Page 69 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

The words surprised both of us. He seemed to realize it the same moment I did. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly as he looked away toward the window. Outside, Max chased a leaf that had absolutely no interest in being caught. A small laugh escaped me.

"You know," I murmured, "I envy dogs sometimes. They don't care about appearances. They don't get fooled by smiles. They sense things long before people do. They know when something isn't right. I wish I knew who was friend and who was foe. Imagine knowing, from the moment you met someone, whether they were safe... or dangerous."

I could feel his eyes burning into the side of my face, silently trying to solve me as though he could unravel every thought in my head before he finally followed my gaze instead.

"He believes everything is a friend."

"There are worse ways to see the world."

"There are."

His voice carried a weight that didn't belong in an ordinary conversation about dogs. It made me wonder what he'd seen before Blackridge, not because I wanted answers. Just because… Some people carried their past in photographs. Others carried it in the way they looked out of windows. He was definitely the second kind.

Neither of us spoke for a while. Oddly enough… It wasn't awkward. Just quiet. The sort of quiet that didn't ask to be filled.

He cleared his throat, almost as though he'd remembered he was supposed to be the host.

"We should probably sit down."

"Probably."

He picked up his mug, nudging the kitchen chair back into place with his foot before heading toward the living room. I followed a step behind him, trying very hard not to notice the broad line of his shoulders beneath the charcoal Henley.

The living room carried the same quiet order as the rest of the cottage. A dark leather couch faced a stone fireplace that hadn't seen a flame in months. Shelves lined one wall, filled with books, framed photographs, and the occasional award collecting dust as though he'd forgotten they existed. Everything had a place. Everything looked lived in without feeling cluttered.

It felt… Comfortable. Dangerously so.

Max padded in behind us before throwing himself onto the rug with an exaggerated sigh that suggested he'd worked much harder this morning than either of us.

I laughed.

"I think he's exhausted."

"He probably chased butterflies."

"It was clearly very determined butterflies."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Elias's mouth as he lowered himself onto one end of the couch. I settled into the opposite corner, curling one leg beneath me as I wrapped both hands around the mug, letting the warmth settle against my fingertips.

The silence returned. Not uncomfortable or forced. Just… Quiet. The kind of silence that invited wandering thoughts.

Max wandered over with the confidence only a dog could possess before dropping onto the rug directly in front of me. His tail thumped lazily against the wooden floor as I reached down to scratch behind his ears.

"You spoil him," I murmured.

"He'd argue I don't spoil him enough."

"I think he's right."

Max rolled onto his back in complete agreement, stretching his front legs into the air with a contented groan. I laughed, running my fingers through the thick golden black fur beneath his chin.

My eyes drifted upward.

Elias had leaned back into the couch, one ankle resting casually over his knee, his mug balanced effortlessly in one hand. The morning light spilled through the window behind him, catching against the dark strands of hair that had begun falling across his forehead. He reached up absentmindedly, pushing them back before rubbing a tired hand along the sharp line of his jaw.

I found myself wondering what his hair would feel like beneath my fingers. Whether it was as soft as it looked. Whether he'd lean into my touch... or pull away. My fingers itched with the ridiculous urge to run my fingers through his hair. To taste his skin and give his jaw fluttering kisses as I start kissing lower. Oh, what I would give up for a chance.

I clear my throat and take a big sip from my coffee suddenly parched for something else entirely. My face feels hot as my heartbeat beats somewhere lower, skin flushed. I clench my thighs together to ease the ache forcing my attention back to Max before Elias caught me staring. Again.