He smiled, and her insides melted a little at the way one corner of his mouth seemed to lift a little higher. He was so good looking, and she didn’t know why he was interested in her when she was such a mess. “I don’t need that promise, but I appreciate it.”
They gazed at each other for a long moment. His hand remained on her leg, a welcoming weight that didn’t frighten her. She’d talked to her therapist about Dalton’s presence in her life at the moment, and Donelle had encouraged Steff to take baby steps.
Deep in her soul, she knew that if she asked Dalton to move away, or to stop what he was doing with her, he would—without question.
“We should finish our meal, I’m not sure it will taste as good cold,” she said, breaking the bubble they’d been existing in.
“We can’t have that.” He stood and brushed his fingers across her cheek, her skin tingling in its wake.
There wasn’t much conversation as they finished eating. Steff didn’t feel the need to fill the silence, as it was comfortable, as if they’d had a million meals together, not just two.
Chapter Twelve
Jag spiedthe box still sitting on Steff’s coffee table. She was in the kitchen fixing the ice cream they were having for dessert. He’d blown off her apologies that she didn’t have anything fancy. He didn’t normally have anything after dinner, but he was a sucker for chocolate ice cream, and hadn’t been upset when Steff had offered it if he felt like something.
“Don’t forget you’ve got this box here to open up?” Jag called out. The courier guy hadn’t been too happy about Jag taking it off him. He hadn’t got any creeper vibes off him, but now that he had time to sit back and think about it, the guy’s assertion that he had to be the one to take it up had been a little out of the ordinary. Most couriers were happy for anyone to take it off their hands. It sometimes led to theft, so maybe the guy was being overly cautious.
It was only when a couple of people had walked past the building’s entrance and had looked at them, that the guy handed it over. Jag had made sure the delivery guy was around the corner before he had buzzed Steff to let her know he was there.
Wait, where was the guy’s truck or van?
The building had a loading zone bay at the front which most drivers would’ve used, but this guy hadn’t.
Something wasn’t adding up.
He got up and examined the box. Jag stilled, and the fine hairs on the back of his neck rose in concern, when he saw the sender portion of the label was empty. There was also no bar code or QR code like most labels had these days.
Steff came into the room and popped the bowls on the table, her head canted to the side, looking at him. “Something wrong?”
Jag hated hearing the note of fear in her voice, and he wished he could tell her that it wasn’t anything. That he was overreacting, but his gut was telling him something was off about the whole situation. “There’s no sender information.”
Her face paled, and she swayed a little. He closed the gap between them and took her hand, squeezing it to let her know she wasn’t alone in this. “I haven’t ordered anything recently, so I was surprised when it turned up.”
He didn’t want to alarm her any further than he already had, and he cursed himself for not handling it a little better. “If you’re okay with this, I think I should take it to the office and open it there.”
“Why? Do you think the contents are going to hurt me?” She leaned into him a little and, even amidst the tense situation, he was pleased the move was unconscious, and she trusted him to keep her safe—because he would.
“I don’t think so, but I think we should take some precautions. You didn’t buy anything. There are no recognizable brand markings on the box. And the label is missing details that are always on them.”
Not to mention the way the delivery guy acted about handing it over to Jag. He didn’t want to tell her that, because it would stress her out even more.
Nice, you promise you’re not going to lie to her, and now you are.
Jag wanted to ignore the voice inside his head, but his conscience was right. “There’s something else.”
“What?” Again, the fear was back in her voice. Dammit, this wasn’t fair to Steff. She’d made good steps with meeting Cynthia and booking in to see her therapist. She may not have told him, but Jag suspected that she had been becoming more and more of a homebody in recent times than she let on to anyone.
He led her over to the couch, making sure to keep her hand firmly within his grasp. “The delivery guy didn’t want to give it to me when I said I could take it for you. I didn’t let him know that I was coming to your place. I said I was a neighbor.” He shrugged. “I’m not sure why I said that, I just didn’t want to him to know where you lived. Which was ridiculous, seeing as your apartment number is listed on the label.”
“What? My apartment number is on the label?” Before he could react, she rushed over to the box. “Oh my god, it is.” She whirled around and looked at him, her eyes wide, and if he thought she was pale before, she looked positively pasty now. “It shouldn’t be listed. I never give out my apartment number.”
Her demeanor blanked. Her gaze lost its focus, and her hands were clenched into fists. He knew what was about to happen. He’d seen it happen twice before.
Jag was by her side in a flash, and wrapped her into a tight embrace. “I’ve got you, Steff. You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you.”
“You don’t know that. Someone knows where I live. They had something delivered here.”
Jag didn’t doubt Steff. If he’d thought the actions of the delivery guy were out of the ordinary before, now he knew for certain that there was something sinister about it all. No way was he going to allow Steff to open the box now. Nor was he going to leave her alone tonight.
