Off The Record (With Me in Seattle Mafia #3) -Kristen Proby Page 0,13
have a thing for my behind.
“It’s just a butt, Rafe.”
“A grade-A one,” he agrees, his voice filled with a grin.
God, I missed flirting with him.
The guest room is on the second door on the left. I open it and usher him inside.
“You can use anything you need. But really, Rafe, wouldn’t you be more comfortable at the hotel?”
“Are you kidding me? You think a hotel is better than this? No.” He grins and sets his bag on the bed. “Thanks for the loan. Do you mind if I borrow the shower in this attached bathroom?”
Rafe is going to be naked. In my house.
Lord have mercy.
“Of course, not.”
His blue eyes sparkle as he winks at me. “Thanks.”
“Okay. I have some charting to catch up on, and I need to review cases for next week. If you need anything, I’m just downstairs. Oh, and you can’t stay here tonight.”
“Annika.”
“Nope. No way.” I shake my head and turn to leave the room.
Rafe Martinelli will not be sleeping under my roof. No way, no how.
He’s in his car again.
I pace my bedroom, sipping wine. He’s just so damn stubborn, that’s what it is. He thinks he has to protect me. But Shane and Ivie are this close to figuring out where all of this is coming from, and then it’ll be over. Probably by tomorrow.
He doesn’t have to stay.
Okay, so it feels kind of good knowing that he’s right there, in the very slim chance that something was to happen.
“You can’t let him sleep outside again.” I walk through the house, set the wine on the table by the front door, tighten the belt on my robe, and walk outside.
Rafe watches as I approach his car. He rolls down the window.
“Problem?” he asks.
“Yes. You’re in my driveway. I know, I can’t talk you into going to the hotel. Come on. You can crash in the guest room.”
“I’m fine out here, if you’d rather.”
“Clearly, I don’t rather.” I open the door and wait while he closes everything down and snags his bag. “I can’t leave you out here for another night. No matter how crazy you make me, I feel bad.”
“I make you crazy?” He flashes a smile, and I have to turn away and walk to the house before I do something stupid like kiss him silly. “Tell me more about that.”
“No.” I hold the door for him and then close and lock it. “Want some wine?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
I nod and walk into the kitchen to refill my glass, then gesture for Rafe to join me in the family room. This is one of my favorite spaces. It’s cozy with deep-cushioned couches, colorful pillows and throws, and a TV.
I sit, toss a blanket over my lap, and sip while Rafe kicks off his shoes and curls up in the couch across from me.
I’m already feeling the effects of the wine. Just a little. And that’s good because I could use a little buzz tonight.
It’s been a hell of a week.
“So, what’s new?” I ask and get the laugh I expected. His laugh always made my stomach clench.
Nothing has changed in that department. God, he’s a sight to behold. “What is it about men getting better-looking as they age?”
He tilts his head. “Did you just call me old?”
I snort and take another sip. “No. I said you’re getting better-looking as you get older. There’s a difference.”
“I miss you,” he says and rubs his hand over his face. “Do you know how hard it is to sit over here, see that you’re struggling, and not hold you?”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I sip my wine. The small buzz has progressed into a pleasant, bigger buzz now.
“You’re a good person,” I reply.
“Fuck that.” He shakes his head and braces his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. “I’m not a good person, A. I’ve done some shitty things in this life.”
“Me, too.” I stare down into my glass and think about what he said earlier about being my friend. Maybe I need to talk about this. And it’s not like I can be with him for the long haul, so who better to talk to? “The pictures they sent… The things that Richard made me do. It was pretty bad.”
I take another drink for courage and watch as Rafe sits back again, his eyes pinned to mine, listening.
“We dated for years before we got married. I thought I knew him inside and out. He was smart and funny and gentle. Kind of boring, truth