Gone (Deadly Secrets #2)(18)

Her stomach growled, reminding her she’d skipped dinner. Realizing lying there twiddling her thumbs wasn’t going to do any good, she decided maybe a snack would help her settle down.

She folded back the blankets and pushed to her feet. The floorboards creaked, and she stilled, looking toward Alec to see if she’d disturbed him. He didn’t move, just continued drawing in long, deep breaths and releasing them slowly.

She’d watched him sleep hundreds of times, but something in her heart turned over at the sight tonight. And in a rush of emotion, she realized why. Because this was the man she wanted, not the one she’d left at dinner. She was fooling herself into thinking she was ready to move on with someone else when she was still in love with Alec. Which meant tomorrow, when she finally got out of here, she needed to have a long talk with Jeremy and walk away from something she never should have started.

She frowned because that was a conversation she really didn’t want to have. Dating her boss had not been a smart move at all.

She moved quietly into the kitchen, the thick socks Alec had loaned her soundless on the floor. Since her slacks weren’t nearly warm enough overnight, he’d given her a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt. The sweatshirt was no problem—she’d always loved wearing his baggy shirts to sleep in—but the sweats were huge. Even after rolling the waist down three times, the legs were way too long. The only solution had been to tug the elastic hem on each leg up to her knees so she didn’t trip over the fabric.

The kitchen was nearly as big as the living room with a central empty space and counters lining the walls to the right and left. The room was dark, but there was enough light reflecting off the snow outside for her to see the island jutting out ahead, separating the kitchen from the dining area, and the sliding glass doors that looked out over the battered back porch and the layer of white beyond.

She opened cupboards one by one as quietly as she could. Most were empty. Others held a few dishes and pots. The only food she found was cereal, a couple of boxes of macaroni and cheese, ramen noodles, peanut butter, and coffee. Moving to the fridge, she discovered a half-empty gallon of milk, a block of cheese, and a loaf of bread. Nothing else.

Typical bachelor food. It was the same sort of stuff he’d had in his apartment when they’d first met. During their marriage, she’d gone out of her way to make sure he ate healthy. Alec hated to cook, which had never bothered her because she enjoyed cooking, and she saw it as a winning trade-off because he’d happily done all the shopping. Clearly, though, he hadn’t paid much attention to what she’d put on her lists back then because none of it was in his fridge now.

Sighing, she decided a peanut butter sandwich would do the trick. Grabbing the milk and bread, she moved to the counter, set the items down, and reached for a glass from the cupboard.

“What the heck are you doing?” Alec asked just as she lifted a glass of milk to her lips.

Raegan jerked in surprise, and the glass slipped from her fingers. Wide-eyed, she watched as the tumbler hit the edge of the aged tile counter, ricocheted off the surface, and shattered at her feet.

Glass and milk sprayed over her socks and across the floor. Something sharp stabbed into the flesh at her shin. She winced and was about to step back, when Alec yelled, “No. Don’t move.” Then, “Shit. There’s glass everywhere. Just stay still.”

He disappeared through a doorway she hadn’t noticed to her right and reappeared with a flashlight, which he flicked on and set on the edge of the counter, a broom and dustpan, and a towel. “Here.” He pushed the towel into her hands. “That’s for the milk. Wait until I get the glass out of the way first, though.”

“You scared me.” Taking the towel, she pressed it against her chest and breathed, trying not to move so she didn’t slice up her feet. Her socks—correction, his socks—were soaked.

“Sorry.” He pulled the broom through the milk, sweeping up the glass. “I didn’t see you had a cup in your hand. I—dammit.”

When the broom stilled, she looked down. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re cut.” He leaned the broom against the counter and stepped toward her.

“Wait, you’re going to step on gla—”

His strong arms swept her up off the floor, and he carried her across the kitchen and set her on the far end of the island counter. Tugging her left pant leg up, she saw what she’d missed because of the thick, blousy fabric: a piece of glass at least an inch long and an eighth of an inch thick sticking straight out of her shin.

“Oh my.” Her head grew light, and she must have swayed because Alec’s arm was suddenly around her waist and she was leaning into his weight.

“Don’t pass out on me.” He shifted her injured leg so it was stretched out on the counter, then moved her back so she could rest against the wall where the counters formed an L shape.

“I don’t do well with the sight of blood,” she managed in a voice that sounded far away and weak.

“I remember. Here.” He lifted the towel in her hands up toward her face. “Cover your eyes while I pull out the glass.”

Her stomach rolled, and she knew better than to try to look again. Covering her head with the towel, she held her breath and waited.

With one hand on her thigh to hold her leg still, Alec said, “Okay, on three. Ready?”