Page 62 of Lost and Found

“I don’t need a ton of room. Just a place to close my eyes. It’s for one night, and truth be told, I want you in the room with me. I need you near me. I know whoever broke in wasn’t there to attack you, but they sure as hell did on their way out.” He bit his bottom lip, then shook his head as if he were disappointed in himself. “We were apart for seconds. And this is what happened to you.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know that. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” His head cocked to the side. “I should have swept your room. Instead, I was too focused on staying out of your room.”

“Because…”

His knowing smile surfaced. “You know exactly why.”

Awareness sparkled through her with such delicious force that her headache flitted away—but with the rush of her blood, her bruised cheek throbbed. Wasn’t that sexy? “I’d guess this,” she gestured to her face, “is deterrent enough for that.”

The corners of his eyes tightened. His tongue flicked against his top lip before he leaned closer. Her heart jumped in a staccato beat until Wes was close enough to kiss. “Nothing about someone hurting you could chase me away.” His lips brushed hers. “The opposite, if you want to know the truth.” He kissed her softly and leveled her with a primal, possessive stare she felt to her core. “Understood?”

His uneven breath mimicked hers. She wasn’t entirely sure why or how, but she nodded.

Wes cupped her uninjured cheek. His thumb smoothed her skin, then her lips, before he shut her in his truck.

Bailey squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. It didn’t regulate the wild cadence of her heart. She wasn’t just falling for Wes. It’d happened. She’d fallen—hard—and didn’t know how to make that work in her day-to-day life. But the thing was, she didn’t have to do it by herself.

He pulled himself into the truck and turned the engine over. “Put your seatbelt on, beautiful.”

Beautiful to him, even when she looked like this? He made her believe it.

Chapter Fourteen

With Bailey’s bag in one hand, her hand clasped in his other, Wes paused outside their hotel rooms. Nothing hinted at what had happened in her room, and as anticlimactic as that might’ve been, he appreciated that the police had left no signs of their presence. He didn’t want her rehashing the break-in more than she already would.

“Strange,” she said, turning toward her door as he pulled his hotel keycard from his wallet. “It’s as if nothing happened. You’d never know.”

He held his door open and followed her in, setting her bag against the wall as she hovered awkwardly by the desk.

“Do you want to take a shower? Or…” His shoulders lifted. “Just get ready for bed?” He stayed by the door. “I’m going to step out to make a couple phone calls and give you privacy.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s fine. I won’t be gone long. Just enough for you to do whatever you need to do. Don’t open the door for anyone. Not if they knock. Not for any reason.”

“You don’t think he’ll return?”

“No. Not at all. Erring on the side of caution is all.”

“Wes…thanks for everything. Not just tonight. For helping me. Listening to me.” She rolled her lips together. “Not judging me.”

His throat constricted. In what world would he judge her? Except he had lumped her in with Erick Cosgrove and had harbored a grudge against her for years. He’d been a fuckin’ ass about it, too. “You’re giving me way more credit than I deserve.”

“I don’t mean what happened with Natalie’s case. People always want to judge single mothers. What they should do, shouldn’t do. What they say, or what they keep to themselves. They pity them, or compare circumstances. Do you know how annoying it is to hear a happily married friend complain about ‘single-parenting it’ for a few days when their partner travels for a work conference?” She half-laughed and dropped her chin. Her fingers toyed with the long, flowy dress that he’d been pressed against earlier, now stained with her blood. “I’m rambling. Sorry. Ignore me. I don’t know why I brought that up.”

He wanted to kiss her again, but now that they’d passed the threshold of his hotel room door, he thought that might cross the line. Though hell, he’d crossed so many lines already tonight, what was one more? Wes balled his hands in his pockets instead of running them all over her body. “You can bring up whatever you want. I’ve got a pretty good read on you.”

“Oh, you do, huh?”

“I know when to push—and you know when to push right back. I like that about you. A lot.” More than a lot. Right now, though, the opposite was true. They needed lots and lots of space. He stepped back.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and they needed even more space. Wes forced himself into the hallway and triple-checked that the heavy hotel room door had latched. He didn’t have phone calls to make. He could call Dean, but it was late, and they’d catch up in the morning. Instead, he posted by the door, leaning against the wall, and pulled out his phone. Dean had emailed plenty of similar cases pulled from databases up and down the East Coast for them to look for similar patterns.

Ten minutes later, his stomach had turned. Too many people lost their lives, and too often, no answers nor justice were found. After another ten minutes, he’d had enough and opened the group chat with Decker Shaw and Eli Granger, the one they’d started when Rhys Callaghan and Jules Lowery gathered them for an informal engagement party before the rest of the world was looped into the famous celebrity’s gossip. Decker, Eli, Dean, Gage, and Wes were the only single guys remaining in their office. Dean never stayed in group chats, so they left him off, and they left out Gage, number two to Vivian, who no one had a good read on except Viv.

Wes scrolled through the single-guy chat, thumbing through memes and videos, wondering if he wanted to be single. After his ex had called off their engagement, he didn’t date. He wasn’t looking for a relationship. If there was an itch for something physical, he dealt with it. Nothing long-term. All above board. He’d been honest in not wanting a commitment.