Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Theo
We slept in late the next morning, late enough that when I snuck out of Esther’s bed to go home and give the cat her breakfast, Toni sliced open my forearm.
I swore—colorfully and at great length—as I cleaned the wound, then glared at the feline before returning to the guest house and the soft, sleepy woman under the covers.
She was just beginning to stir, but she noticed the scratch immediately.
“You know, we can stay at the house instead,” she told me as she inspected it. “She’s probably lonely.”
I laughed, but Esther’s willingness to venture out of her little bubble of safety here warmed me through and through. “If you’re sure, we can head over there later. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, but I wondered if you were open to the idea.”
“As I recall, your bed was quite lovely,” she teased.
Propping myself on one elbow to gaze down at her, I gave a solemn nod. “And your body spread across it was even lovelier.”
We lingered in Esther’s bed until lunchtime, showered together, then returned to the house to try to soothe the ginger beast’s loneliness.
Esther cooed over her as soon as we walked in, which resulted in losing half an hour to the queen’s demands for attention.
When the cat finally decided she was done with affection, she retreated to her favorite sunny windowsill.
Finally free, I tugged a giggling Esther upstairs and reminded her of my plans for the day. As I planted a line of kisses across her belly, I said, “Today. You. Are. Mine.”
Very wisely, she did not disagree.
By the time the sun started to set outside the window, we were sprawled across the bed in a boneless tangle.
The color scheme in here was a perfect backdrop for the sated woman beside me, calm and soothing, changing her eyes from silver to topaz to icy green in the span of a moment.
My fingers swirled idly along her spine, drawing goosebumps and an occasional ticklish shiver, but she just nestled closer until her head rested right over my heart.
Throughout my entire life, I’d always been a light sleeper.
I remembered creeping into my parents’ room after hearing the first low rumble of thunder or an odd whistle of the wind or the bang of a car door closing.
As an adult, I still woke often during the night, though fortunately I’d long since learned how to get myself back to sleep.
With Esther? I slept like a log.
She often shifted away from me during the night, which I attributed to both valuing her own space and overheating when we were wrapped around one another, but even her movements didn’t wake me.
As a result, when I blinked myself awake in the morning light the next day, I felt like I’d just gone under anesthesia or experienced a time jump.
Esther was still fast asleep at my side, her hands tucked under her chin.
For several long minutes, I debated whether I should stay there until she woke up or go make us some breakfast. There was nothing more enticing than her sleepy smile when she reached for me, sometimes just to snuggle until her brain kicked into gear, sometimes to guide me into her for a slow, lazy round of lovemaking.
Still, the last few days had taken their toll on her, especially being “on” in public the other night, and I wanted to be sure she got enough rest to fully recover.
With the decision made, I eased out of bed, tugged the curtains more tightly closed, and crept downstairs.
I fed Toni, who graced me with a swish of her tail instead of a flash of claws, and had just started scouring the cupboards when an insistent buzz came from somewhere behind me.
For a second, I was convinced there was a bee in the kitchen, until I remembered Esther had tossed her phone onto the table when Toni demanded love the day before.
I intended to just hit the decline button and tell her about it when she woke up, but when I saw private number flashing across the screen, I remembered her comment about the prank calls.
Instead of declining, I answered it, hoping that the sound of my deep voice instead of Esther’s would scare the caller straight.
“Hello?” When no one spoke, I snapped, “Who the hell is this and why are you calling?”
The sound of heavy breathing came through the line and a surge of fury rose in me. There was no response to my questions, and after another few seconds, the caller hung up.
I swore under my breath, pulled out my own phone, and texted Oliver. One of our high school friends, Rose Hanson, was a detective on Spruce Hill’s tiny police squad. I remembered Ollie mentioning her years ago, telling me she’d become the department’s tech expert.
Fortunately, Oliver wasn’t bumming around the way I was; he was already at work at the bank he managed in town.
His reply came quickly, and though I could tell he was curious, he didn’t ask any questions about why I wanted Rose’s number.
I thanked him, promised I’d update him after I had more information, and called her.
“Detective Hanson,” she said when she answered the phone.
“Rose, hey. It’s Theo Silver. I hope you remember me, or else this is going to get super awkward.”
She laughed, the same deep, booming laugh I’d always loved to hear in the middle of the cafeteria at school.
“Theo, I don’t think a single person in this town has forgotten you.
As much as I’d like to pretend this is you calling to apologize for knocking out my first loose tooth on the playground when we were six, I’m going to assume it’s not a social call. What’s up?”
“Oh, right. Well, I am sorry about that, actually. I’m calling for Esther Malek, though. She’s been getting some creepy phone calls, and a vaguely threatening email came through recently. I wondered if there’s anything you can do to help us figure out who’s behind it.”
“I can try,” she said, sounding a little skeptical, “but no promises. Can you bring the phone by the station today?”
I assured her we would make time for it, like our busy schedule didn’t consist solely of meals and sex, and thanked her profusely.
Feeling better about the whole prank call situation, I returned to the pantry to triple check the ingredients list on a box of pancake mix.
I set it aside to start a pot of coffee, then pulled out the rest of what I needed and started whisking.
As though summoned by the aroma of fresh coffee, Esther came plodding into the kitchen in bare feet and a fuzzy pink bathrobe she’d brought with her. I paused to appreciate the view.
“You look like you should be wearing bunny slippers right now,” I said as I left my batter on the counter to run my hands over the plush fabric of the robe.
“I like to be cozy,” she said primly, but she buried her face in my chest. “Good morning.”
I kissed the top of her head and gestured to the ingredients I’d lined up along the countertop. “I checked everything, but I wanted to make sure it’s all safe. And, obviously, I hope you like pancakes.”
From our previous meals together, I’d gotten the distinct impression that Steve “The Asshole” Pautler had never lifted a finger in the kitchen, nor ever really taken her allergies into consideration.
She blinked rapidly at the line of items, like she was swallowing back tears, then inspected each box and container.
“All good, and I love pancakes,” she whispered.
“Hey,” I said softly, pulling her back into my arms. “It’s okay.”
Esther nodded against my shoulder. “It’s more than okay, it’s great. Thank you. Not just for the pancakes, but for being great.”
“You deserve great.”
“I’m just not used to it,” she admitted. “Steve was…well. Not great.”
With one finger, I tipped her chin up and kissed her gently. She was still sleepy and sweet, practically melting against me. I didn’t let her go until I was positive she’d stopped thinking about the son of a bitch she’d married.
“Why don’t you sit and have some coffee while I make these?” I suggested.
I watched from the corner of my eye as she poured a mug of coffee, stirred in cream and sugar, and trudged toward the table. It was only when her eyes landed on the phone that I remembered I needed to tell her about the call.
To my great relief, she seemed annoyed but not concerned. When I explained about Rose, one side of her mouth curved upward.
“Detective Hanson was the first one to show up when Steve died,” she said.
I thought I’d learned my lesson as far as talking about him, but given that opening, I had to ask. “How did he actually die?”
“Aneurysm.”
She said it simply, like she’d explained it a dozen times, and maybe she had. Knowing Spruce Hill, I wouldn’t be surprised.
“And the rumor that you killed him, where the hell did that come in?”
Now her lips tipped up in earnest, though she appeared to be fighting the smile. “I might have gotten tired of being interrogated by townsfolk,” she hedged.
My jaw dropped. “You sneaky little minx. You encouraged the rumor, didn’t you?” When her pink-clad shoulders lifted and fell with dainty nonchalance, I snorted out a laugh. “Oh, Oliver would pay good money for that little detail, you know. What do you say we go halfsies?”
She laughed, cradling her coffee mug between her hands. “It’s a deal.”
As we settled in to eat breakfast together, I wondered why this felt so good, so right.
I might have ended all my relationships well before we moved in together, but it wasn’t like I’d never spent the night with a woman I was dating.
Hell, Annabelle and I had spent a week together in the Florida Keys a couple years ago, a month before I reminded her I wasn’t looking to get married and she dumped my ass.
I’d made that clear to every partner right from the beginning, because I wouldn’t risk fucking up someone else’s life the way I once had.
Still, I couldn’t quite pinpoint why such mundane things seemed so natural when it came to Esther, as though they were simply meant to be.
I must have been staring blankly down at my empty plate for longer than intended, because when I glanced up, Esther was watching me with those silky black brows drawn almost together over her pale eyes.
“Everything okay?” she asked, her tone light despite the concern written across her features.
“Yes, totally fine. This is just…really nice. I like being around you.” The words sounded stupid as soon as they left my mouth, but her expression eased.
“It is nice,” she agreed. “You’re pretty handy to have around, you know.”
For at least a short while, I would bask in the blessedly normal joy of having breakfast with the beautiful woman sitting across from me. Real life could remain tucked into a little box to be dealt with some other time.