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She had no idea how long she’d been soaking, but as she dragged herself from the tub and wrapped a robe tight around her waist, she realized it must have been a while, judging by her pruney fingers. With no time to properly dry herself off, she padded barefoot down the hall and into the foyer to investigate.
A cold sweat broke out on her skin the same instant she remembered that the bulb in the patio light had blown, and she had yet to replace it. Dammit, she should have listened to Paul. Should have let him install security cameras or an alarm system, like he’d offered time and time again. Should have grabbed something more dangerous than a rolling pin from the kitchen, which she currently held in shaky hands as she approached the front door.
What if it was him? Oh, God, what if a cold-blooded killer stood on the other side of that door, mere inches from her? What if—
Get a grip, she ordered herself. If it is, do you really think he’d knock?
The thought calmed her nerves enough for her to find her voice. “Who’s there?”
“Lexie? It’s Nico.”
Her knees almost buckled. “Nico?” Holding the rolling pin in one hand, she unlocked the deadbolt with the other and opened the door a few inches. “You scared me. I thought—I don’t know what I thought. What are you doing here?”
“Sorry, I tried to call.” Soft lamplight from the living room spilled out, illuminating his weary face. He wore a white t-shirt atop bootcut jeans with a leather jacket that was clearly a well-used favorite. “I just—I wanted to make sure you were okay. You know, I’ve been busy today and hadn’t heard from you, so I thought—” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry if I’m overstepping here.”
“No, no. It’s fine.” She let the door swing open, breathing a sigh of relief that she wasn’t about to die, and took a step back, allowing him enough room to enter if he wished. “I was just, um, taking a nice long bath.”
He didn’t move, but his eyes dropped from her face to her body, and something flared in them. A glint in the dark. Barely perceptible, especially when he cleared his throat and studied the floor a second later. Then she realized, her wet body, clad in nothing more than thin satin, was now on full display. She didn’t need to look down to know her nipples were hard pebbles against the fabric, the chill of the evening air giving her goosebumps.
She crossed her arms. “Did—did you want to come in?”
“Uh . . .”
“Just”—she retreated further, leaving the door hanging open—“just give me a minute. Please. Make yourself at home.” Then she bolted back up the hallway and into her bedroom.
Taking a few minutes to change into yoga pants and an oversized sweater, Lexie finger-combed her hair, applied a little balm to her lips, and returned to find Nico pacing the foyer. He’d closed the door behind him but made no other move to get comfortable.
“Would you like a beer?”
“Sure.”
She led him into the open plan space, covertly noting his reaction to seeing her home for the first time. As his gaze swept over anything and everything, she tried to imagine what his fresh eyes would make of it, what it all said about her as a person. After her father died and left her the house, she’d agonized for months about whether it was okay to sell off half the furniture in it and start fresh. Finally deciding—with Annie’s help—that it was, she opted for a simple, yet tasteful style. Two fawn-colored couches with big, comfy cushions sat facing each other on top of a weaved wheat rug, a reclaimed wood coffee table between them. To break up the earthy tones, she’d draped a white throw over the arm of one, a green checked blanket over the other, and strategically placed a couple of indoor potted plants in the corners. Gold candlesticks graced the mantel, along with some framed photos and a stack of her father’s favorite books. Across the room, her dining table was round with wrought iron legs and a timber top. A bright green bowl full of fruit sat in the center and four matching chairs underneath. The kitchen was Lexie’s favorite. She’d had the countertops redone in butcher block a few months ago along with low-key white-plank cabinetry. It was modern but still cozy.
Popping the rolling pin back in its drawer on the way past, she went straight to the refrigerator and opened a beer for Nico and one for herself.
“What were you planning to do with that?” he asked, amusement leaking from every word. “Roll me out and bake me?”
Lexie smiled sweetly. “Actually, I was going to wallop you over the head with it.”
“Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
“How did you know where I live?” she asked, passing him his drink and moving to sit on one end of the couch.
Nico took a seat at the other end. “I wrestled it out of Wade.”
Almost inhaling the first sip on a laugh as the visual hit her brain, Lexie coughed a few times before gasping out, “You’re kidding.”
“Yes, I am. One hundred percent. Have you seen that guy? I mean, I can hold my own in a fight, but if he ever came at me”—he nodded like he’d thought it through—“I’d be a little worried.”
When the giggles finally subsided, Lexie braced an elbow on the back of the couch and leaned her head on her hand. “Was it strange? Crossing over the bridge you . . .”
As her words trailed off, she wondered if he even knew before driving out here tonight that the route to her house would take him past the site of his accident. Being her only way into town, she’d of course had to face it a billion and a half times already, but she wasn’t the one who’d been stuck in a wreck, bleeding out, dying . . .
He frowned. Then realization dawned in his eyes.
“I didn’t recognize it,” he admitted, starting on his beer. “But it’s been a long time and, like I said, I don’t remember much from that day.”
“So, missing person’s detective, huh?” she said when it became clear that he wasn’t going to say more.
