My eyes scan him from head to toe and then back up again. Surprisingly, he looks even better out of uniform. He’s wearing faded jeans with a few paint splatters on them, and a t-shirt that has a fist up in the air and the word Gonzo printed across it.
A Hunter S. Thompson t-shirt. I wonder if that was deliberate.
“Nice shirt,” I say, holding the door open.
He grins but doesn’t reveal if the literary shirt was intentional.
His age is easier to pin down in the daytime than it was last night. He’s definitely older than me, but not by much. Maybe four or five years, which would put him in his early thirties.
“Did you get any sleep after I left?” he asks, walking into the cabin.
“Not much, but I’m okay. You?”
“Not any, but I’m okay,” he says.
I don’t know if the smile he speaks with is intentional, but it seems seductive. I don’t know what to do with that. Normally, I can hold my own when it comes to flirtation, but this man is wearing a wedding ring. I don’t flirt with other women’s men.
But my character would. Reya.
That’s how her affair with Cam begins in the book. She latches on to every flirtatious smile he gives her.
Part of me wonders how much writing I could get done tonight if I would just step out of my own skin for a little while and try to become Reya. If I allowed myself to become my character, I might become inspired and meet my deadline.
Detective Nathaniel Saint is making a slow spin in the kitchen, admiring the high ceilings of the cabin. “I’ve always wondered what the inside of this place looks like,” he says. “It’s the nicest cabin on this whole lake.”
“That’s why I stay here,” I say. “It has the best views.”
“Is it not two-story? It looks multi-level from the outside.”
“Nope. Just the one. All the rooms have ceilings this high.”
He brings his eyes back to mine. “It’s nice.”
I nod.
Neither of us speaks for a moment. The silence between us becomes thick. “What name do you go by?” I ask him. “Nathaniel? Nate?”
“Saint, actually.”
“Saint,” I say in a whisper. That would make a better character name than Cam. I would change the name in my book, but that might be too weird. Cam is already turning out to look just like this guy. I can’t make his name the same, too.
“So,” I say. “You need a statement from me?”
Saint stares at me quietly for a moment. “Not anymore. They closed the case already. It’s all on camera—nothing to dispute.” He leans against my kitchen island and crosses his legs at the ankles. He’s so effortlessly breathtaking, I feel out of my element.
But would Reya feel out of her element?
“If you don’t need a statement, why are you here?” I ask him.
“You said you needed to pick my brain.”
Oh, yeah. I did say that.
I nod and swallow the thick lump in my throat. I can’t remember a single question I wanted to ask him now that he’s standing right in front of me, and I don’t want to look at my list like an amateur.
I make up a question, just so I don’t seem so pathetic.
“Why do you wear a uniform if you’re a detective?”
“It’s a small town. I only do detective work when it’s needed of me. Most of the time I patrol and have to be in uniform.”
I nod but have no other questions to follow that up with. I chew on my lip for an uncomfortable moment as I try to think of another.
“I have a confession,” he says.
“You do?”
He nods. “I didn’t sleep last night, but it had nothing to do with my job.”
I have no idea where he’s going with this. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”
“I Googled you,” he says, matter-of-fact. “Watched a lot of your live videos.”
I cover my face with my hand. “Oh, God. Not those.”
He laughs. “You and your friend…what’s her name…”
“Candice.”
“Yeah. Very entertaining.”
I bring my hand to my flushed chest. “Did you see the one from a few nights ago?”
He nods slowly. “Yep. You said you’re writing a book about a cop.”
“Yep.”
“A hot cop if I remember correctly.”
I can feel the heat climb up my neck and to my cheeks. “Yep,” I say. “But to be fair, that video was recorded two nights before I even met you.”
He grins, and I can feel that smile slide right into my stomach. “Do you really think experience would make