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And her traitorous heart somersaulted in her chest, something going dark and liquid in her belly at the sight of him. A small part, one that she hardly acknowledged, hoped that he’d scoop her up and kiss her again.
Lacey mentally kicked herself for her disobedient thoughts and held out the wineglass. “Welcome home. Dinner is in the oven,” she said, then she cringed, immediately realizing that she sounded more like a wife welcoming a husband home than practically a stranger in his house. Damn. She wished the words back into her mouth, but hid her dismay behind a bright smile.
Something flashed in Nico’s eyes, and he looked as if he was about to say something, but instead, he gave her a tired smile and gulped down half of the glass of wine.
“Thanks,” he said, leaning down to pat Smudge before removing his gun from his side holster and locking it away in the safe.
“Long day at work, huh?” she asked, then mentally slapped her forehead because she still sounded more like the wife than the stranger.
“Yep. We charged Karim for being drunk and disorderly and assault of a police officer, but he’ll probably get bail tomorrow. The parents weren’t happy.”
“I can imagine.” She beckoned him toward the living room and the fire. “Dinner will only be ten minutes. Come and sit down.” Her deceitful body could sense him only a few feet behind her, feel the heat of his big body, and she had to crush the sudden desperate wish that he reach out and touch her, trace a gentle finger down the curve of her neck, then curl his fingers around her throat and turn her so he could delve his tongue into her mouth…
Nico fell heavily into the couch with a sigh, as she mentally berated herself. He wasn’t going to kiss her again. She didn’t want him to kiss her again, she kept reminding herself.
“You cooked dinner again? And lit the fire.” He looked impressed. “I could get used to this.” Then as if he realized what he’d just said, his eyes went wide.
“Ah, that came out wrong. I’m not saying… I didn’t mean to imply… I know you’re not…” He gave her a stricken frown and leaned forward, nearly spilling his wine.
She laughed at his troubled face and efforts to backtrack. He’d fallen down the same domestic rabbit hole she’d jumped into. It was some consolation that he’d done the same thing. “Relax.” She raised her glass and clinked it against his. “I don’t think you’re a misogynistic pig. Not yet, anyway.” As long as he didn’t think she was trying to weasel her way into being his wife after a few days spent in his house. She watched as he settled back into the couch, Smudge resting his nose on Nico’s feet and looking up at him adoringly.
“I had nothing else to do, and I kind of enjoyed doing nothing today. It was nice for a change not to be planning my next route, or worrying if I was going to run out of petrol, or finding out the cockroaches have made a nest in my pasta and I have nothing to cook for dinner,” she admitted with a laugh.
He laughed along with her, and the mood lightened. “I mean it, though. I didn’t expect you to do this,” he said again.
“I know.”
The timer on the oven dinged, and Lacey got up to see to the pie. As she was laying a large piece onto a plate, alongside a serving of salad, she heard Nico’s phone ring.
“Hi, Mum,” she heard him say. Should she take his plate through to the living room, or wait for him to finish his conversation? She didn’t want to interrupt, but then, she also didn’t want the pie to go cold.
There was more murmured, one-sided conversation that she couldn’t quite hear. Making a decision, Lacey picked up the plate and carried it to the living room, placing it on the side coffee table nearest to where Nico had been seated. He was now pacing to and fro in front of the fireplace, head down so she couldn’t see his expression. She made wild gestures trying to show him his dinner and that she’d leave him to it, when he looked up and locked eyes with her. Then he shook his head, pleading wordlessly with her to stay.
“Hold on a sec, Mum, slow down. What are you saying?”
Nico’s face was ghost white as he held the phone to his ear, his gaze never leaving Lacey’s. It was too late for her to give him privacy now; she could tell his mother had given him some terrible news. So, she stayed, glued to his every word. Even though she felt uncomfortable, as if she were a voyeur, listening in on his family’s secrets.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying. It can’t be true. This must be a hoax. Dad is dead. We buried him in a wooden box in the ground. I was there at the funeral, and so were you.”
Lacey had to stop a gasp from breaking from her throat. Nico’s dad was dead? They hadn’t covered any of his family dynamics yet in any of their talks. He’d mentioned his mother a few times with an affectionate smile. But she’d never had time to ask about the rest of his family. But if his father was dead, what was his mother saying about a hoax?
She listened to him try to calm his mother down over the phone for the next ten minutes, him pacing back and forth on the rug, her perched on the edge of her seat, watching him with concerned eyes, the pie forgotten on the table.
Finally he promised to call his mum back first thing tomorrow morning and then he hung up. Falling into his seat on the couch, he laid his head back and pursed his lips.
Lacey wasn’t sure what to say.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward position,” Nico said at last. “But I’m not sure exactly what to think. If what my mother says is true… But it can’t be.” His eyes took on a faraway look before he said, “I was hoping to get your insight, if you don’t mind?”
“Sure, not at all,” she replied quickly, laying a hand on his arm. This was so unlike the composed, earnest man she was used to. Professional Detective Sergeant Favreau was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a very agitated and bemused Nico sat before her, scrubbing hard at his chest, as if his very heart was pounding too hard, trying to escape from his body. Lacey was worried about him. Naturally, she would help in any way she could.
CHAPTER TWELVE
NICO’S FIRST IMPULSE when his mother had started speaking was to leave the room, or let Lacey leave the room, as she clearly wanted to give him some privacy. But as his mother’s words sank in, he needed Lacey’s genuine presence to anchor him. For once, his cool reason deserted him completely. What his mother was saying was crazy, but also very personal, and his normally logical mind couldn’t seem to grasp the entirety of what she was telling him. Lacey had already heard his half of the conversation, so there was no hiding it from her. Lacey’s rational mind would help him to unravel the knots of untruth his mother had just told him, when his own brain was spiraling like a Texas tornado.
Lacey was looking at him expectantly, but he wasn’t sure where to begin. So he took another swig of his wine, surprised to find he’d emptied the glass in one gulp.
“Would you like a refill?” she asked.
