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The hair lifting at the back of my neck, I whisper, “Do you really think she’s still here? We aren’t walking distance from town and there aren’t any strange cars around. All of the ones on the street belong to my neighbors and their kids. Where would she even be hiding?”
He leans past me, making my breath catch as his spicy, clean, Wes smell teases at my nose. Dammit, how does this man smell so good after being up all night loading a camper?
“Well,” he says, lingering close, his cheek just inches away. “You do have an unusually…sprawling display of garden gnomes.”
Ignoring the twist of awareness in my stomach and other places I refuse to think about, I ask, “An unusually impressive display, you mean?”
He shifts to face me, his breath warm on my chin. “Gnomes aren’t my favorite. They’re creepy.”
I arch a brow, desperately trying to play it cool, but my voice is husky when I say, “I heard gnomes felt the same way about you.”
His lips curve as his gaze slips down to my mouth, making every cell in my body ache to close the distance between us. “They think I’m creepy?”
“Super creepy,” I breathe, my nipples tightening into tingling points that make me grateful for the sweatshirt Wes gave me to throw on over my bridesmaid dress. “It’s the eyes, I think. Green like a snake belly.”
His smile widens. “Should I get contacts?”
“To appease the gnomes?” I ask, deadpan. “Yes. As soon as possible. I would suggest a nice, flat brown. No gold flecks, no amber ring around the edge. Just basic brown. People would probably take you more seriously in court, too.”
He nods, the playfulness leaving his gorgeous green eyes that should never be covered up by anything. Ever. “That reminds me, I have two meetings I need to reschedule for next week and a continuance to file with the court. Definitely need to send those messages when we pull over later to get some rest.” He sits back in his seat, arching a brow. “Ready?”
“Ready,” I say, checking to make sure Freya is still sleeping before slipping out the door and closing it as softly as possible behind me.
I start up the driveway, my head on a swivel, but the yard is empty. The only sign of trouble is the brown mess on my door and a couple of yellow dog waste bags on the front porch steps. Weirdly comforted that I’ve been attacked with dog poop instead of human poo, I punch the code into the panel on the garage door and duck under it as it rises, grabbing reusable bags from my stash in the laundry room on my way inside.
It only takes a few minutes to gather Freya’s things. I toss a few extra toys in the bag with her food and treats, then move into the kitchen, quickly packing perishables in my small cooler and other snacks in a separate bag. Leaving those by the garage door, I head into my room, fetching my large camping pack from the closet.
I open it on the bed, tucking underwear and bras into the pocket at the top before selecting a matching black bra and panty set for the day. I glance toward the bathroom, wondering if I have time for a fast shower before meeting Wes outside. I mean, I am lightning fast in a pinch, a skill I picked up when I used to work an early shift at the local coffee shop before heading into the catering office at ten. I couldn’t stand the smell of coffee grounds on my skin all day and had the three-minute shower down to a science.
Deciding it’s way better to spend a few minutes showering now than wait until later, when I’m even more tired and forced to figure out the shower system in the camper, I grab a pair of leggings and a soft denim button-down and scurry into the bathroom.
Closing the door, I strip off Wes’s sweatshirt and my dress, then tie my hair up with a scrunchie to keep it out of the spray. When I scoot the curtain to one side to start the water, I’m completely naked.
Which is perfectly normal and wouldn’t have been a problem…if there weren’t a dead body hanging from the shower faucet.
I scream bloody murder, my heart punching at my ribs as I scramble backward until my bottom collides with the cabinet by the sink. My hands flail out, searching for a weapon as my panicked gaze rakes up and down the form dangling from the spigot.
The armless, legless form, with large socket holes near the hips…
By the time I realize it’s not a dead body and stop screaming, Wes is bursting through the bathroom door, a vintage garden gnome held over his head like a weapon.
Chapter 11
WESLEY
Naked.
Tessa is naked.
I’m not proud of it, but when I burst into her bathroom to help her fight off whatever made her scream, that’s the first thing I notice.
I see bare curves, pale skin flushed with pink, and her thighs clenched together in fear, and all I can think about is when those thighs were wrapped around my hips. When her breasts were heavy in my hands and her nipples tight against my tongue and her pussy clenching around me as she came, calling my name.
“B-body,” she stammers, jabbing a shaking finger toward the shower as she fumbles for the hand towel hanging by the sink with her other hand. “I thought it was a b-body.”
She tugs the towel from the holder and clutches it to her chest. It’s too small to cover more than her breasts, but that’s apparently enough to help me get my shit together.
I jerk my gaze back to her face before following her finger toward the spray, where the torso of what looks like a department store mannequin dangles from the shower faucet.
