Page 23 of Secret Sins

Life is short, they say. If mine was destined to be shorter than most, maybe I should enjoy it instead of hiding from it. Even if it scared me half to death.

Chapter 10

Bailey

I didn't want to read too much into it, but Van was standing in my apartment. The most skittish man I knew was within reach. In my home. With my cat and his dog.

After I changed faster than I'd ever done in my life, we gave Heidi a bath in my tub, which was an ancient claw foot with a resurfaced porcelain white finish. Next to Charlie and the bookstore, it was my most prized possession. The bathroom wasn't that big, so Van and I kept bumping into each other. Sometimes, I even did it on purpose.

I'm devious like that.

The cut on his head didn't look as bad as I expected it to, but his knuckles were still awful. As he rubbed a towel briskly over Heidi's fur, I dug out a heavy-duty ointment and the fingerless gloves I used in the winter when my skin decided it hated me.

"Here." Holding them toward him, I explained, "Your hands are constantly wet, and they'll never heal without help. Slather this on at bedtime and cover them with gloves so it doesn't all rub off."

Straightening to his full height, Van stared down at me. Me, not the shit I offered him. Suddenly feeling the temperature in the bathroom rise, I cleared my throat and gazed back at the startling blue of his eyes as his body dwarfed the remaining space.

"Thanks." Without releasing my trapped gaze, he covered my hands with his, the stark difference in our sizes making me feel petite. "I've been using the stuff Ro gave me, but it's had minimal effect."

"I'm sorry to hear that." The way he focused so intently on my face made my skin tingle. "Hopefully, since the gloves are fingerless, you can make them fit." Because his hands were so much larger than my own.

All the better to touch me everywhere.

Heidi bumped into the back of my legs, forcing us closer. Thanks for the assist, sweet girl. Our hands still caught between us, our chests touching, our mouths inches apart . . .

Van sucked in a deep breath. "Bailey."

Dear God, his voice was full-bodied, rich as the most flavorful cup of coffee I'd ever tasted. Better than that hit of caffeine I craved. "Hm?"

"This, all of this." His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "It scares me."

"Me too, honestly."

His brows went up. "Really?"

My heart beat loudly in my ears as I felt his fingers brush over the back of my hand. "Yeah, because you sound as if you're dying to run away every time we're together."

Looking down at our joined hands, he said, "Let me put this stuff somewhere. I'd like to talk to you."

The spell wasn't broken; it was merely paused. At least, that's what I told myself.

My living room wasn't huge, but it was decently spacious. Charlie sprawled across a dining chair, his tail twitching as he monitored every move Heidi made. She was mostly dry and paced over to the couch before sitting delicately on the floor in front of it.

"How long have you lived up here?" Van asked, setting his things on my kitchen table.

"I moved out of Riley's house five years ago, shortly after I turned twenty-one. She helped me get the bookstore off the ground, using the bit of money my parents left behind."

Sitting on the couch, I patted the spot beside me in invitation. Heidi shifted, resting her head on my knee.

"You can ignore her pitiful gaze if you don't want her up there."

Without hesitation, I said, "I wouldn't mind her sitting on the couch, but I would rather you sit here instead."

Bashful, reticent, wary of the barest level of intimacy; that's how I'd describe Van.

But he sat down on my purple two-seater sofa, his closest knee touching mine as he angled to face me. "You started a small business, and I worked for a mafia don."

I had to work hard not to choke; I really didn't think he'd tell me something that personal so soon. "You were in the mafia?" I whispered, my brows crinkling together.