Page 9

NINE

TINKERBELL

M y eyes opened, only to take in a slate-gray pillowcase.

My pillowcases were white.

I sat up and realized I was in Eric’s bed, in his killer bedroom that was decorated in navy, gray and black with touches of hunter green. I wasn’t under the covers, but a super soft throw was covering me.

And Eric wasn’t there.

I checked his smart home unit on his nightstand and saw it was around my normal waking-up time, ten to eight.

Eric being an early riser (as I categorized anyone who woke up before me) wasn’t a surprise.

Fortunately, he couldn’t vanish like he had before since I was at his house.

Time to find him.

First things first, I got out of bed and hit his bathroom.

After I took care of business and moved to the double basin decked out with a black marble countertop, I saw beside the unused basin a new electric toothbrush head, the toothbrush upstanding beside it, some toothpaste, and last, a tube of cleanser and tub of moisturizer that were a brand so far out of my price range, it wasn’t funny.

There was also a note.

I washed my hands, dried them and nabbed the note.

J-

Sadie forgot to take these after she and Hector stayed with me.

If you need them, I don’t think she’ll mind.

X

I didn’t think that “X” was a riff on a signature.

I thought it was a kiss.

Or I decided I was going to take it as a kiss.

And it was good to know he didn’t have expensive facial products hanging around for all his babes who fell asleep watching movies with him (or other). But instead, this was Sadie’s (by the by, she was a Rock Chick, and Hector was OG Hot Bunch, they lived in Denver).

It was better to know that he knew a girl who slept in her makeup would think it was priority one to get rid of it when she woke up.

Of course, he’d been married.

But it meant he paid attention to the stuff that might seem small to him, but was important to a woman.

The gooey feeling was back, I was still uncertain about it, but my teeth and face were not uncertain about being brushed, cleansed and moisturized.

That accomplished, I wandered down the hall, already seeing him sitting on a stool at his island at the end of it.

Since he was watching me walk to him, and he looked hot wearing blue lounge pants and a gray long-sleeved shirt that hugged his torso in all the right places, I couldn’t tear my eyes from him in order to assuage my curiosity and peruse the abundance of rooms that sat along this hall.

He swiveled my way when I got close, his bare feet resting on a rung, his long legs spread wide.

I decided to take that as an invitation.

Therefore, I walked right between his legs, felt his hands settle on my hips, watched him tip his head back, and he was so damned beautiful, I decided tease time was over.

I finally got my fingers in that thick, soft hair, dropped my mouth to his, and I kissed him.

He opened for me instantly.

Nice.

My tongue swept inside, and I tasted coffee and warmth and man musk.

I tasted Eric.

And as suspected, he was sheer perfection .

I pressed closer and went for more.

When I did, Eric decided to taste me, and he did this by moving his hands to my ass, lifting me up while standing. He then twisted, planting me on his kitchen island.

This was such a smooth move, I was still recovering from it so he was free to angle his head and take over.

And thus commenced him plundering my mouth.

God, he mastered a kiss.

Absolutely… delicious .

And as a first kiss?

Best I ever had.

By far.

No other came close.

Eventually, and regrettably, he broke the snog, and I wasn’t breathing right because of it, but also, he might have lifted his head, though we were still pressed crotch to crotch, chest to chest.

So there was that.

And one could say I very much liked that.

“Good morning,” I wheezed.

His face grew warm, but his lips curved in that wicked, sexy smile, and he kissed me again.

We went at it, but disappointingly, he broke it again.

Such a damned tease.

“Good morning,” he belatedly replied.

Tease or no, starting my day like that, I couldn’t be in a bad mood (in fact, my mood was so good, it could last the rest of the year), so I smiled at him.

His fingers at my hips pressed in.

“Want coffee?” he asked.

“Please.”

“A bagel?”

“Sure.”

“Wanna spend the day together?”

Oh God.

There was no confusing it anymore, no denying.

This amazing man liked me .

And I loved that.

“Yes,” I whispered.

There was a shift to the expression on his face that made my heart skip a beat, because I knew he knew how glad I was we were where we were (finally), and even better, he wasn’t hiding he was just as glad.

He punctuated all of that by running his knuckles gently along my jaw.

No man had ever touched me like that. No person had touched me with that kind of gentleness.

It was the sweetest touch I’d ever felt in my life .

With perfect timing, because all I was feeling for him was suddenly overwhelming, he pulled slightly away and asked, “Great. Do you hike?”

Suddenly, an unfamiliar feeling took hold of me.

Not true. It wasn’t unfamiliar. I’d had it before in other things, but not with guys.

So I knew what it was.

Panic.

Nope.

Sheer panic.

“Jess?” Eric called.

“I don’t hike,” I replied.

“Okay,” he said slowly, studying my face.

“And I, um…” I couldn’t finish that.

“You what?” he prompted.

Shit.

“Well, I don’t read,” I said quickly.

His head quirked in surprise, which made sense, considering I wasn’t making any.

But, for reasons unknown to me, I didn’t stop talking.

“And I don’t cook. I don’t go to the gym or exercise in any formal way. I can shop, but the mood has to strike me, something it doesn’t do very often. I don’t go to concerts or festivals, because people are rude, and they bug the crap out of me, so if there are a lot of people in one place, it bugs the absolute crap out of me. I like to go to movies, but I prefer to watch them at home. I like going out to eat, because I like food, but mostly I do it so I can check out their cocktail menu to keep sharp. I also go to bars, but I’m not a barfly, it’s usually also for professional research. Or to hang with my girls. I like taking photos of stuff, but it’s not like I think I’m some great master. I just see things that interest me, and I want to get an angle on them and leech the color to black and white because I think the subtlety of that, the shadows and light, is more interesting.”

I took in a massive breath and finished my litany.

“Mostly, when I have time off, and don’t have plans with the girls, I clean my house, pay my bills and hang in front of the TV.”

“Okay,” he repeated slowly.

I was talking slowly too when I admitted, “In other words, I just figured out, I’m kinda… boring .”

For a beat he looked utterly stunned.

Then he busted out laughing.

I was plastered to his front, his face shoved in the side of my neck, still laughing, when I asked, “You think me being boring is funny?”

He raised his head to look down at me. “You think you’re boring?”

“I spend most of my free time watching TV.”

“So do the vast majority of Americans.”

“You’re a former FBI agent and current badass private investigator. You make pizza dough from scratch and top it with figs and shit, not pepperoni. Your first thought on what to do to spend the day together is hike. No shade on hikers, and I’d probably get some good photos along the way, but huffing and puffing my way up Camelback Mountain, getting sweaty and gross, is not exciting to me.”

“So we won’t hike.”

“Okay. But so far, mostly what we do when we’re together is watch TV and talk deep shit about our lives, and make no mistake, I love learning about you. But I think we could both use a break from deep shit.”

His was smirking sexily when he said, “Agreed.”

“And I’m not sure I’m up for a day of watching more movies.”

“Same. Do you travel?”

“Sorry?”

“We could take a day trip to Prescott or Sedona.”

I relaxed.

Maybe I wasn’t totally boring.

“I love Prescott and Sedona,” I told him.

“Then I’ll make you coffee and a bagel and get dressed while you chill with some breakfast. I’ll take you to your place so you can get ready. And we’ll head out. Is that a plan?”

“It’s a total plan.”

He tipped his head to the side. “So, do you travel?”

I nodded eagerly. “It’s not like I head out and discover Arizona every weekend, and I wish Bisbee wasn’t too far away. That’s definitely an overnighter trip, but if you haven’t been there, you have to go. Though, I hit Sedona to peace out or Prescott to chill out. They’ve got totally different vibes, but they’re both awesome.”

“Right, babe, but do you travel ?”

His stress on the word “travel” had me tensing again.

“I’m not exactly financially in a position to jet to Paris,” I noted.

“Do you want to jet to Paris?” he asked.

There were a lot of things in life I wanted that I’d learned a long time ago I couldn’t have.

As such, this was threatening to get us into deep territory, so I answered, “I never really thought about it.”

“Paris is the first thing you mentioned when you talked about traveling,” he noted.

Oh shit.

“Honey,”—his hands gave me a squeeze—“we’re real. We share. That’s the deal. You don’t have to bare all. If you don’t feel like talking about this because it leads you to a place you don’t want to be right now, we won’t. But just tell me that. Don’t hide from me. Yeah?”

“I’ve never really had the money to go far, but I’ve been to Anaheim, four times. And Orlando, twice,” I blurted.

He blinked.

Oh God.

He liked me.

I liked him.

I wanted this.

I wanted him.

His ex might be an issue, but…whatever.

He wouldn’t even let me stretch to get my own wineglass.

And he wouldn’t let me be alone in my gloom.

I had to give it to him.

If this worked, he’d find out eventually.

So I squared my shoulders and informed him, “Eric, I’m a Disney chick.”

He blinked again.

And then a repeat of him busting out laughing.

I shoved at his chest in affront.

He rocked back maybe half an inch before I was plastered to him again with his face in my neck.

“Holy fuck,” he said there, still laughing, and his next vibrated with it, “Disney.”

“A lot of people like Disney,” I defended. “There are millions of us.”

He pulled his face out of my neck to look down at me. “There are big crowds at those amusement parks.”

I didn’t meet his eyes. “It’s impossible to get pissed at rude people in one of the Magic Kingdoms. That’s the magic part of the kingdom. Among other magic they offer there.”

He chuckled. Loudly.

I huffed.

He framed my face in his hands and whispered, “I honestly didn’t think you could be cute. But you are. Adorable.”

“I hate to rain on your cuteness parade, but the go-to for neglectful parents is to park their children in front of kids’ movies, and some of my only good memories growing up were watching The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast and Mulan .”

That wiped the amusement off his face, and… damn .

I wished I’d kept my mouth shut.

“Honey,” he murmured.

“Jeff loved Robin Hood . My favorite was Peter Pan .”

He wrapped his hands warmly around the sides of my neck. “That tracks.”

Jeff: right wrongs and be a hero.

Check.

Me: escape to a magical world that didn’t have adults.

Check again.

“I feel like I’ve bummed you out, and I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

“Jessie, sweetheart, don’t be. The reason why you dig Disney sucks, but that’s part of why Walt built what he did. So all kids, no matter what kind of lives they had, could have some joy. And you needing to turn to that to find joy doesn’t make it any less adorable you still dig it enough to get your Disney on.”

I said nothing, but what he said made me calm down.

Though, I could tell I wouldn’t like what came next when the teasing light hit his black eyes.

“Do you have ears?”

I looked over his shoulder.

“Fucking hell.” His words were vibrating with amusement again. “What kind?”

I crossed my arms on my chest and muttered, “Not telling.”

He stroked my jaw with his thumbs, urging, “Jessie.”

Ugh.

I looked at him. “Ursula, Maleficent, and I bought some Tinkerbell ones off Etsy. Okay? Happy?”

He sounded like he was choking when he asked, “Tinkerbell?”

It was verbal when I grunted, “Ugh!”

I pushed him again, but he didn’t sway this time.

Nope.

Not an inch.

He kissed me again.

So obviously, I got over my tiff real quick.

When he lifted his head, he swept his thumb along my lower lip and whispered, “That’s why Paris came to mind.”

He was correct.

I’d done Disneyland. I’d done Disneyworld, Animal Kingdom and Epcot.

I had not done Euro Disney.

“Bucket list,” I whispered back.

His eyes warmed so much, the look he was giving me was downright tender.

I was trying to cope with the beauty of that when he gave me more beauty and brushed his lips against mine.

After that, he moved away and pulled me off the counter to set me on my feet.

“Grab a seat, babe. I’ll get you set up then go take a shower.”

I slid onto the stool he vacated and saw he’d been reading the paper.

An actual newspaper.

“You read an actual newspaper?” I asked, looking to him at his Nespresso machine.

“Only the Sunday edition. It’s a tradition.”

My gaze wandered back to the paper.

I knew there was more to it, but I’d just survived confessing my Disney side. I wasn’t sure I could take him sharing the only time he spent with his ex was when they shared the Sunday paper (or something).

“Being in the FBI is no joke.”

I focused on him. He’d moved to the island and was leaning into his forearms across from me.

“Working for Mace was no joke either,” he continued. “The same with my current position. And I do workout. I hike. I like to be outside. I have a housecleaner, but I take care of my own yard. I’m a busy guy. I learned early in my FBI days that whatever shit I’d face on the job that I couldn’t work out when I trained my body, I could let go if I made Sunday mornings with coffee, a bagel and the paper sacrosanct. I could catch up on the news. Read the comics. Check out the sports section. Do my best with the crossword. And just be.”

“That’s pretty cool,” I said.

He pushed up and gestured to the paper. “Help yourself. I got my fix.”

“Thanks,” I replied.

He did my coffee, spread the perfect amount of shmear on my bagel, and kissed the side of my head before he muttered, “I won’t be long.”

I lifted my cup at him as I turned the page on the New York Times .

Yeah, he got The Times .

Even his Sunday paper was classy.

I heard the shower go on from afar, right before I heard a vibrating noise coming from my cross body that was sitting on the island not far from me.

Getting a text was good. It took my mind off Eric in the shower.

Eric, naked and wet in the shower.

Eric, naked, wet, and in the shower just down a long-ass hall from me.

I might not exercise, but I bet I could sprint down that hall. I might be winded at the end of it, but I had a feeling once I got there Eric would be up for doing all the work.

Pushing these lovely thoughts aside (with no small amount of difficulty), I set my mug down, reached for my bag, pulled my phone out, engaged the screen, and stared in shock at the number of texts I had.

Three from Luna. Two from Raye. Two from Harlow.

And five from Katelyn as well as a voicemail from her.

I didn’t know where to begin, since I was freaking out about what all this could be because it had to be about Jeff.

I started with the voicemail.

Katelyn said, “Hey, Jess. Joshua said you came by yesterday asking about Jeff and I cannot believe he didn’t tell you what’s going on. First, Jeff’s okay. Second, we got him back on his meds. The rest, it’s too much for a voicemail. Call me .”

I then went to her text string and saw the following:

First: Joshua is in sooooo muuuuuch trouble!

Second: Jeff’s fine. He’s been in touch. We’ve seen him. We got him back on track.

Third: I still cannot believe my husband didn’t tell you your brother is okay.

Fourth: There’s more you need to know .

Fifth: Screw it, I’m calling you .

I then went to Luna’s text string.

First: How’d the date go?

Second: OMG, bitch! Arthur emailed.

Third: Call me!!!!!

I hit up Harlow and Raye’s texts, and they both started with asking about the date, and ended with demanding I call Luna.

I called Luna.

She answered with, “Oh my God. Thank fuck. Your car’s not in its spot, even so, I’ve gone to hammer on your door five times. Are you still at Eric’s?”

“Yes. What did Arthur say?”

“Wow. You’re still at Eric’s?”

I loved her, but…

“Yes! Luna, tell me what Arthur said.”

She shook off her nosiness and stated, “We need a confab. Like…immediately.”

“Just tell me what he said.”

“Honestly, Jess, you need to come home. This needs to be face-to-face.”

It felt like my throat closed so I had to shove out, “I’ll be home in a few.”

“Come to mine. See you then.”

We hung up, and I raced down the hall, into Eric’s room and then his bathroom.

It hadn’t occurred to me I should give him a head’s up I was coming in. At that juncture, nothing was occurring to me, except getting home and hearing what Arthur had to say then connecting with Katelyn.

But a lot occurred to me when I saw Eric in nothing but a dark gray towel, leaning over his sink, shaving.

His eyes came to me.

My eyes went to his chest.

Holy, mother of?—

“Jessie, what is it?” he asked.

I tore my eyes from his ridiculously gorgeous, perfectly hairy chest and said, “First, remember when I told you over pizza last night that I thought one of Jeff’s friends knew something about Jeff?”

Some shave cream still on his face (hot), he straightened to me and nodded.

“Well, Joshua’s wife called and texted. I was right. Jeff’s been in touch. And whatever else they have to tell me, she said was too much for voicemail, so I have to call.”

“Did you call?”

I was swaying side to side on my feet, anxious on the whole, mostly anxious to get to Luna.

“No, because Luna left a text saying Arthur had been in contact, and so I called her, and she said whatever Arthur had to say I had to hear face to face.”

“Arthur?”

“He’s our Charlie.”

“Charlie?”

I was losing it, so my voice pitched high when I explained, “As in…Angels.”

“Right,” he murmured.

“I’ve gotta go.”

“Hang tight, I’m driving you.”

“Eric—”

He moved to me, caught me behind my neck, pulled me to his bare chest (oh my God, why did this happen when I didn’t have either the time or headspace to enjoy it?), and said, “You’re in a state. You’re not driving in this state. I’ll be five minutes, tops. Swear. Go get your shoes on.”

I nodded.

He touched his mouth to mine, swiped off the lather he left there, then let me go and went back to the sink.

I hustled down his long-ass hall to my shoes, and I was standing in them with my bag across my body when I discovered Eric didn’t lie.

In less than five minutes, he was walking down the hall toward me.

His hair was wet, but curling. His face was shaved. And he had on a faded Foo Fighter tee, equally faded jeans and running shoes, and he didn’t waste any time grabbing my hand and tugging me to the door to the garage.

He led me to the passenger side of his humongous, spiffy blue Tahoe and spotted me getting up.

He slammed my door, crossed the hood, angled in and hit the garage door opener.

It took some maneuvering, but he skirted my Mini as he backed out.

And we were on our way.