Page 57 of Criminally Yours

“Give me a minute.” The one tent winked at her, and shefisted her hips.

Two sleeping bags.

“I’ve heard of only one bed, but never only one tent,” she whispered.

“It’s not your favourite trope, then?” he teased, his smirk warming her belly.

“I didn’t expect you to know what a trope was.”

“I like to learn.”

“But you said you didn’t read.”

“Stop avoiding the question,” he grunted.

“My favourite trope is men in uniform. I like all of them, really, although, I guess I’m not a fan of brother’s best friend.”

“Lucky I was never your brother’s best friend. Dexter hated me.”

She froze. “Did he?”

“Whenever he visited, he’d warn me to keep my distance from you. One time, he told me if he heard we were dating or if I did anything else that could impact your future of going to university, he’d ruin my life. He wasn’t always the guy he made out to be.”

“He was probably joking.”

Her reply convinced him she wasn’t ready for the truth about her family, but maybe while they were in their own little world, he could prepare her. “Your family were protective of you. I knew they’d do anything to ensure you had the life they’d planned.”

“Is that why in the summer before you left, we sneaked around more?”

“Partly. You were committed to your studies, and you talked a lot about medicine. I didn’t want to get in the way of that or risk damaging your relationship with your family.”

She hummed slowly.

“I want to know what happened in the past, but not yet. I process by moving and walking. To find out informationwhere I can’t do that would trap me. Tell me when we get to Cornwall,” she insisted. “Promise you’ll tell me then.”

She walked to him and held out her flattened her palm, stretching her fingers.

“Mixie?”

“Promise me like you used to make promises.” His proximity had her squishing her toes.

He sighed as he signed his name across her palm. Then he turned his palm over, and she signed his. He stiffened against the gentle swoosh of her fingertip. “Still ticklish, then?”

Her laugh at his grunt made his heart flutter.

“Bear packed us food in case you didn’t make it home.” Strike walked away and reached into a rucksack. “It’s cold sausages, homemade bread, and slices of his lemon drizzle cake.”

“When did he become aBake Offcontender?”

Strike’s face cracked into a smile. “When he realised Liss adored food. He loves making her happy.”

“They’re cute together.”

“He’s always singing now, especially Whitney Houston ballads.” He laughed, crinkles appearing around his eyes. “They hated each other when they first met.”

She elbowed him in the side. “So there’s hope for us yet.”

“I guess.” His dejected tone surprised her. “Not that I could ever hate you.”