“I’m surprised Susan didn’t tell you.”
“I guess she was protecting Easton. I also haven’t seen much of you guys.”
Dad sighed. “Sorry about that. I know we’re busy.”
“I’m also at Easton’s office all day long, too.”
“True. He’s not working you too hard, is he?”
I blushed slightly and looked away. The memory of Easton’s shirtless body walking through the main office space, of him pressed against me, kissing me, whispering in my ear, it made me have to cross my legs.
“No. It’s fine.”
“Good.”
Dad went back to cooking and I was lost in my own thoughts, trying to imagine what Easton was going through.
I couldn’t decide if I was really in danger or not. I knew that there were real murders happening nearby, but Lester Seed was dead. If it was someone else involved, could they even know of my existence?
Finally, Dad finished the meal. It was this decadent pasta dish with vegetables all covered in an amazing sauce. We dug in together, chatting about pretty much nothing. He talked about his work and I told him some more details about being a private detective. He was surprised by how boring the whole thing actually was.
It felt good to be talking so comfortably with my dad after so many years apart. I had dreaded this moment, when I’d finally be alone with him and have to interact, but it was actually totally fine. I realized that I didn’t hate him, or even dislike him, and that I was glad to be home.
We cleaned the dishes together, joking about the old days. By the time we were finished, I was surprised to see that it was already ten at night.
“Well,” Dad said, finishing his drink. “Time for this old man to sleep.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll finish up down here.”
“Thanks, kiddo.” He kissed my forehead. “I’m really glad you’re home.”
“Me too, Dad.”
“Night.” He turned and walked upstairs.
I began to finish straightening up, drying dishes, when I was suddenly intensely aware that I was completely alone.
I wasn’t very comfortable in the house yet. It just wasn’t what I was used to. It was nice, but it wasn’t home. And so standing there alone in the kitchen after thinking so long about murders and serial killers, suddenly I felt a weird little crawling sensation down my spine.
Like someone was watching me.
I shook my head. That was stupid. I was getting worked up about nothing. I grabbed my phone but had no messages. I was almost done cleaning up; I could retreat to my room soon enough.
As I put the last dish away, I heard it. It sounded like the front door creaking open and shut, but that couldn’t be right.
Had I locked it earlier? I wasn’t sure. I walked toward the short hall that led out to the front foyer, my heart beginning to beat steadily in my chest.
Every floorboard creaked underfoot. The walls loomed large, and I swore I saw shadows moving out of the corner of my eye.
I was being stupid. There wasn’t a serial killer coming in the front door.
“Hey, sis.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin. I let out a short little gasp and took a step backward, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Easton!” I said. “You asshole. You scared me.”
He smirked hugely, coming into the kitchen. “Good. Just means you’re on your toes.”
He was lugging a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, but he looked tired, even more tired than usual.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him.
He dropped the bag on the ground. “Well,” he said, “I’m moving in.”
I stared at him for a second, shock mixing with fear. I remembered the kiss, remembered the danger. “Are you serious?”
He nodded. “Just for a little bit. Just while I’m working this case.”
I cocked my head. “Why?”
He shrugged, avoiding the question. “Nicer here. I can concentrate better.”
“I don’t need you to protect me,” I said quickly.
“Not everything is about you, princess,” he said, smirking at me.
I wanted to wipe that delicious grin off his face. I wanted to kiss his lips, make him throw me down against the island and finally feel his fingers against my bare skin.
But I knew I couldn’t. Especially not in my father’s house.
“I’m going to bed,” I said.
“Good. Exactly what I wanted to do.”
“Alone.”
He shrugged as he followed me up the stairs, carrying the bag. “I’ll be right next door,” he said as he walked down the hall. “For when you change your mind.”
I paused outside my door. “Look, about earlier—”