Page 17 of Still Missing You

“Don’t you think, honey? It’s so charming.” He gestures wide with his free hand while his hold on mine with his other hand tightens as if he’s afraid I’ll walk out if he lets go. The idea isn’t without its appeal.

Maybe sensing a strange vibe, a faint frown clouds Mrs. Ellis’s expression. “I’ll leave you to it. If there’s anything you need, please let me know. You’ll find either my husband, Jim, or me at the front desk.”

“Thank you,” Dylan says, herding the woman toward the open door. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Once she’s on the other side of the threshold, he plucks the key from her hand and closes the door before leaning back on it and turning his slightly panicked expression on me.

“One room?” I make no effort to hide my incredulity.

Dylan hushes me, widening his eyes meaningfully, before whisper-yelling, “Lower your voice. We’ll be doing all this for nothing if you announce who we are within the first five minutes of our arrival. And to answer your question, yes, one room. We’re supposed to be boyfriends enjoying a romantic getaway. It would look pretty weird if we were staying in separate rooms.”

Shit. He has a point, as much as I hate to admit it. While I’d agreed to this plan in part to keep Dylan from doing something dangerous, I’d also believed he might have been right about people being more forthcoming when it came to answering questions from a couple asking about a missing friend versus an investigator ex-cop digging for answers. That doesn’t mean I like the idea, or that I’m even comfortable with subterfuge.

How in the hell am I going to handle staying in such close quarters with Dylan over the next five days? My gaze drifts to the bed—I can’t help it—and everything inside me pulls tight again.

Maybe we won’t need to stay the full five days. The faster we work out what happened to Matthew, the faster we can get out of here. I could go back to my normal life, put Dylan back in the past where he belonged, and focus on my future.

What future? I ignore the ugly little voice inside me. The one that reminds me that somewhere since leaving the Burlington PD, all I do is work, eat, sleep, work out and work again.

I think of Dylan and his café, his cabin in the woods, and his eclectic assortment of friends. He has a full life, and I shouldn’t resent him for it. We’d been kids when we dated. It isn’t fair to still be angry about how he handled a teenage breakup before disappearing from my life. I need to grow up and act like a professional.

“Okay, fine,” I concede. I have no idea how I’m going to survive five days sharing a room with Dylan Moore, the past between us like a minefield ready to explode with one wrong step, but he is right. If we’re playing the parts of two men in love, we have to behave like two men in love. Goddamn, it’s going to be a long week.

Chapter Seven

Dylan

Hunter mutters something about taking a shower before disappearing into the ensuite, leaving me alone in our room. I let out the breath I feel like I’ve been holding for hours and sink down onto the edge of the bed. God, it’s already been such a long day, and it’s not even noon.

The whole drive to Coldwater Hunter had been quiet, brooding, and any attempt I made at small talk, he shut down with one-word answers. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I could see his features tightening with anger when he realized we’d be sharing a room and his eyes narrowing on me like he was having to bite back on what he really wanted to say.

He was angry, and not just about the room. Not that I didn’t get it. I’d hurt him, the one person I never wanted to, but at the time, I hadn’t seen any other way out. Still, that didn’t change what I did, or that my actions wounded Hunter.

Yet, despite all my reasonable rationalizations, it doesn’t hurt any less to see how difficult it is for Hunter to just exist in the same space as me. With a sigh, I stand from the bed and start to unpack my suitcase.

There is no way I’m going to fit everything I brought in that tiny white dresser, never mind anything from Hunter’s almost comically small bag. I scan the room, hoping I’ve missed a closet or another dresser in my first sweep of the small space. Nope, this is it.

When it came to what I thought of the room, I played it up for Nancy Ellis, calling it charming and cozy. I suppose both those things could be true if you found one’s grandmother’s sense of style cozy or charming.

We were here for five days, and honesty wouldn’t have done any of us any good just then. Matthew had stayed in this same inn. I’m sure he’d spoken to both Nancy and Jim Ellis during his stay, and maybe they’d shed some light on any trouble Matthew had been in. Better to stay on their good side.

The bathroom door clicks open, and I look over my shoulder as Hunter steps out. His brown hair is still damp and tousled. He’s dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a black Henley t-shirt that clings to his muscled shoulders and chest. My mouth turns dry, and for a second, I forget how to speak. Instead, I stay where I am, crouched next to my suitcase on the floor, gaping like a slack-jawed idiot.

It doesn’t seem fair that Hunter still looks as good, hell, even better, than I remember. Who am I kidding? It’s fair. It’s like a penance for letting him go. At the time, I’d just been trying to do the right thing, and so unfamiliar with the concept that it’s no wonder I screwed the whole thing up.

His eyes meet mine, and for a long moment, he doesn’t speak. Unease curls around my insides like a gust of icy wind. I can’t read his inscrutable expression. Is he still angry? Did he hope when he came out of the bathroom, I would have disappeared? I have no answers.

“I saved you two drawers,” I blurt out, mostly just to fill the uneasy silence stretching between us.

He huffs out a humorless chuckle. “Keep them for yourself. I can just leave my stuff in my bag.”

I nod and opt to change the subject. “So, what’s the plan for the rest of today?”

He shrugs. “I figured we’d check out the town. Maybe talk to a few people who knew Matthew.”

“Okay, sounds good.” I unpack as much as I can from my suitcase, choosing to leave the items of clothing I suspect I’m least likely to wear while I’m staying here. Once I stand straight, Hunter has already pulled on his jacket and is waiting for me by the door.

I shoot him a saccharine smile. “Sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Whenever you’re ready, dear.”