he’d normally forgo at night. But he was sleeping beside Gabby, on top of the covers of course, so she wouldn’t feel so outraged if she woke up in the middle of the night.
To be sure she didn’t shoot him—accidentally or on purpose—because fuck knows how she felt about him at the moment, he unchambered the round in the Glock that was in her nightstand. He found other guns hidden under the kitchen counter, the hallway bathroom, and the laundry room. Another trait he was having trouble reconciling from the wife he left behind.
Seventeen years was a long time, and people did change.
He set his phone to alert him every hour so he could wake her up.
Then he crawled into bed and slept beside his ex-wife.
6
Gabby stared at the rumpled bed covers. A sign that she, indeed, had slept beside her ex-husband last night. She recalled getting annoyed hearing the alarm that roused her every hour, the tapping on her shoulder, if not the shaking. A voice, sometimes cajoling, sometimes stern, and sometimes sexy, forced her to respond.
Speaking of sexy, her cheeks flamed at the idea that Declan undressed her. He left her bra and panties on her though. Her skin still smelled of hospital antiseptic. Not to mention her mouth was dry and she could imagine what it smelled like—sewer on a humid summer day. Horrified at the thought, she bolted out of bed. Her concussion reminded her why that was a bad idea.
The room tilted and her sore ribs crashed against the dresser, the pain so sharp, she couldn’t even utter a sound. Her hands gripped its edges, thankful she didn’t hit her head again, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Gabby’s gaze dropped to the glass, keys, and medicine bottles scattered on the carpet. Did she knock them off? Geez, she was more disoriented than she first thought.
“What are you doing?” A calm voice asked from the doorway.
There stood a version of her ex-husband she couldn’t connect to the nineteen-year-old boy she’d known. He was leaning against the doorframe, one foot crossed over an ankle, arms folded over his chest, biceps bulging, observing her struggle to straighten up, but doing nothing to help her. His eyes were guarded, his mouth tight. Declan of seventeen years ago had packed on maybe twenty pounds of muscle. No trace of the young man she used to know remained. He was broader, seemed taller, and there was nothing safe about him. At least that was what her cop’s instincts were yelling at her.
“Trying to get to the bathroom.”
His eyes flashed with frustration and he stalked into the room.
Gabby took an unsteady step back, and when he reached out to her, she put a hand up.
“Don’t—”
“Christ, Gabby, I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“Didn’t think you would.”
“I was just going to help you. Don’t want you to fall and hit your head again,” he growled. “Like you almost did.”
“I’m fine!”
He moved closer.
“Don’t—”
He took a step back, scrubbing his face and then sighing. “Don’t want me to touch you? Fine, but let me stay close to you—”
“I stink,” she mumbled, covering her mouth.
His head reared back. “What?”
“I. Stink.”
Realization dawned on his features, and a corner of his mouth hitched up. “I promise I won’t hold your physical hygiene against you today.”
Trust her ex-husband to bring out the prissy Gabby of long ago. If it were Kelso in front of her, she wouldn’t have cared. She’d done overnight stakeouts, navigated through sewer tunnels—which was the foulest smell on earth—and belly-crawled through disgusting tight spaces of dilapidated homes. But deep down she was just like any woman who had come face-to-face with an ex who dumped her. Clearly, appearing her best for that encounter wasn’t in the stars. In fact, the universe was conspiring against her.
“I’m just being polite.”
A dark brow raised, and his green irises grew closer. “Polite? Are you forgetting, Angel, that I’ve seen you naked?”
She sucked in a breath at his words, not to mention the endearment she thought she’d never hear from his lips again.
“I’ve been inside you, know how you sound when you come.” His voice lowered perceptively. “Knowing all that, you think we can just act polite?”
“It’s been seventeen years, Declan. We’re nothing more than strangers now.”
His jaw worked reflexively as his eyes hardened into emerald ice. “If that’s how you wanna play it.” He paused. “You’re still not using the bathroom alone.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“You want a shower? I’m getting in there with you.”