34. Helen
After the party bus drops us off at the Four Seasons (of course Dean wouldn’t use Aunt Linda’s credit card to book a Motel 6), I let Thad work his bounty hunter magic with the clerk at the front desk to see what information he can find out about Dean’s comings and goings. As I wait for him, I scroll through the photos on my phone of Aunt Linda’s credit card bill, trying to put together a little map of all the places that Dean’s been making significant charges. He seems to be staying within a pretty small radius, with most of the charges going toward take-out food, although there are a few places that stand out to me as being unfamiliar. When I do some digging, I find out most of those unfamiliar locations are casinos.
I shake my head. Typical Dean. He breaks his bail, which my parents will likely have to take out a second mortgage to pay, then goes on the lam, using Aunt Linda’s credit card to rack up charges at fancy hotels and casinos like it’s his money to blow through. Of all the inconsiderate people in the world, I think Dean might very well be at the top of the list.
There’s one final charge from a place that I don’t recognize. When I pull up its information online, my eyes widen.
This is it.
Thad rejoins me, looking flustered. He’s doing that thing where he keeps running his hand over the back of his neck, and it makes my heart warm. I feel like I’m looking at the little-kid version of him instead of the tattooed bounty hunter man.
“The front desk clerk was no help. Refused to divulge any information about customers, blah, blah, blah.”
I refrain from reminding him that it’s part of that poor woman’s job not to give out information about customers, since he looks so put out by the rejection. “Aww,” I tease him, unable to help being amused by his predicament. “I bet you’re used to batting those blue-gray eyes and getting whatever you want.”
Those blue-gray eyes narrow in on me, at first looking a little annoyed with my teasing. But then his expression shifts as something seems to occur to him. “Blue gray? Is that what color my eyes are?”
Too late, I realize that this is the exact color I used to describe Axel’s eyes, when I read my chapter out loud to the writing group. Axel, who is not-so-loosely based on Thad himself. It didn’t occur to me until right this moment that Thad wouldn’t already know his eyes were blue gray, but I guess you don’t really think of your own eyes in those terms, since you don’t spend a long period of time staring into them, getting lost in them…
“Um,” I hedge, averting my own eyes. “They’re in the blue category, for sure.”
When I dare a glance back at Thad, he is studying me with a ghost of a smile on his face. “Believe me, blue-gray eyes or not, I don’t get everything I want. Not on the first try, anyway.”
What does that mean? I’m not entirely sure, but even so, I feel like someone has just sent an electric jolt straight to my core.
Flushing, I avert my gaze to the screen of my phone, trying to steady myself. This is why we’re here. To find Dean, not to do—whatever we’re doing.
“I found something,” I tell him briskly, trying to keep my tone businesslike. I start to hold out the phone for him to look at it, but instead he comes over, right behind me, his chest pressing up against my back, his closeness making every nerve in my body stand on high alert. Shaking, but trying not to show it, I angle the screen up so he can see it. “Dean’s made multiple charges to something called the Carolina Belle. When I looked it up, this is what I found.”
“A floating casino,” Thad murmurs, and he’s so close to me I can feel the words vibrating through my skin.
“A floating casino that’s docked a few blocks away. Dean seems to be spending an awful lot of time there.” More so than any of the other casinos on the bill. There’s no guarantee he’ll go back to the Carolina Belle, of course, but if we’re going to start anywhere…
“I need to be on that boat tonight,” Thad says, drawing the same conclusion—well, partly.
I whirl around to face him, eyes wide at his audacity. “We need to be on that boat.”
“Helen,” he warns me through gritted teeth.
It’s amazing to me how not two seconds ago my entire body was trembling because of his proximity, and now I’m so irritated that he could be standing in front of me totally naked, and the only thing that would matter would be making sure he admits that I’m right. “Don’t Helen me. I found this information. I’m the one who knew how to find Dean at all. Without me you’d still be back in Chicago, checking out books that you’re pretending to read and hoping he might randomly turn up.”
Thad narrows his eyebrows at me. “Let me count the reasons why it would be a bad idea for you to come along. One, you’re a civilian. I’m a trained, licensed bounty hunter. Two, Dean will recognize you the moment he sees you and might get spooked back into hiding. He doesn’t know who I am or what I look like. And three, yesterday you were almost kidnapped. If I’m on a crowded boat looking for Dean, how am I supposed to keep my eye on you, too?”
The ire I feel rising after each of his first two points unexpectedly deflates at his last question. I know that maybe I should be belligerent, insisting I can take care of myself, that he won’t need to look after me, but I’m sensible enough to know this probably isn’t true. I don’t have any training. And I would stick out like a sore thumb, in more ways than one. Aside from the obvious fact that Dean (and anyone looking for him) would likely recognize me, all of my clothes were stolen, and I’m stuck in the same jeans and sweater I’ve been wearing for two days. Plus it’s not really the attire I think they’re going for on a fancy floating casino, where the low-stakes bid is more than one month of my rent.
“Then what am I supposed to do?” I ask, feeling frustrated and helpless. “Just go on a ghost tour and eat beignets like my brother’s life isn’t in danger?”
Thad rubs the back of his neck again—that telltale sign I now realize is buildup to him telling me something I’ll likely not want to hear. “You need to stay at the hotel.” At my jaw drop, he holds up his hands and hastens to add, “At least for tonight. Once Dean is back in custody, I can take you wherever you want in the city, I promise. But until then…”
“I’m still kidnappable,” I finish for him, realizing the sense in what he’s saying, but not happily. After everything we’ve been through to get here, it feels like an anticlimactic ending, just sitting in the hotel watching TV while I wait for Thad to find Dean and hope that everything turns out okay.
But at the end of the day, I’m a former nun turned librarian. I don’t have any experience with apprehending bail jumpers. I’m not dressed to gamble on a luxury steamboat. And I don’t want to get kidnapped by the mafia.
“Fine,” I sigh, deflated, following him to the elevator. “I hope this place has the Hallmark channel…”
Thad lingers with me in the room for a few minutes, probably because he’s afraid I’m trying to trick him; but finally, after I settle in to watch a movie with that actor I like from that show I used to watch, he grumbles about getting ready and disappears into the bathroom.
About half an hour later, the door to the bathroom opens again. I’m absorbed in my movie now and trying not to sulk, so I do my best to smile as I glance back toward him. “What time are—” I start, but the words cut off abruptly as I absorb what I’m seeing.
Thad’s skin, fresh out of the shower, is glistening, his hair still a little damp but starting to dry in its usual soft waves. Along with his reading glasses, he’s wearing a pair of pressed slacks and a dress shirt that’s been unbuttoned down to his sternum, showing off a modest glimpse of chest that nonetheless gets my virginal heart racing. The sleeves of the shirt have been rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms, marked with dark tattoos that contrast his otherwise preppy look with a hint of something dangerous.
I’m staring. I know I’m staring. I try to stop, to get a grip on myself, but he cuts such a dashing, handsome figure that I feel a little shy. And a little pervy, too, because those exposed forearms are doing something to me. I feel sort of…tingly, in my lady parts. My entire body is alert and aware, like something is about to happen.
Which of course, it isn’t, because he’s about to go to the steamboat to find Dean, and I’m…staying here. All night.
“I look stupid, dont I?” Thad asks flatly.
I bark out a sharp laugh, because wow, has he misinterpreted my staring. “No. Not stupid. Different, but definitely not stupid.”
My voice must actually sound as winded to him as it does to my own ears, because Thad’s expression shifts. For a moment he frowns at me in that way I used to think was disapproving, but I now realize is just him concentrating—and then, unexpectedly, he grins at me.
I realize in that instant how infrequently Thad has smiled at me in all the time I’ve known him, because that smile, directed right at me, hits me like a freight train. If I thought the outfit was doing something to me, that smile knocks the rest of it out of the water. I would do anything he asked me to do when he smiles at me like that—and that recognition both thrills and terrifies me.
“So you like it?” he asks me, breaking what I realize is an unnaturally long silence as I’ve been staring at him.
“Y-yeah?” I’m trying to play it cool, not let on just how much I like it, but I don’t have much practice and am not very good at playing these kinds of games. “I wouldn’t have guessed you owned anything like this.”
“Part of the job. Have to be able to blend in.” He gestures to his shirt. “The collar’s a little funny, though. Can you help me straighten it?”
“Oh.” The surprised squeaking noise escapes my mouth without me giving it permission. I clear my throat. “Sure. Yeah. Fine.”
I step toward him and am overcome with another wave of want as I get close enough to smell his cologne. Holy cannoli. I barely manage to catch myself from swaying into him, pulled toward his skin like a magnet. Nice-smelling men are nice, is the coherent, Pulitzer Prize–worthy thought that comes to mind.
Swallowing, I attempt to keep my focus on his collar. My hands are shaking as I flatten out the little crease in the back, and I hope he doesn’t notice. “There. That’s better.”
I start to step back, but Thad stops me with a hand on my hip, holding me in place. The touch is light, not demanding or possessive, but it still elicits a gasp of surprise at the contact. I meet his blue-gray gaze, my heart thudding so loudly in my chest I’m sure he must hear it.
“You like me like this?” he asks.
There’s teasing in his voice, but also a hint of something vulnerable. He’s smiling, but his eyes move back and forth between mine as he waits for the answer. “I like you always,” I tell him honestly. I’m too flustered to be anything but completely honest. “This is just…a new flavor.”
The answer must satisfy him, because his expression relaxes. “When all of this is over, I’ll take you out to dinner. In whatever flavor you like. If you want.”
It’s my turn to study him, doing my best to keep the worry off my face. This energy between us feels like fireworks, chemistry, all the things I’ve read about but never experienced, but I’m still afraid that because of my inexperience, I’ll read into things, see things that aren’t there. My knee-jerk response is to laugh, give him an easy out, but again this proximity between us seems to force honesty out of me. “Like a date?”
I wait for him to frown, step away from me, but he holds his ground, and my gaze. “If that’s the flavor you want from me.”
Now I’m the one to frown at him. Why does all of this—attraction, desire, feelings—have to be so complicated? Why don’t people just say what they mean? “Is that the flavor you want from me?” I challenge back.
Thad’s eyes drop down to my lips, then lower. He swallows heavily before meeting my gaze again. “I want to taste whatever you’re willing to let me taste.”
My jaw drops. Heat floods my cheeks, my body, as the words sink in. He grins at me again, squeezing the hip he’s holding on to, before he abruptly steps back and lets me go. “Think about it. Get back to me.”
And with that, he’s gone.