
“Just doing my part for the citizens of our little inlet.” He leaned down to give me a quick but hard kiss on the mouth, lingering inches from my lips after. “Didn’t miss the part where you called yourself my girlfriend.”
I screwed up my face. “I did no such thing. I’m not a junior in high school. I’m no one’sgirlfriend.”
Elliot straightened and shook his head. “You’re not anyone’s. You’re mine.”
Suddenly, all the soft teasing was gone from his face, and all I saw was possessiveness. Intensity.
He continued looking that way as he walked out the door.
As I had expected, I had not been able to go back to sleep. Not after the jarring wakeup, not with all the pressing work emails, not without a distraction in the form of morning sex. The bed was cold without Elliot, the house much too empty and quiet. I’d elected to take that ungodly workout class that started beforeIwas even willing to get up. I decided to be one of the psychopaths who got up at 5:00 in the morning for a gym class. Maybe I’d make some like-minded friends.
Once I was dressed in my workout clothes and signed up for a class, I had enough time to return emails, make tea. Elliot gotme into it. Told me about cortisol spikes and drinking coffee on an empty stomach.
It was thirty minutes after Elliot left when a shadow appeared in the corner of my eye.
My heart rate spiked, though I kept outwardly calm, trying to think of where the closest weapon might be. I eyed the knife rack to my right, moving imperceptibly closer with forced casualty.
“You don’t need to welcome me with an attempted stabbing.” Jasper’s tone was deep, casual, chilling.
Despite the familiarity of his voice, my heart rate did not calm. I turned to face him, standing where he’d let himself in by the sliding door that led to the beach. It had been locked. I checked every night. Then Elliot checked it since the shooter from weeks ago still hadn’t been caught.
“Most civilized people knock.” I had to force casualness into my voice.
“I’m not civilized.”
I braced my hands on the counter, thrumming my fingers against the cool marble. “Be it as it may, I’ll have to insist that you do if you choose to visit again,” I told him sharply. “Which I’d caution against, since I don’t think we have any reason to speak to each other.” I paused, eyeing him. “Unless you’ve come to kill me.” My tone didn’t change. But I was joking. Wasn’t I?
Jasper didn’t smile.
“I’m not here to kill you.”
The statement wasn’t reassuring, but I believed him. Jasper was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar.
“Well, as much as I’m happy to hear that I’ll be living another day, you can’t just turn up here unannounced anymore.”
I thought of how close his arrival was to Elliot’s departure. Had they passed each other on the road? Elliot was racing off to save lives, and Jasper was what? Coming from yet another murder he’d use to drag me back into the shadows?
“Because of him?” Jasper’s tone didn’t change, but I saw his pinky finger twitch. His tell.
My heart stopped completely before it stuttered back to life. I forced my hand to circle around the kettle that had long boiled, pouring the steaming liquid into my tea cup.
“The man who has you drinking tea.” Jasper watched, attention rapt.
“It’s not cyanide.” I rolled my eyes.
“It’s not you,” he challenged.
My body warmed, my temper boiling like the water in the kettle. “You don’t know me anymore, Jasper,” I said in a whisper.