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He laughs under me. It goes through him and shakes me. His hands rub my back in soothing circles.
“Shh, just relax and rest. We’ll take it nice and slow.”
After a moment - the longest one of my life - he rolls us slowly so that he is over me. He comes up on his forearms and looks down into my face.
“How are you feeling, baby?”
“Embarrassed. Mortified. Is there another name for intense social death?”
He chuckles, “No worries, baby. I’m not going to tell anyone and it could be worse…you could have thrown up on me.”
His words make me whimper again.
“Come on and let me cook you some breakfast, sweets.”
I follow him out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. It really is a lovely area, and the solarium is just begging for someone to come in and spruce it up. I talk to him while he makes us breakfast. We talk about houses and pugs, class, and both of our jobs. What we don’t talk about is what happened and what led to me being here.
It’s all so normal that when my mom calls it takes me a second to realize what she is talking about when she asks me about my head and how the undercover work is going. I talk to her for a moment before telling her what I’m up to. As soon as she finds out I am having breakfast with Gareth, she wants to let me go.
“What are you doing on the phone with me?”
“What? You called me.”
“Yeah, but that was before I knew you were breaking your fast with hot cop. Go, eat, and enjoy the view.”
“Mom!” I cannot believe this woman. As soon as she found out I was safe, she starts back up with the ‘hot cop’ thing.
“Go.”
When I turn back after letting Mom go, I can immediately tell something’s not right.
“What? What is it? Has something happened?”
“That was my Captain. He…he wants us to come in…Old Man Huxley’s been killed.”
I stand in front of him, stunned at the news he’s just given me. “What?”
I grab hold of the island to keep from falling as I sway a little.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Take it easy, baby. Take it slow.” He helps me sit and takes several deep breaths with me until I get a hold of myself a little better.
“M…Mr. Huxley is dead.”
He nods. “I…this is all my fault.”
He takes my face between his hands, “No! This is the killers’ fault - not yours. You have nothing to feel guilty about. At all.”
“But if he hadn’t helped me…”
“Then you would be dead too. They still could have killed him even if he hadn’t come out to help after the wreck. They could have gone to his house to take another car or anything. This is not your fault. Anyone who has seen these men are in danger, baby. That’s why we have to stop them. Together. And it’s not going to help Mr. Huxley if we don’t stay focused and put the blame where the blame needs to go.”
I give him a nod even as my eyes fill with tears over the older man who came to my distress. He shocks me when he lowers his head and gives me a quick peck on the lips. He turns away just as fast and I’m left wondering what that kiss means. Was he just doing it to help sell the undercover thing? To whom, since it’s just me and him here? Or was it something more?
I spend the next two hours talking with Gareth’s captain and his partner, Waylen, as well as a sketch artist. Going through my mind are the questions about that kiss and by the time we're back home I am exhausted.
“I’m going to take a shower. Is that okay?”
“Absolutely. Keep the door open so I can get to you if something happens.”
