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thirty-three
Sunny jolted awake, certain that she smelled smoke in the air. She blinked in the darkness, her heart pounding in her chest.
The room was dark. The clock read 2:15 a.m. Chevy was at the foot of the bed, fast asleep. Sunny drew air into her lungs and smelled only the ghost of tonight’s roast chicken and potatoes, which she’d barely picked at.
She slipped out of bed and peeked out the window. No fire. She couldn’t see the blackened remnants of the dogs’ house and Roger’s rooms, but she knew it was there, in the darkness, smelling of ash and cinders. She’d moved all her dogs into the smaller cabins, along with Roger, until the structure was no longer a potential crime scene and she could rebuild. When Sean had heard what happened, he’d sent a car to patrol at random times throughout the night, along with a promise to look into the investigation.
Sunny padded over to the guest room, Constance’s room, and stood outside the closed door. Pete had stayed with her all day, then offered to sleep here until Constance made it out of North Carolina. Sunny had insisted Constance not rush home—the damage was done. Cici had promised to be back by the following morning.
She knocked softly. So softly, she wasn’t even sure Pete would hear it.
Pete opened the door within seconds, his hair ruffled, chest bare and eyes squinting with sleep. He wore only a pair of boxer briefs. Sunny wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Pete in anything that bared his legs, at least not since they were kids. They were more muscular than she’d expected.
“What’s the matter?” Pete looked over her head and peered around her shoulder, searching for villains. Only after he saw that Sunny was alone did his gaze halt on her flimsy sleep tee. It was white and came to the tops of her thighs. Sunny knew it was see-through, but hadn’t given that any thought before she came here. Knocking on Pete’s door hadn’t been planned.
“I need you.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’m yours.” Fezzi appeared next to Pete’s legs. If Cici was out of town and Pete was around, Fezzi stuck to him like glue. “Let me get some pants on.”
Sunny shook her head. She stepped closer, until she could feel the warmth from Pete’s body against her own. He smelled like the roses that permeated Cici’s room, a scent that Sunny had grown up knowing to mean her sister was nearby, and that she was safe, no matter what.
“What is it?” Pete’s brows knitted.
Sunny’s arms slid around his waist.
“Okay,” he said. One arm went around her shoulders and pulled her against his chest. He held her tight, like she needed a hug. “It’ll be okay.”
Sunny nestled her face into the crook of his neck, drinking in his scents and warmth. The iron fist in her gut relaxed, but her shivers increased, changing from fear to something else, something as new as the spring wind that tried to blow the fresh scents of grass and early flowers over her burned dog quarters.
She didn’t realize she’d kissed him until his body went rigid. His neck was warm and sweet. She kissed him again, closer to his ear. The arm around her shoulders tightened. After the third kiss, the hand at the small of her back balled up her shirt in his fist. She kissed along his jawline, over the short beard he’d yet to shave. By the time she reached his lips, she could feel his hardness against her. “This is what I meant,” Sunny whispered, “when I said I needed you.”
Pete pushed her hair from her face. “My answer hasn’t changed,” he whispered back. “I’m yours.”
Sunny’s body flooded with heat, scalp to toes. “So that means—” Sunny brushed her mouth over his “—that you’ll take me back to my room and make love to me?”
Pete drew back a little. He ran his hand down her arm, to her fingertips. “Is that what you want me to do?”
Sunny nodded, her throat almost too tight to speak. “I’ve never done that.” She wasn’t sure he’d understand. She’d had sex plenty of times, and had never really thought there was anything more to it. Until the day Pete had kissed her. That kiss had been like a spotlight over every little thing Pete had ever done for her, illuminating every smile, fist bump, game played in the woods; every hour spent by her side, saving dogs, saving lives, saving her. The only other person who had ever been there for her like that was her sister.
Pete’s pupils grew so big his irises almost disappeared. “I’ll make love to you, Sunny Skye,” he said. “But I have to warn you. I won’t be coming out of that the same.” There was no shame in his words. “There’ll be no turning back. At least for me.”
“I already can’t go back.” Sunny’s voice cracked over her words. She’d never felt so bare in all her life. She actually felt more naked, in her see-through sleep shirt, than she ever had fully nude, in front of other men.
Pete didn’t say anything. Sunny shivered and crossed her arms over her chest. He reached out and gently uncrossed them. “Don’t hide, sweetheart.” He drew her in again, tightly against him. “I already told you. I’m yours.”
“You weren’t kidding when you said you’d be here by morning.” Sunny smoothed out her hair and adjusted her shirt. She didn’t notice it was buttoned crooked until Constance’s gaze lingered there.
Cici drew her in for a hug and held her so tight Sunny thought her spine might crack. “We got back late and slept before we came over.” Constance drew back and motioned toward the Tall-Dark-and-Handsome standing inside Sunny’s threshold.
Rhett waved. He looked different than he had at Christmas, when he was wearing a button-down and was freshly shaven. Now he looked like a giant beach bum, with longish hair, five-o’clock shadow and shorts that smelled like suntan lotion. Both versions were striking.
“You remember Pete.” Sunny gestured to him as he suppressed a yawn.
“Yep.” Rhett nodded and Pete nodded back.
“Pete’s been staying with me as much as he can,” Sunny explained.
Constance’s eyes narrowed as she took in the scene—Pete, looking like he hadn’t slept, Sunny, with her crooked blouse. “I’m going to go check it out.” Constance headed for the kitchen, which would give her access to the backyard.
