Page 18 of Island Whispers

“The more people aware of the risk, the better,” Boone said. “The best security is often an alert community.”

She realized he was right. Even though that meant more people were aware of her current dilemma. Grapevine gossip was a powerful force in Brookwell, but most of the chatter in this instance would be backed with a healthy concern. “As long as he doesn’t hurt anyone else.”

“With your video, I’m sure they’ll find him fast. Then we can all relax again. Enjoy the treats!”

Nina appreciated Lila’s confidence as much as the bag of pastries she’d brought over. She watched her friend leave, admiring her breezy way with everyone and longing to be that comfortable again.

Surely, she would be once Boone was done here and off to another case.

At last, the front door was locked, the closed sign in place, and Molly was headed home. Boone had her set up a temporary code for him on the security panel and then she had to deal with reality.

Nina looked up into his handsome face. “I suppose you need to come home with me?”

“That’s the job,” he reminded her. “At the very least, I need to do a walk-through. Then, if it’s better for you, I’ll keep watch from the truck.”

What a ridiculous idea. Job or not, she’d been raised to be welcoming. She could practically hear the scolding her mother would dish out if that got around. And it would.

“Come on upstairs.” Though she wanted nothing more than to be alone, she opened the door to the stairway that led to her apartment above the flower shop. It wasn’t Boone’s fault he didn’t understand the rumor mill or her persistent effort to avoid it.

“I thought this was a closet.” He trailed after her, his heavier footsteps landing on the treads a half-beat after hers. A strange syncopation that reminded her of how exciting it had been dancing with him.

She wasn’t afraid of him—never that. More afraid that her self-control would snap the moment they were alone and she’d throw herself at him. The inevitable conversation loomed large in her mind, overshadowing nearly everything else.

Everything except the carjacker.

At the landing, with the soft evening light pouring through the window, she unlocked the door and started forward. Boone touched her arm and she stilled as the heat of his touch sizzled across her skin.

“Let me go first,” he said.

He was working and she was infatuated. Not good. She wanted to wallow a little in the unfairness of it all. One-night stands were supposed to be just that—one and done. Why did the universe throw him back in her lap and on the worst day of her life, no less?

She waited just inside her door, watching him scour her home. Her stomach growled and she realized she was starving. Opening the bakery bag, she inhaled a blend of sweet aromas. Lila had given them blueberry muffins and thick chunks of her grandmother’s famous strudel. Good friends were the best.

“All clear,” Boone said.

Her mouth was too full of blueberry goodness to reply, so she simply walked in and kicked the door closed. Before she could throw the lock, Boone was there, handling the task himself.

“Muffin?” She held out the bag. He’d better choose quickly or she was likely to wolf down all of them on her own. “I’m suddenly starving.”

“Same,” he admitted.

He was watching her with a slow smile that was too familiar. That was the smile she’d been drawn to. Not pushy or overconfident. Not sly or assuming. Just a sexy expression that made her want to move in close.

Yanking herself out of the memories, she moved away from the table under the window toward the fridge. “I can fix dinner for us.”

“You could,” he agreed. “Or I can go down and grab something. A couple food trucks out there looked interesting.”

“Sure.” Nina gladly supported the food trucks that came out to the island. In the name of community engagement, of course. “That’s a great idea.”

Her parents had been serious about preparing their kids for the real world. They’d taught her and her brother how to cook—not just the basics—but Nina found cooking for only herself a challenge. For whatever reason her mind did not equate food trucks with restaurants, but it hadn’t taken long for her hips to decide the effect was the same.

Still, what difference would one more take-out meal make? Especially after the day she’d had.

Besides, his absence would give her a few minutes to get her head screwed on straight.

“That’s all you’re going to give me?”

“Oh! Of course not.” She dug into her purse for her wallet. He was her bodyguard, not her boyfriend. Bad form to assume he’d buy.