Straight Flushed (Hot Pursuit #1)(24)

He stood from the bed then leaned forward and reached for my hands. He pulled me up, and I stood eye level to his chest with the backs of my legs resting against the bedspread. He kissed my forehead. “Come on. I’ll show you to the bathroom. You can you use this one and I’ll go use the other. Meet you right back here.” In the dim light, I saw him smiling.

“Okay.” I grinned, looking up at him.

I was going to stay the night, something I hadn’t considered. Sure, I’d just done what I’d done, but the intimacy of sleeping next to someone was different. Gabe would make these sounds before he drifted off—a small grunt followed by a deep breath pushed through his lips. I wondered what sounds Stephen might make and if I would find the same comfort in them.

I headed into the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. I didn’t recognize the girl looking back at me. My hair was a bushy mess, and I smoothed it back with my fingers. A couple of minutes later when I came out, the covers had been folded back, and I found Stephen waiting for me in bed. I slipped between the cool sheets and rested my head against his chest. I fought the pain pulling my heart as he stroked my back. My eyes grew heavy and sleep coaxed me with its long, wispy, white fingers before Stephen could make a sound.



. . .



The brightness of the morning filtered in through the cracks of the blinds gently brushing away the cobwebs of sleep. I rolled over on my back, bathed in warmth. I blinked and rubbed my eyes. I looked over to see if Stephen was sleeping, but he was already up. I was glad I’d avoided the awkward moment of the morning after. I glanced at the clock. It was after ten, and I immediately shot up—I never slept that late and an odd feeling of guilt hit me. Normally, I would have already gone for a run and had breakfast. I should have been seated on a chair at the shore. Then I lay back on the bed and chuckled. I was being ridiculous. I was on vacation and there were no rules or schedules.

I tossed the covers aside and went to the bathroom. I flipped on the light and something struck me as odd. The room was empty—completely empty. There wasn’t a toothbrush, a razor, or a bar of soap. Nothing, not even a stray hair. Stephen’s things must have been in the other bathroom. I rinsed my mouth from the sink and splashed water on my face. I worked my fingers through my hair as best I could and tucked it behind my ears then went in search of my clothes.

My underwear and dress were still in a crumpled heap on the floor at the side of the bed where they’d been removed. I slipped everything back on, attempting to flatten the wrinkles from the fabric, and walked out into the living area.

“Hello?” I called into the quiet, my voice echoing ominously off the walls. I looked through the glass doors to see if Stephen was sitting outside, waiting for me with a cup of coffee, but he wasn’t there. “Stephen?” I called again, but I was answered only with more silence. Maybe he went to get us breakfast. I opened the front door and peered out to the driveway. His car was gone. I went back inside and walked through the whole place room by room. There was no sign of him. No shoes. No clothes. Just more nothing. A sinking pit developed in my stomach. I went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There wasn’t a jug of milk, a bottle of beer, not a stick of butter. The same towel I’d seen the night before was still folded perfectly next to the cooktop—untouched.

My heart pounded with deafening thuds as realization clicked—I’d gotten played. With glowing cheeks, I grabbed my flip flops and practically ran out of the house to begin my walk of shame.

As I trotted along the shoreline, my embarrassment radiated from me like a white hot beacon of light. I felt everyone’s probing, judgmental eyes, so I kept my head down as I shuffled along. I caught myself laughing. I couldn’t believe it and I couldn’t wait to get inside my house. I needed a shower.

I ran over the sentimental wooden walkway and yanked my sliding glass door open. As I rinsed away the filth, I digested and analyzed. I shouldn’t have been surprised. A knight in shining armor coming to my rescue. Hah. I was so disappointed in myself. What an idiot.

After showering, I buried my nose in a book on the beach. I decided to read up on different defense techniques. Pressure points were always an avenue I’d wanted to explore and learning new ways to kick someone’s ass made me feel better.

The next day my curiosity got the better of me, and I walked to Stephen’s house. I wanted to prove I was wrong. Maybe he had gone to get us breakfast in the morning but had gotten into a horrible, disfiguring accident. I’d find him with a slashed face and his leg propped up in a cast, sitting in misery on his lanai. He would be tortured because he hadn’t been physically able to come to me and tell me what had happened. It was as logical conclusion as any.

But when I looked at the property, there was no sign of him, or anyone. It was vacant. I had a couple of fun nights, and that was all it was going to be. It was for the best anyway—a no-strings-attached experience—and no one but the two of us would ever know. I let it go.

It took a few days to fully get over the sting, and by the time Friday rolled around, I awoke feeling normal again—well, as normal as I could anyway. I soaked up the last bits of the Florida sun, and at the end of the day, I packed my belongings. My ribs were nearly healed, but the pain from the loss of Gabe had returned. It would take a while before my heart would heal completely.

At eight o’clock on Saturday morning, I boarded my flight back home to Cincinnati. Three hours later, I was sticking the key into my apartment door. I was greeted by the smell of fresh flowers. I smiled at a vase of twelve long-stemmed, red roses sat in the middle of my kitchen table. I shut the door behind me and wheeled my luggage in.