She laughs, but I can see the color in her cheeks deepening. “There’s nothing wrong with a good ending, Harrison, and we got one of the best.”
“You wait and see, Tatum. This isn’t over. This is just our beginning.”
17
Tatum
New York - Four and a half years later . . .
I return to the scene of the first passion-filled crime to get my panties off the floor, but they’re not there. I look further into the living room and behind me toward my bedroom just in case they got kicked somewhere. There’s no sign of them anywhere. I even check the spare room I currently use as my purse and shoe closet.
Not in there either. “Have you seen my underwear, Harrison? I can’t find them anywhere.”
“Check my jeans,” he calls from the bedroom.
Walking into the bedroom, I ask, “Why would they be in your jeans?”
“I was going to keep them.”
“Why?” I stop at the end of the bed. “As a souvenir? To add to your sordid panty collection you have back in California?”
Looking the way he does, I’d be easily lured if he offered me candy or anything for that matter. Hell, he doesn’t even have to entice me. I’m a willing volunteer. He grumbles, “Why do I feel like this is leading me back to the candy murderer accusation?”
“I didn’t accuse you of using candy to lure innocent victims into your murdering lair. Nor am I accusing you of sewing panties together to make a girlfriend.”
His eyebrows are raised in shock like this stuff doesn’t happen, and he says, “Your dirty mind may be a complete fucking turn-on, but damn, you get dark.”
“I didn’t come up with this stuff. I listened to a podcast that was that exact thing.”
“You might want to lay off the true crime for a while.”
“You’re probably right. I can’t even look at a banana anymore without thinking a milkman is going to shove it in my tailpipe and kill me with it.”
His brows knit together, and he stares at me like I’m the milkman. “Do milkmen even exist anymore? And are we talking cars or human tailpipes?”
“They exist in the Midwest. Remind me never to go there. As for the tailpipe, you don’t want to know.”
“Yes, Tatum, you’re much safer in New York City,” he replies sarcastically and then has the nerve to laugh it off. He only knows what he hears on the TV. Stereotypes and I’m sure just the bad stuff. My city is my second love. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.
But that does beg the question: What is my first love?
That remains to be seen. I’ve been reserving that spot for when it’s revealed to me.
I’m starting to sound like Natalie’s sister-in-law, Juni, or her mother-in-law, Cookie. Even Natalie dabbles in destiny. She claims that’s what brought her and Nick together.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. Snapping out of my thoughts, I didn’t realize I’d been staring at Harrison the entire time.
I bend down and discover my thong tucked into the pocket of his jeans. “Nothing. Just a lot on my mind.”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
Holding it by the hip band, I teasingly reply, “We might need to discuss this panty problem you have,” and then swing it around the tip of my finger. “If you really want them, you can have them.”
He’s chuckling. “You make it sound so pervy that I can’t even enjoy it now.”
I don’t even know what he’s talking about, but I didn’t mean to out his fetish. “Before I enable this habit, how many pairs have you stolen?”
Resting back, he tucks his hands behind his head, amused. “None. Yours were the only ones, and I know you won’t believe me, but I just tucked them in my pocket so they wouldn’t get dirty on the floor.”
As thoughtful as that is, I cross my arms over my chest and study him with narrowed eyes. It’s not hard to do as the guy is drop-dead gorgeous. I’ll play it up anyway. “Suspicious.”
“I can imagine since you’re into all that stuff.”
“I was going to add, but believable.” I bend down and tuck them back in his pocket. I didn’t actually care if he was stealing them. I just wanted in on one of his dirty little secrets. “Your honesty kind of took the fun out of it.”
“You are so kinky, Devreux. Now get your ass in this bed, and let’s binge-watch a show.”
The covers are lifted for me when I approach. I climb under and snuggle against his side, resting my hand on his abdomen. “Binge-watching a show together is next level, right after hanging out.”
“Is that so?” He bends his neck to the side to look into my eyes. “I’m ready. Are you?”
When his arm tightens around me, holding me so close that I may never want to leave this cocoon, I reply, “So ready.”