How the Hitman Stole Christmas - Sam Mariano Page 0,87
on the souvenir racks. I bought it so she’d have something to sleep in at my mom’s, and she did sleep in it one night in Stillwater. That’s why it smells like her.
I should let her keep it. I bought it for her, after all.
But if a shirt that smells like her is the only fragment of her I get to keep… well, then I’m going to.
I snatch the shirt and hide the truck under her clothes, then I zip her bag back up and take the shirt to my room so I can stash it before she gets out of the shower.
Despite the grimy film of discomfort that lingers all night, the hours slip away like minutes. Autumn falls asleep on the couch while we’re watching a movie to pass the time. She looks so peaceful, I don’t bother waking her.
I turn everything off as quietly as I can and make sure the path to my bedroom is clear, then I scoop her up and carry her in to bed.
Her eyes flutter open as I ease her down on the mattress. She wakes up enough to shift her body weight as I pull the covers out from under her and drag them up over her.
I tuck the blanket in around her body so she stays warm. “Good night, Autumn.”
“Wait.” She grabs my wrist just as I’m about to pull away. I look into her eyes. She’s sleepy and foggy, and the unguardedness of that state has made her sweet and vulnerable again. “You can sleep in the bed if you want.”
It’s a nice offer, but not one I can take advantage of. Leaning down, I drop a lingering kiss to her forehead. “No, I can’t.”
She doesn’t say anything as I pull back, just lays there in my bed and looks up at me with her big, irresistible blue eyes.
Leaving that room is the hardest thing I’ve had to do in a while. I pull the door shut behind me and wait for it to latch, just to make sure I keep myself out.
I don’t sleep much all night. It’s not the couch that’s uncomfortable; it’s being so close to her, yet so far away. I finally nod off for a longer stretch right around the time the morning sun starts shining through my window.
I let Autumn sleep in. She told me when she needed to be at the airport, so I know she has time. When she wakes up, I make her breakfast. I knew I didn’t have what I needed to cook anything when we got back last night, but I ran to the store while she slept, grabbed some bread and eggs. I make her French toast. It was always my favorite growing up, and my sisters loved when I used to make it for them.
Just in case the post-holiday traffic at the airport is bad, we leave a little earlier than we need to. Lines at security might be long.
I think about parking and escorting her as far as I can take her myself, but I end up deciding it’ll probably be easier on both of us if I drop her at the door.
I pull up to the curb behind a black SUV with its blinkers on. A couple stands behind the vehicle, their arms wrapped around each other tightly, their faces mashed together as they say goodbye.
The mood in the car grows a touch more awkward. Autumn shifts and starts fiddling with her purse. I get annoyed when the woman behind the SUV caresses her partner’s face and make a rash decision to drive around them. A car honks behind me as I cut them off. I dart a glance in my rearview, but they shouldn’t drive fast through here anyway, so I don’t bother acknowledging their annoyance.
The next spot is better anyway. I pull closer to the curb and throw the car in park, then I get out to grab Autumn’s suitcase out of my trunk.
She walks around the other side of my car and meets me back there. She’s a little spacey, her gaze drifting as I reach in to grab her luggage.
Suddenly, her eyes seem to clear a bit and she frowns at the rim of my trunk. “Is that… blood?”
My gaze darts to where she’s looking. My stomach drops at the sight of a small smudge of blood I must have missed when I did my hasty clean-up job before we left.