She stood. “I’ll get you some aspirin.”
Without even thinking, he tracked her movement by sound. At the same time, he checked the room for potential weapons. He estimated the number of steps to the front door. Why? He didn’t feel threatened. At least not by her. Danger. A cold chill sliced through him. Where? Who? Were they out there waiting for him? Why come to her if he faced a threat?
“Here.” She handed him two pills and a glass of water. “I brought this, too.” She slipped a gray T-shirt from the crook of her arm. “It’s one of my sleep shirts. It’s seen better days, but I think it will fit you. I washed your jeans. They’re in the dryer. It’ll be awhile before they’re ready.”
Reid downed the pills. He traded the glass for the shirt. Her boyfriend’s? Better than nothing. As if in disagreement, his stomach sounded off with a growl.
“Would you like a grilled cheese sandwich?” She worried her lower lip as if in thought. “I think that’s the best I can do.”
He couldn’t take his gaze from her mouth. He also couldn’t stop himself from conjuring up how well her firm, round ass had fit in his hands a minute ago in front of the fireplace. She’d felt soft and warm and tasted sweet when he’d kissed her. “Grape jelly.”
Her brow crinkled. “What?”
“That’s what you had. Wasn’t it?”
“How do you know?”
He reached out and stopped. Dirt streaked his hands. He pointed. “You have some on your shirt.”
She looked down and her cheeks stained pink. “Peanut butter and jelly. It’s my go-to food when I need to think.”
“What did you decide to do with me?”
Questions clouded her beautiful green eyes. “I haven’t. Who knows?” Her smile erased some of the doubt. “The magical powers of peanut butter and jelly could help you.”
“Only if you have regular peanut butter. Not chunky or any of those other weird combos.”
“Of course.” She feigned shock. “When it comes to the art of PB and J, I’m a purist.”
A chuckle shot from within his chest. It felt good. So did the back and forth between them. It seemed…right. “Do you mind if I take a shower first?”
“Down the hall, second door on the right.”
Guest bathroom’s on the left. The echo bouncing in his mind came with an image of her naked and pointing the way. His cock started to rise. “I’ll be right back.” He hustled out of the room. If he’d stood there any longer, he would have tented the blanket like some horny perv.
In the bathroom, he stood under the hot spray. What could explain it? He knew her body all the way down to the tiny scar on the back of her thigh. Lauren had no clue about him. It didn’t come across as a game or an act. She honestly didn’t remember him any more than he knew how he’d gotten there. Or maybe from her point of view, their encounter hadn’t made the same impact. Ouch. So why show up on her doorstep if trouble followed him? Damn it! He slapped his palm against the tile. Tingles of discomfort shot up his arm. He ignored it. A sore arm didn’t rate on his list of problems.
A few minutes later, dressed in the T-shirt and a towel, he joined Lauren. She placed a saucer with a triple-decker sandwich on the counter in front of him. “Did the aspirin help?”
“Some.” He took a healthy bite.
“Let me know if it doesn’t. I’ll see if I have something else.” She sucked peanut butter from her thumb.
Reid’s gut tightened. The innocence in her expression stalled a full-on erection. “Could I have a glass of water?”
“Sure.” She poured a glass from a pitcher in the fridge and set it next to the saucer. “Did anything come up yet?” Her expression froze. “I can’t believe I forgot. This could be the key to everything.” She hurried to the fireplace mantle. “I found a piece of paper in your pocket. Some of the numbers are washed away, but maybe you know the rest.”
He accepted the paper along with a sheathed boot knife.
Her expression grew hopeful. “Could it be a phone number? Your wife’s or maybe a friend’s.”
“I’m not married.” Having a wife would make Lauren a sidepiece and him a bastard. He may be a lot of things but bastard didn’t resonate. Friends. He had to have one or two. He focused intently on the number. Not a name or a place emerged. The sandwich turned to the equivalent of ash in his mouth. “I don’t know who I should call.”
“It’s okay.” She grasped his forearm and gave him a reassuring smile. “Do you want to call the police? I’m sure someone is worried about you. They’ll probably contact them.”
Tension gathered in his shoulders. Not a wise move. “No one I know is looking for me. Don’t ask me how, but I know that. The police won’t have anything.”