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She grins. “Sandbox to casket. Love you.”

I end the call and bend over the sink, scrubbing off the bright green clay mask. Thank God I’m in loungewear and not my actual pajamas. Harley has a thing for ugly pajamas she thinks are cute and bought me a short set with cartoon singing waffles all over them to bring with me. I’ve never been so grateful for a cropped hoodie and leggings before. Not that I’m bothered what Dax thinks. But he is my boss, and well… singing waffles.

There’s a knock at the door. I grab a towel and scrub my face dry, tossing it onto the side of the sink so I can go answer it.

How does he get everywhere so fast?

I open the door, and there he is. Black shirt open at the neck, blond waves pushed back off his face, and deep brown eyes that connect with mine instantly.

He fills the doorway, the scent of his aftershave floating into the cottage and making me inhale a little slower. A little deeper.

He smells heady, and dark, and… expensive. The way he smells at work. It’s different to how he smelled last night when he dropped me back in the dark. Last night, he smelled warm. Of warm skin that had gotten out of bed. It was his smell. His own scent.

“You going to let me come inside?”

“It’s not a problem. I don’t want to interrupt whatever it is you’re doing.” I look at his suit again and the way the black open collar makes his neck tattoo look even more incredible. The leaves, the bird’s feathered wings. So intricate.So beautiful.

“What I’m doing right now is waiting for you to invite me in, Rose.” His eyes stay fixed on mine. “Do you want my help or not?”

So we’re back to moody, sarcastic Dax again?I would love to throw a comeback at him. But I want his help. I need to call Casey back and laugh as we scare ourselves stupid watching a horror movie together. I want to not think about anything else for a blissful ninety-five minutes.

I open the door wider, and he raises a brow at me.

“Yes.” I hold his gaze. “I want it.”

Chapter 8

Dax

Rosestandsnexttome, so close I can smell her.Vanilla and fucking petals.Why couldn’t Daisy have asked me to give a guy a job for a while? Not a tall, blonde with shapely legs I can finally see all the way to the top of in the pair of skintight leggings and short hoodie she’s wearing. A blonde with a smart mouth and a smart mind.

Her hair is piled on top of her head today with strands falling around her face. And she’s not wearing any makeup. The urge to wrap her up and protect her hits me like a sledgehammer. She shouldn’t be here. She doesn’t belong anywhere near the shadows I exist alongside. The world I inhabit would be like black tar on white silk for her. Sticky, insipid, ruining the hint of purity and innocence her eyes still hold. Even though she tries to hide it, I see it. Rose Jacobs has a pure heart with pure intentions. Something that doesn’t mix with my world.

She’s chewing on her bottom lip, humming gently as she watches me flick through the TV settings with the remote. I tense my jaw to stop myself from telling her to stop.

To stop fucking torturing me.

I alter the TV’s automatic shutoff timer back to ‘off,’ so it won’t keep turning off, and then scroll through to the movies.

“What were you trying to put on?”

“Oh.” Her brows shoot up. “That one.”

She points to a horror movie I’ve seen. One where a woman is made to watch as each of her friends are ended in front of her, and then told to run as the killer counts down, giving her a brief head start in the deserted snowy town they’re in.

“Really? Not a rom-com girl, then?”

“Did I ever give that impression?” She huffs, crossing her arms and making her hoodie ride up, exposing a flash of smooth stomach.

“With that smart mouth? No.” I avert my gaze and set the movie up so all she needs to do is click play.

“What? Horror movies are more realistic.”

“You think you’re more likely to be chopped up by a psycho with an axe than fall in love?”

She turns to face me head-on; her arms still firmly crossed over her chest like a shield.

“Movie love doesn’t exist. Fairytales don’t exist. But murderers and psychos are real,” she says, as though that explains everything.

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