Page 10 of Blind Spot
I cleaned up. Rook watched me, and at some point the look on his face made me put the towel down.
“Bed?” I asked.
“Bed.”
He stood and killed the lights over the sink and the stove. I locked the door to the garage and checked the bolt on the front.
We brushed our teeth in the upstairs bathroom. I spat, rinsed, and watched him in the mirror.
“Come on,” I said.
He turned off the light.
The bedroom was dark except for the ray of hall light that reached the dresser. I glanced at the Bobby Orr stick over the headboard. We’d bought it together at a charity silent auction.
Rook pulled me into bed sideways and put his arm under my head. His other hand landed flat on my chest.
I pushed my face into the side of his throat and breathed him in. He smelled like the organic body wash I’d convinced him to try. It had an evergreen forest scent. He teased me that it made him smell like a Christmas tree.
He kissed my hair.
“You smell good,” he said.
“You’re stalling.”
“Okay, I love you tonight.”
“Only tonight?”
He grabbed my package, and my breath caught in my throat.
“Careful, fragile valuables down there.”
He kissed the corner of my eye and kissed the spot beneath my ear. “Damn, you know I’m thinking,” he said.
“Of course I do.”
“Okay, the thing with Mark. It’s a reporter who wants a sit-down.”
“And?”
“And I know him. From a long time ago. Before you.”
“Know him orknowhim?”
Rook huffed a laugh, and he squeezed the jewels again. “Not a biblical knowing. It’s probably nothing, and I should have told you this morning. I’m telling you now.”
“And there’s more?”
“Tomorrow,” he said.
“Tomorrow, or whenever you’re ready.”
I worked myself up onto one elbow so I could see him. It couldn’t be major. Rook didn’t hide things from me. He wouldn’t start now.
I leaned down and kissed him slow. It was the right speed for tonight. I pushed up and straddled his hips, both hands flat on his chest.
The hole in the hem of his T-shirt was right there under my thumb. I tugged it up and over his head.
