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Her heartbeat accelerated as her gaze met his. “Are you going to command me not to launch my own investigation?” Was that his important errand?
“As if you’d follow any orders. Sweetheart, this isn’t my first day as your almost husband.” A smile teased the corner of his mouth when she sputtered. “I’m returning to the station. I just wanted to make sure you got home okay.”
Ohhh. How sweet. He was, without a doubt, the world’s best boyfriend. Jane reached up to toy with the ends of his hair, the strands a little longer since he’d left the Bureau. “Will you come back for dinner?”
“Nothing can stop me.” He leaned in and kissed her. “One more thing. You plan to interview the bartender. I see it in your eyes. Do me a favor and give Barrow a few days to question the guy before you approach him. If you insist on speaking with someone today, and we both know you will, start with the neighbor. But do not leave this cottage without Beau. Understand? In fact, keep him by your side for the rest of the day. I’ll return around seven.” He lowered his chin, his intense gaze mesmerizing her. “Now, this next part is most important.” His voice dipped, growing husky. “Are your listening ears on?”
“When you use that tone,” she replied with a shiver, “always.”
Blue eyes glittering, he told her, “I’d like you to pack a bag, scoop up your murderous cat, and move in with me.”
Jane sucked air between her teeth. “I didn’t hear you. My listening ears fell off.”
“Temporarily if you prefer,” he added as if she hadn’t spoken.
There was just so much to unpack. First, he knew her too well. Of course she wanted to interview the bartender right away. She intended to learn more about illicit activities committed with or without the Gentleman. Did Conrad think she would spook the guy, jeopardizing the case?
Well, he might not be wrong. So fine. Whatever. She could concentrate on the neighbor and his dispute with the deputy, as requested. Because how easy it would’ve been for Mr. Garfield to sneak into the house, disable the security system, and add drugs to the coffee grounds? But what did Conrad mean by “move in with me?” For how long exactly? The tacked on “temporarily if you prefer” hung between them heavier than a fall fog.
Despite the cold, sweat beaded on her nape. She couldn’t…they shouldn’t…he wouldn’t… He understood how seriously she took her role as caretaker of the Garden. How she never wished to leave. But she understood Conrad was smack dab in the middle of renovating the home he’d just bought; making him return to her guest bedroom would only delay his work. And yeah, she kind of wanted to see him swing a hammer.
Still, she wrestled with indecision. Yes or no? Stay or go? On one hand, this was the best time to leave the Garden. On the other, she’d be moving in with Conrad, and while they’d already done the whole “live together” thing once before while he’d searched for a place of his own, this scenario felt different. They’d been broken up then, and they were very much a couple now. So…
Yes or no? Stay or go?
Conrad took mercy on her struggle to form a coherent response. “If Gunn was right and there’s some kind of wanna be mobster in Aurelian Hills, I want you protected nonstop. Bonus, you’ll get to help me decorate my new place.”
Though she tried to resist temptation, a wave of anticipation and excitement swept through her, erasing every possible reason to refuse. What would a temporary move-in hurt? They fit like puzzle pieces. And honestly, she desperately missed having him and his adorable corgi Cheddar around.
Besides, who wouldn’t want to decorate his amazing craftsman bungalow? She remembered his sterile condo in Atlanta. All whites and beiges with no personal touch. The poor darling! Could she really allow her favorite person on Earth to live in such a prison? But dang it, she didn’t have to be so happy about this. The curse…
Argh! She wasn’t traveling that road again. The curse could suck it. Never again would she permit fear to make her decisions and ruin her life.
“Alright,” she grumbled. “I’ll move in with you temporarily. On two conditions. We pretend the flyer nonsense never happened. And I have unlimited veto power for your furnishings.”
“Unlimited veto power, yes. But the flyer? Sorry, sweetheart.” He tapped a finger to his temple. “It’s already immortalized. It can never die.”
“This is one murder I’m happy to commit.” Wait. A suspicion arose. She licked her lips. “Are you, um, doing this because you hope to get, um, married someday?” Would she break his big, beautiful heart with her refusal? Were they destined to split over this issue? Because put him in peril? Hardly. She wasn’t a monster.
