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I swiveled us around in the chair to face him.
“After work, I went home.” She took a deep breath, let it out. “The hand towels in my bathroom weren’t aligned.”
“Are you sure you didn’t leave them crooked?” I asked.
She turned her head, looked up at me, one pale brow arched as if stunned I’d ask her that question. “I wouldn’t leave them that way. I couldn’t.”
I knew she was precise and that meant she had OCD to a certain degree. Probably not to a true compulsion level, but she liked things just so. Found comfort in it.
“What else?” Mac asked. He watched her closely, as if he could get answers from her demeanor as well as her words. I could. It was obvious she was really bothered by what she’d seen, that she was upset about it.
“The magnet on my fridge had been moved from one side to the other. I don’t like it when it’s near the handle. The pizza menu bumps my hand when I open the freezer. Also the TV remote wasn’t in the basket on the coffee table. Someone was there.”
My TV remote was in my recliner, right side. Always. If I came home and found it sitting on the coffee table instead, I’d think myself crazy for about three seconds, then wonder who the fuck had been watching my TV. I believed her.
And that meant someone had been in her fucking apartment. I didn’t dare ask if she’d left the door unlocked because if she was particular about hand towels, she wouldn’t forget something like that.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Mac asked. His voice was calm, but the tone was dark. Yeah, he was pissed, most likely at the fucker who had broken in, but also with Sam.
She hopped off my lap, grabbed Mac’s T-shirt off the floor, put it on. It fell almost to her knees and fit her like a potato sack. But her tits were outlined in the cotton, and we couldn’t miss the outline of her tight nipples. She was hot as fuck.
“I was distracted,” she replied.
Mac shook his head. “No, you used sex as a distraction.”
She shrugged. “Same difference.”
I pointed at her. “For you, Miss Persnickety, it’s not the same and you know it. Were you planning on telling us?”
When she bit her bottom lip, I had my answer. We’d only known her for a day. It wasn’t long when it came to relationships. Hell, any other woman I’d have kissed her on the head post-fuck, walked her to her car out front and forgotten all about her. If she’d wanted more, I’d have called her a clinger.
With Sam, I felt like the one clinging. I wanted it all with her—hell, I wouldn’t have taken her virginity if I didn’t—but she didn’t seem to be of the same mind-set. And that was what pissed me off, that we felt more than she did. “You wanted our dicks, but not our protection?”
Her head snapped back as if I’d slapped her with my sharp words, but she didn’t argue. Didn’t contradict. Yeah, that was what she thought. “Why would you want to take on my problems?” she asked.
Holy shit. She was fucking serious.
“Why?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. I pointed at her chest. “You’re wearing Mac’s T-shirt. I bet your pussy’s sore from our dicks. Why the fuck wouldn’t we?”
“Someone slashed your tire yesterday,” Mac recapped. “Today someone was in your apartment. And you didn’t think we’d want to know?”
“I don’t know you,” she finally argued.
“You’re pretty much naked in our shop. You know us pretty fucking well.”
She blushed and looked away. “It was just sex,” she said.
“How the hell would you know? You’ve never had dick before ours. You think it’s always like that?” I stood, went over to her and tipped her chin so she had to look at me. “You think this connection between us is nothing, just a quickie on a couch? You think we’d take your virginity if you didn’t mean something? If you didn’t mean everything?”
She looked at me with those blue eyes, studying, thinking. I could see her mind at work. “I’m not the only one keeping things a secret.”
I frowned, stroked my thumb over her soft cheek.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked.
She looked to Mac.
“Were you arrested for buying drugs?”
