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The residential street was quiet except for a pair of shining eyes across the street. Another hunter on the move—the cat slid into the hedge in front of Mrs. Fleming’s house. Trevor turned his baseball cap so the bill blocked his face and ambled across his yard and along the sidewalk. Just a typical insomniac, hoping a late-night stroll would bring sleep. At the corner, he crossed, continued walking, then slid into the alley. Once safely behind the row of garages, he trotted to his and opened the door. “Sam, all clear.”
She climbed from his dark SUV and slung her backpack across her shoulders. “I’m ready.”
“You’ll go between the houses and wait at the edge of this one.” He pointed at Mrs. Pickney’s house. “When you see me at the corner, walk—don’t run or sneak, use your normal stride—across the street, and into my back yard. Go in through the back door; it’s open. Don’t go to your house—they’re watching it. Got it?”
“Yeah.” She turned and sauntered away.
He pried his eyes off her back, then locked the garage. At the end of the alley, he looked both ways, crossed the road, and walked down his sidewalk. Sam strode across the road and disappeared behind his house. At the edge of his property, he retraced his steps to the falling-down back porch. Inside, he locked the back door.
“Where are you putting me?” Sam followed him down the narrow hall, the old floors creaking under their feet.
Trevor grimaced, anticipating her response. “I know you won’t like it, but you’re in my room tonight. I can’t clear enough stuff to make a bedroom habitable, and nothing downstairs has shades.” She spun and glared. He held up a hand. “I’ll get some tomorrow, okay? But tonight, that’s what we’ve got.”
She frowned but put her back against the wall and swept her hand in front of her. “Lead the way.”
He turned the corner, heading upstairs. She followed, the stairs creaking even louder than the hallway. “I’ll show you the emergency escapes, but if you have to sneak down the stairs, stay on the outside edges, and go slow.”
Upstairs, he turned left and led her to the tower bedroom. Inside, he grimaced. “It’s not much.” A queen size mattress on a bare frame, with a sliver of space between it and the massive dresser that had been in the house when he bought it. A bookcase jammed with science fiction novels took up most of the room at the foot of the bed. “The bathroom is on the other side of the stairs. It’s not much either.” He hadn’t renovated either room yet; the mid-century toilet, small sink, and bathtub were all robin’s egg blue.
Sam plopped her backpack down next to the dresser and looked around the tiny bedroom. “It’s good enough. I can put the camping pads at the foot of the bed and sleep there.” She pointed at the two feet of space between the bed and the wall.
Trevor winced. “Except I forgot to grab them from the car.” Taking another midnight stroll would push the boundaries of believable. “I’m sorry. I was concentrating so hard on getting you in here that the rest didn’t stick in my memory.” Poor planning on his part. “Take the bed. There’s a couch downstairs with a blanket.” The couch had also come with the house. Saggy, lumpy, and short, he wouldn’t get much sleep, but he was used to that.
“I told you I wasn’t taking your bed.” Glaring, she put her hands on her hips.
“You can’t go downstairs.” She’d be spotted for sure. “There’s no curtains or blinds. If you’re very careful, you can get into the kitchen. There’s a window above the sink, but it overlooks the side yard. Watch for drones, though.” Of course, if she spotted one, it was probably too late.
She sighed and threw her hands up. “Fine. I’ll sleep here tonight and so will you. I see you limping, so don’t argue.” Bending, she grabbed her backpack. “Are there curtains in the bathroom?”
He scowled at the bed. Sharing would be an exercise in frustration, but she was right. His leg and hip hurt, and he needed a decent night of sleep or his muscles would cramp. “Yes, and the light is on. I leave it on all the time. Take your time. There are plenty of towels in the cupboard, plus razors and other things. Use whatever you need.” She nodded and closed the door, the click of the latch loud.
Water ran, and the fan turned on. Contemplating her in his shower with hot water cascading over her sexy body would be dumb. He groaned, plopping on the edge of the bed and sniffing the sheets. They weren’t dirty, which was good because he only had one set. He should have grabbed the sleeping bag from the car, then there’d be no opportunity to cuddle. Most likely, he’d sabotaged himself, trying to rekindle their romance. A fool’s errand when he had more important things to do and figure out, like how to keep her safe and get some sleep.
Getting up, he retrieved the escape rope, closed the window, then leaned against the dresser. She’d take the side away from the door, so he’d be between her and the most likely avenue of approach. Plus, the dim bathroom light would be just enough for him to get changed and prevent the conversation he wasn’t ready for. He’d probably never be ready, but he definitely couldn’t deal with her pity tonight.
Water shut off, then the door opened, a cloud of steam clearing to reveal Sam, a towel wrapped around her hair, another around her body. Sneaking into her house for fresh clothes took on a new urgency, but the task wasn’t enough of a distraction. Her slim, fit body curved in all the right places, and he longed to hold her close and compare his memory to reality. But that kind of thinking was trouble.
“All yours.” She looked around the bedroom, grimacing at the cabbage rose wallpaper. “At least the hot water works.”
“First thing I replaced was the water heater.” The water was hot on a ship, but rationed; the allowance was never enough. “Anyway, take the far side of the bed, please.” He kept his gaze on the bathroom door, not wanting to know what she was or wasn’t wearing. He pulled clean shorts and a T-shirt from his dresser.
“Not worried about the window?” Fabric rustled.
He shook his head. “I’ve got cameras and motion detectors on the house. Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll turn off the light.”
“Go ahead, I can finish in the dark.” The sheets slid, and the floor creaked.
“Okay.” He flipped the switch and marched to the bathroom, still steamy from her shower. The bathroom was at the back of the house; with no one actively watching the house, it should be safe enough for him to shower, too. He wanted a long, hot soak, but he needed the sleep more.
Pulling up his pant leg, he removed his prosthetic and undressed. Grateful the previous residents had installed grab bars, he hopped into the tub, turned on the shower, and scrubbed. After drying, he took his medications and dressed, then put his fake leg on. Shorts were a bad idea—he should have grabbed sweatpants. He could only hope she’d be asleep.
Turning off the fan, he cracked the door and left, sliding into the bedroom and pulling the sheets down. He turned and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling his prosthetic off, wincing at the sucking noise. Sam shifted, and he froze. She didn’t move again, so he leaned the leg against the wall near the head of the bed and made sure his weapon was in reach, then slid under the sheets.
He rolled onto his side, away from Sam. Hopefully, he’d be too tired to do anything stupid, but better to make sure of it. Breathing slowly and evenly, he wiped everything else from his mind, concentrating on his chest rising and falling and the air moving in and out of his lungs. He faded into blessed sleep.
His shoulder ached and hand tingled, waking him. Opening his eyes, auburn hair glowed, concealing everything else. But feeling was even better than seeing. Sam warmed his front, her neck across his bicep. His right arm pulled her tight, the curve of her waist the perfect resting place for his arm. He wanted to kiss her awake, bringing her even closer, like he would have in the past.
But they weren’t in a relationship and were just getting to know each other again. Wincing, he let go and cautiously slid away, pushing the pillow under Sam’s head, then rolled to sit at the edge of the bed. He grabbed clean pants and a T-shirt and changed in the bathroom, examining his residual limb. No blisters or sores, although his hips were a bit tight from the unusual activities of the last day. Stretching, he left the bathroom and grabbed his gun, trying to avoid looking at the beautiful and tempting woman in his bed. She’d pulled the sheet over her head, making him smile.
