13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
DYLAN
Why was I making hot toddies at one in the morning? The last thing I needed was whiskey. But then again, maybe that was exactly what I needed. Along with a reminder that my job was to protect her. Not to ogle her the way I had upstairs when her nipples were poking through her thin tank top.
Jesus. I needed to get my head on straight. It was much easier to push aside my attraction to her before I knew it was two-sided. But the way her skin flushed when Savannah asked that last question confirmed it. Had the shit-stirring sibling been this relentless when Jackson and Ashley were fighting their attraction to each other?
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and a moment later, she padded into the kitchen behind me.
“Here.” I turned and handed her one warm mug.
Our fingers brushed as she took it from me. The sensation did nothing to quiet the need coursing through me. At least she had a sweatshirt on.
“Thanks.” Head tilted to the side, she smiled.
I nodded. “You’re welcome.”
“Sorry I woke you.”
“You didn’t.” I was so engrossed with my search into possible suspects that I hadn’t realized how late it was. Then I’d gotten sucked into an episode of Perfect Wife . “I was watching TV.”
I left it at that. No use getting her worked up about the stalker situation again.
“Oh.” She brought the cup of warm whiskey to her lips and took a sip. “What were you watching?”
“A true crime documentary.”
Her nose wrinkled in the cutest way. “You watch that crap?”
Agitation stirred in my gut. My ex used to complain about how dumb those kinds of shows were. She would never watch them, and any time I tried, she would make snide comments. I supposed I shouldn’t be surprised that Hattie had a similar opinion.
“It’s like an addiction.” I shrugged. “If it’s on, I get sucked in.”
There was a pull there. To solve the mystery.
She chuckled. “That’s how I am with The Kardashians .”
A scoff escaped me before I could stop it. “That’s worse.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s debatable. At least mine’s entertaining.”
I slipped my free hand into the pocket of my sweats. “If you say so.”
“Want to put one on while we drink our whiskey?”
“ The Kardashians ?”
“No.” She giggled, “True crime. Might bore me enough to lull me back to sleep.” With a smirk, she spun, and my eyes locked on to her ass. Round and perfect, and the bottom of each cheek played a game of peek-a-boo with the hem of her almost nonexistent shorts.
I stood in the middle of the kitchen for several heartbeats, just staring at her, before I forced my feet to move. When we were settled side by side on the sofa, I cued up the episode that I’d started upstairs and turned the volume down a bit, assuming she’d prefer a little background noise over actually focusing on the show. But ten minutes in, she was asking questions and trying to understand the case and its details.
“It was the husband. It’s always the husband.”
I shook my head but kept my mouth shut. She obviously wasn’t familiar with the real news story and its outcome.
“Really? It’s not the husband?”
“I don’t want to give it away.”
With a huff, she turned back to the TV, pulled her legs up under her, and took another sip of her drink. The movement caused her to lean closer, and as the smell of fresh rain hit me, I breathed in deep.
After the episode had ended, she shifted a little closer. “Do they find the women who kidnapped her?”
Our thighs brushed, sending a spark of electricity through me. Swallowing, I worked to recall her question.
I blinked. “Want to watch the next episode and find out?”
“Sure.” She leaned forward to grab the remote from the coffee table, her long hair brushing my forearm.
I should scoot away, but being in her space, breathing in the smell of fresh rain, was intoxicating.
“I’m still not tired, and now I want to know what happens.”
I leaned back and settled in deeper. She followed suit, slumping against the back of the couch and almost into the crook of my arm.
“I thought it was going to bore you to sleep.”
“Shut up and push play.” Smirking, she held the remote out to me.
This time, she only made it about halfway through the episode before her head drooped, landing on my shoulder, and let out a tiny, adorable snore.
I let her stay there, not wanting to wake her. It felt good, so fucking good, and it was innocent enough. After the things Savannah had said tonight, I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to be with Hattie. Hold her like this any time I wanted. Kiss her, touch her.
But none of that mattered. I’d never know. She was my best friend’s sister and the woman I had been charged with protecting.
I slid out from under her, easing her down so she was lying on her side, then covered her with a blanket. I didn’t want to risk waking her, but I also couldn’t leave her down here by herself.
So it looked like I was sleeping on the couch for the second night in a row.