Page 73 of Direct Action

She was the one.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I really should’ve taken a shower, but the best I could do was wash my makeup off and brush my teeth.

After I did my business in the bathroom, Ryan went in with his backpack, and I pawed through my drawer for something that said sexy and captivating. I found no such nightie and settled on sleep shorts and a tank, vowing a sexy nightie for Ryan would be my first purchase after I got caught up on bills, put some money back into my savings account, and had at least two months of payments set aside for my dad’s home. Oh, and paid to fix my freaking car.

I heard the door to the bathroom open. The light went out, and for some silly reason my heart started pounding.

The covers pulled back, the mattress dipped, and my belly did a somersault.

Ryan’s arm slid under my pillow, he rolled me closer to him, and I felt like I was on one of those amusement park rides that took you up five hundred feet, letting you hang for a few seconds before you plummeted back to earth. I was right at the top, hanging there, the anticipation thick, waiting for the fall.

Though truth be told, I’d fallen a long time ago—it was just that this was now our beginning.

“You good?”

I did not trust my voice, so I nodded.

“All right, baby, get some sleep.”

I was exhausted. He had to be tired. But this was Ryan, and he was finally in my bed; there was no way I was falling asleep.

I should’ve been counting sheep, but instead all I could think about was Poppy’s very unhappy—dare I say hurt—expression when Beckett followed Sterling and his guests out of the bar. To make matters worse, he’d had his hand on the woman’s lower back while they walked out into the lobby.

Once I decided that I was going to call her tomorrow and give her the third degree and demand she spill her guts and admit she had the hots for the Grizzly Adams wannabe, thoughts of Naomi invaded. I couldn’t say she was friendly or that I’d exchanged more than a handful of words with her, but I needed to find a way to make the girl talk and see if she’d mention Sterling or what a feast was.

And Muriel. She’d be a tough nut to crack, but I wondered—if I let it slip that I needed money and mentioned hearing something about hostessing, if she’d know anything about that.

And Sterling. He was going to be a problem. On the drive home, I’d watched Ryan get more and more tense the longer he talked to Beckett. At one point he’d taken his eyes off the road and looked over at me in the passenger seat, with danger signs flashing in his eyes. I knew that was when Beckett had told him I’d tripped and Sterling had caught me. Shitty timing for me to have a slip and almost fall.

The worst timing ever!

“Baby, you are the loudest thinker I know.”

Oh no, was I moving around?

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Nothing to be sorry for. Do you have something on your mind you want to talk about?”

“You’re tired—”

He gave me a squeeze and pulled me even closer.

“Never too tired to listen if something’s weighing heavy on your mind.”

There was so much weighing heavy on my mind it would take a decade to unload.

“Sleep, honey.”

Suddenly I was on my back, Ryan was up on an elbow, and he was looking down at me.

“Chloe, tell me what you need to unburden your mind.”

I wasn’t sure what I needed, but I sure did know what I wanted.

“Kiss me.”