Page 12 of Beneath the Quiet

“Thank you.”

His frown deepens at my laboured breaths. Even soft, they seem as loud as cannons, filling the evening air, and it doesn’t take any deductive skills to know that I’m not fooling him. I try to offer a crooked smile, but the strain on my body is too much.

“Are you all right, Detective?”

“Fine!” I snap, but then bite my lip, embarrassed by my outburst. “Sorry. I’m fine, just a little out of shape. I didn’t mean to bite at you.”

He opens his mouth as if to say something but then snaps it shut, his jaw working for five quick beats before he turns back to the path leading away from the main road.

“Through here to the house.”

I bite my lip to hold back the curse that I’m burning to let loose in frustration. I follow him down the cobblestone path, rose bushes on either side of us curving inward, and peer into the darkness. I can barely make out the house, the darkness closing in so much quicker in these parts of the country. He takes a turn to the left and suddenly stops, pulling out a set of keys from his pockets.

“Why didn’t one of the gardai drive you home?” he asks.

“I was stubborn.”

He lets out a chuckle. “Why don’t I find that hard to believe?”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Silence settles between us again, and I wait for him to find the right key, absentmindedly rubbing the spot where my scar is. Once he unlocks the door, pushing down the excessively large door handle, my heartbeat has settled. Light bursts from the open door, allowing me to see the face of my unexpected companion for the night, and I crane my neck to meet his gaze.

Why is it only now that I’ve noticed how freaking tall he is? Even though I’m taller than the average woman, the way he towers over me makes me feel small, delicate even.

I’m not entirely sure I should like that, but I do.

“Why do you want to pretend?” he asks.

His question throws me.

“Um, sorry, what?”

“Never mind.” He jerks his head towards the doorway. “I’m in the middle of laying new flooring in the kitchen, and it’s a bit of a mess. Follow where I go, and you won’t trip. Got it?”

I nod briskly.

Aidan slides his glasses up his nose before entering the house. I keep my eyes down, following his lead as he weaves first right, then left, before we both stand in front of a big pile of wooden pallets stacked together with a square piece of hardboard on top of it as a makeshift kitchen island. Aidan moves towards the wall farthest from the entrance and turns on a round switch. I blink quickly, the dimness of the room disappearing quicker than I’m prepared for, and I take in my surroundings. Wafts of peppermint and citrus permeate the air, and I smile at the sight of a black and white cat perched on the kitchen counter next to a wide, white sink.

“Nah, Little Miss. You know the rules,” Aidan murmurs and picks up the feline. “No cats on the counters.”

“Is that her name? Little Miss?”

He nods and bends his knees, placing the cat on the floor currently covered in grey paper and tape.

“My daughter’s idea.” He straightens back and takes off his jacket, placing it on top of the temporary kitchen island.

Daughter? Crap…have I been checking out a married man?

“It’s a great name.” I smile and glance around the green kitchen. The hominess of the room makes the tension in my neck dissipate slowly, and I start to relax in Aidan’s company. I tilt my head back to take him in, standing patiently, waiting it seems.

“I hope your wife won’t mind me disturbing your evening.”

He shakes his head and glances down at me, his eyes blank. “Not married anymore.”

“Oh.”

The relief hits me so much harder than it should, but before I blurt a string of questions, I push it aside. I’ll examine my feelings about his single status later.