Page 29 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)

He let me walk right out the door.

Didn’t stop me.

Didn’t call my name.

But when I got to his truck, I looked back, he was following me. His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

I could see it in his eyes.

Restraint.

Graham

The ride back wasn’t quiet.

Not in the way most people think.

Maggie sat beside me, stealing glances when she thought I wasn’t looking. Biting her lip like she was fighting the urge to either yell at me or crawl into my lap. I didn’t know which, and I wasn’t about to ask.

The old truck rumbled over every crack in the road, the cab had enough room for another person between us, but every time I shifted gears, I could feel the heat radiating off of her.

She sat quietly beside me, hands twisting in her lap like she was trying not to overthink our afternoon. Crossing one leg over the other, she shifted in her seat. Like maybe she thought putting something besides the pistol between us would help. It didn’t.

Not when she smelled of gunpowder, clean sweat, and that goddamn shampoo.

Not when my hand kept tightening on the steering wheel just to keep me from touching her.

“Don’t sit like that.” I said.

“What?”

“You’d be surprised the kind of damage that can happen should you get in an accident and have your legs crossed. It’s not a pretty picture.”

“Oh.” She uncrossed her legs just as I hit a pothole the size of a small crater, and the truck jolted hard enough to make her grab the door and the dash to steady herself.

“If you hit one more pothole, you’re paying for my chiropractor,” she grumbled.

I smirked, keeping my eyes on the road. “Spines are overrated. I’ll buy you a vibrator instead.”

She coughed, sputtered, and practically hit the passenger window. “Jesus, Graham!”

I shrugged. “What? Thought you liked having options.”

Her cheeks went bright pink, but her mouth twitched like she wanted to be mad. She failed.

Good.

She needed to get used to me getting under her skin.

I eased off the gas a little—only because if I hit another bump she’d make that little gasping sound again and I wasn’t sure if I could keep my dick from talking back.

“The only fractures you should be getting,” I said, my voice still calm, “are from someone fucking you right.”

She didn’t answer right away.

Didn’t have to.

The cab of the truck got too damn small.

Too damn hot.

Then—quiet, sweet as sin—she murmured. “Good thing you’re already practicing your hand placement.”

My hands tightened on the wheel again. Blood slamming south. My whole body locked like it was fighting the steering column itself.

The truck swerved slightly before I corrected.

Every part of me— every fucking part— wanted to slam the brakes, drag her across the seat, and find out if I could still drive with her riding me.

Instead, I shifted in my seat, discreet, adjusting the problem pressing against my jeans, and swallowed hard.

“You handled that Bersa like you’ve been carrying for years.” I said roughly, like I wasn’t two seconds from throwing every ounce of self-control out the window. “I’m proud of you.”

She didn’t call me on it.

Just smiled—sweet and lethal.

I drove.

White-knuckled and cursing the entire fucking way.

She snorted. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to shoot your dick off.”

I smirked. “Nah, if you wanted to shoot me, you would’ve done it already.”

She flushed and turned back toward the window, but I caught the tiny curve at the edge of her mouth.

Good. Let her feel it. Let her stew in it the way I was.

I pulled into her driveway, killed the engine, and let my arm hang loose over the steering wheel.

She didn’t move right away.

Neither did I.

The tension built slowly, until it thickened the air between us. Not the kind you can fix with a joke.

It was the kind you fix by dragging her over the bench seat and tasting the way her mouth dared me without saying a goddamn word.

I jerked my thumb toward her house. “You know the drill. Keep the doors locked. Lights on. Don’t trust anything that looks out of place. Make sure there is an officer waiting by the door of whatever room you are in.”

“You’re not staying?” A crease formed between her brows.

“No.” I looked forward. “I’m on restriction.

Cap said if I came over to do anything more than go over the case with you.

He’d have my ass.” I glanced back at her.

“Once the doc signs off saying I’m good, I’ll be here.

If something comes up—call me. I mean it.

Even if you’re just bored, looking for someone to talk to. ”

She looked at me like someone shot her cat.

“Max, the only reason I’m not locking myself in a room with you and all the ammo I can find right now is because you’ve got twenty agents on your property at any given time. They can’t all be incompetent.”

She gave a brief nod. One hand on the door handle, the other cradling the gun case under her arm, about to dash to the house.

But then she paused. Turned back toward me.

Eyes big, mouth soft, her voice was unsure, but sincere.

“Thanks for today. For everything.” She said with a simple smile.

“I’ll be here if you need me… no matter what time.”

I didn’t say anything else—if I had, we both would’ve been in trouble.

Just gave a two-fingered wave, hands still on the steering wheel, and waited.

I waited for her to reach the porch light.

I waited for the door to click shut behind her.

I should’ve left the second the guard nodded.

I should’ve driven away and pretended none of this mattered.

But I didn’t.

I sat there long after she was gone.

Long after the porch light clicked off.

Watching. Guarding.

Not because it was the job anymore.

Because it was her .

You can know better.

You can do better.

Doesn’t mean you will.

Some mistakes?

You see them coming a mile away.

You pray for them anyway.