Page 55 of When I Accidentally Snagged a Serial Killer

I want to take care of you too. If you’ll give me that honor.

That one keeps floating to the surface.

Then, Gage turns onto a narrow private road and slows before a gate, and I sit up straighter. Two tall stone columns flank black steel bars that stretch in both directions before disappearing into dense trees. Small security cameras pivot discreetly above the entrance, with enough warning signs to trigger my hacker brain.

“Is your fence electrified?”

Gage punches a code into the illuminated panel, his face perfectly straight. “It discourages trespassing.”

“Normal,” I mutter. “Very normal boyfriend house.”

His mouth curls. “When your boyfriend has millions of followers, raging females accounting for a good majority⁠—”

“I get it.” A little too much bite in my voice. Judging by his smirk, he appreciates the snap of jealousy.

We roll through, and the gates hum closed behind us. I twist around to watch them lock into place. “Well, this isn’t ominous at all.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“That is exactly what someone says right before the true-crime documentary begins.”

Gage laughs under his breath as the headlights sweep across a long paved drive climbing through the trees. He reaches over and rests his fingers against the back of my hand. “You’ll like it in the morning. Sunrise from the east windows is incredible. I’ll wake you.”

I give him a slow side-eye. “You realize I normally go to sleep around five in the morning and wake up around noon, right?”

“Trust me. It’s worth getting up for.”

“Cruel.”

“Or staying up for, in your case.”

I slump deeper into the seat with a dramatic sigh. “Early bird versus night owl. This relationship is going to work out beautifully. Tell me now if self-sabotage is your kink, Gage.”

His chuckle drops lower, and his knuckles brush higher until his fingers catch the ends of my hair. “Maybe I’m just a masochist.”

I study him. “That would explain a surprising amount.”

“I walked into that.”

“You sprinted.” We share a grin.

The drive curves again, and I glimpse at the trees swallowing us. “Are you sure this hasn’t been one extremely elaborate long con? You meet an emotionally unstable woman jogging alone at night, help dispose of her attacker, seduce her with brunch and antiques, then lure her through an electrified gate into your private forest.” I gesture at the darkness. “For all I know, you really are a serial killer taking me to your kill zone.”

His laugh is immediate, deep from his chest, and loud enough to fill the SUV.

I cross my arms. “It wasn’t that funny.”

He flexes his hand on the wheel, still smirking. “Nothing, Princess.”

“That laugh was incredibly suspicious.”

“If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.”

“Wow. Subtle.”

“I’m a pastry chef.” His shoulders lift with his shameless amusement. “We prefer layers.”

I wrinkle my nose. “That was terrible.”