Murder_ A Sinful Secrets Romance - Ella James Page 0,51

call over my shoulder. “Don’t run off on me.”

I didn’t mean to reference the other night, but apparently my big mouth has a mind of its own. Typical me. Typical pre me. I feel a rush of warmth at the realization.

He makes me feel like me, I imagine telling Helga. I’m not sure if she’d be glad or appalled. Possibly appalled.

I pile three Ziplock freezer bags full of cookies into my arms and walk back out onto the front porch. I’m surprised to find Barrett sitting on the top step, leaning over his lap with his head in his hands. I drop down beside him on the stair and put the three bags at our feet.

When he shifts his wary eyes to me, I wait for him to say something. Instead he looks back down.

What should I do?

I wish I knew him better.

After a minute staring at the bags of cookies, wondering why I feel such a compulsion to take care of him, I decide it doesn’t really matter. I do—and that’s the thing. Sometimes people just connect, and this is how I feel toward him. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. In that spirit, I pony up and throw an arm around his shoulders.

They’re harder, wider than I realized they would be, and once my arm is resting on his strong back, I feel tingles spread through me. I still my body, feeling for movement, but he is frozen too. It’s your move. I take a deep, slow breath and spread my hand out on a ridge of muscle.

Then I lean my head against his shoulder.

I’m not thinking about our height difference, so I think my cheek will press against his shoulder. Instead my forehead bumps against the hard swell of his bicep. It’s unyielding. No more receptive to my attempt at comfort than the man himself.

Without meaning to, I laugh, and all the tension in me ebbs. I rub my forehead against his arm, feeling ridiculous.

Eventually, I guess even Barrett gets curious; he lifts his head so he can see my face. “What are you doing?” His face is twisted in a look of total incredulity.

I giggle. “Forehead-humping your arm. Can’t you tell?”

“Yeah.” He makes this husky, half-breath-half-laugh sound, and I feel a zing of victory.

“I’m trying to un-grouch you through osmosis.”

When he cuts his eyes sideways at me, I find his handsome face skeptical. I grin and rub against his arm some more.

Finally—a real laugh from him. “I don’t know about you, Gwen.”

“I don’t know about you either. Who refuses homemade cookies?” I arch my brows accusingly.

“Someone who’s not hungry.”

I hold his gaze as mine softens. My arm around him squeezes. I don’t know what to say, so I just sit beside him, looking at his somber face, into his striking eyes, and try to send good vibes.

“You know…” I let my arm slide down his back, so it’s looser around him. “After my wreck, I had some terrible nightmares. I don’t have them as much now, but I had some in the last week. I find that if I’m stressed out or something shifts in my day-to-day life, sometimes they crop up again. I have this journal where I write them out. And then I go back in and like…re-script them. Change what happens. I know it probably sounds kind of stupid, but it really does help.”

With my arm still up against his back, I feel him exhale. After a second during which his body feels completely inert, he turns to me with raised brows and twisted lips.

“Is there a reason you told me that?” His tone is surprisingly sharp.

My pulse pounds in irritation. I give him my best oh really look.

“I’m fine,” he says. I swear, I think he grits his teeth.

I feel his back knot up under my hand. Riiight.

“Okay,” I say airily. “You seem tired, that’s all.”

He looks at me strangely, almost angrily. “Yes, we have established that. I don’t see why you give a fuck.”

My heart squeezes, making my head feel light and spinny. I move my arm from him and hug myself. “Because we’re friends.”

“Are we?”

SIXTEEN

GWENNA

I’m not aware of what I do, or what kind of look I give him. I just know it takes a couple of seconds to draw my next breath, and when I do, my pulse gallops and my cheeks feel hot. I jump up and turn around, toward my door.

I feel Barrett’s fingers wrap around my arm. “Dammit.” This time, it’s his eyes seeking