Among the Echoes(22)

"Something like that. I was trying to find some gauze."

"In my bag?"

"Okay fine. I was being a nosy woman and trying to figure out what your deal is," I rush out, embarrassed.

"And did you?" His friendly tone disappears completely.

"No."

"Our good friend Dave didn’t fill you in?"

"Huh?" How does he know that Dave looked into him? We stare at each other, both of us just as confused as the other. "Well, Adam, this was fun," I say awkwardly. "I should go. I just wanted to say thanks for tonight, and I’m sorry about everything—including stealing your tape."

I turn and head for the door when I hear him ask from behind me, "What’s your last name?"

I freeze for a moment, knowing how I want to answer, but instead, I say, "Peterson. Yours?" I question.

"Andrews."

I turn back to face him with a true smile. "Adam Andrews is quite the mouthful. I like the alliteration though."

"Yep," he answers without emotion, and it appears he's lost in thought.

"Okay, well…I’ll see you around."

"Yep," he repeats while staring blankly over my shoulder.

Without another glance, I open the door and head back to my apartment.

No sooner than I walk in does Dave start in with the questions.

"How’d it go?"

"Weird," I answer, perplexed.

"Weird good? Or weird bad?"

"Weird weird," I respond, heading to my room.

I need some sleep and a whole new day. Unfortunately for me, I’ll only be getting one of those tonight. Even if my alarm weren’t scheduled to go off in approximately one hour, there is no way my mind would allow me to fall asleep tonight. Not when there is obsessing to be done. And I have a full twenty-four hours’ worth of things to obsess about—all of which start and end with muscles and golden-brown eyes.





"Wake up, sunshine!" I hear from the other side of my front door, quickly followed by a loud knock.

I pry my eyes open and notice that it’s well past noon. Jesus, I can’t remember the last time I slept this late, though there were a lot of firsts for me last night.

"Oh, Mr. Andrews?" he calls and it sends me rushing toward the door before the * on the other side has a chance to repeat it.

I crack the door to find that prick from last night holding a drink carrier containing two large coffees. Before I have a chance to slam the door in his face, he slides a foot inside, braces a hand against the top, and says, "We need to talk, Slate." He says my name as if it were a threat, and it only serves to enrage me. The smile on his swollen face has me wanting to reopen every single wound Riley no doubt closed last night.

"I have nothing to say to you," I respond, looking down at his foot, silently ordering him to remove it or lose it.

He smiles wider while stepping even closer to the door. "Maybe not. But there are a few things you should know about Riley and her past."

I watch him for a minute, trying to figure out what the hell to do. I know I should close the f*cking door, pack up, and head to my apartment in Chicago. I should chalk this place up as a loss and never look back. But instead, I open the door and usher him inside. Hopefully, I can get some answers about the small woman I can’t seem to stop worrying about.

"Good choice. My next move was calling the tabloids to let them know where you were hiding."

"I’m not paying you off to keep quiet if that’s where you are trying to go with this," I say firmly. I love it here, but not enough to give him a single cent.

He begins to chuckle and shake his head. "I’m not trying to blackmail you. So can you tone it down a notch? Let’s talk."

"Right. Talk." I motion away the coffee he pushes toward me.

With a shrug, he puts the drink on the table then flops down on the couch. "Well okay then," he says, propping his hands behind his head and crossing his legs at the ankles, making himself completely at home. Fucking dick. "Riley is my cousin. Our moms were sisters and we were both only children. I think of her like my sister."

"Get to the point," I growl to speed him up so I can kick his ass out and hopefully catch the next flight to Chicago. I can’t imagine that this is going to have a positive ending. A retreat to my apartment in the Windy City is inevitably in my future.