That seemed too convenient for her taste. “I’m sure he did.”
“Maybe we should check inside?” Wren ended the comment by throwing her the look a teacher might give a naughty student. Not the sexy, grown-up-play way. No, the actual you’re-going-to-regret-this way.
Then there was the use of the word we. She ignored that, figuring there was no way to keep Wren out of her house at this point. Knowing him, he’d already been through and cataloged everything.
“I guess saying no would be futile.” She whispered the comment under her breath to Wren as soon as someone called the detective away.
Wren stared down at her. “You need to ask yourself if you feel better with me by your side or watching from a distance.”
That was easy—neither. “You’re being creepy again.”
“I fear that will be a reoccurring theme in our relationship.”
A few days ago that sort of statement might have sounded ominous. Now the way he talked started sounding normal to her. Except for one glaring thing. “Relationship?”
“Believe it or not.” He dipped his head as he lowered his voice. “I’ve seen more of you over the last few days than almost any other person I know.”
She couldn’t tell from his deep voice if he thought that was a good thing or a bad thing. It did confirm his “loner” personality in her mind. It fit with everything else she knew about him, which was not all that much. But the guy gave off a vibe and she was still trying to find the right word to describe it. Moody, maybe?
“You know that fact speaks to your weirdness, right?” she asked.
He exhaled. “At least around you I’ll never have to worry about my ego going out of control.”
“You strike me as the type who needs to be reined in.”
“Are you planning on reining me in, Emery?” He sounded amused by the thought.
She was too busy trying to ignore the sexual overtone. She knew she should end that. Give a good “that’s never going to happen” lecture and cut off any possibility of him getting the wrong idea.
Yeah, she didn’t feel like doing any of those things. “I don’t know yet.”
This time he let out a short humming noise. “I’m eager to see what you decide.”
That made two of them.
CHAPTER 11
Rather than really answer, Emery started moving. She walked down the sidewalk and up the stairs with Wren at her side. She didn’t need her keys, but couldn’t seem to let go of them. They jangled in her hand. She heard the noise in the background as her gaze scanned over every inch of the place. Soft yellow walls lined with photographs from the summer she spent traveling through Europe on a budget postgraduation. Her coffee mug still sitting on the kitchen counter. The calendar on the fridge.
It all looked to be in order. She turned to tell Wren and ran right into his chest.
He put his hands on her arms to steady her then dropped them just as fast. “You’re still jumpy.”
She was ten seconds away from leaping out of her skin. “Do you blame me?”
“It wasn’t an accusation.”
For some reason a lot of what he said sounded that way. She didn’t feel like fighting over something stupid, so she let that drop. She had bigger issues.
After a quick check to make sure no one was listening, she asked the question kicking around her brain. “The detective doesn’t know you’re Wren.”
“Almost no one does.”
She wasn’t sure what to say to that . . . or about the severe frown he shot her. “Except me.”
“Trust me, you knowing surprises me as much as it surprises you.” He exhaled. “And I’d like to keep the circle small on who knows that detail.”
It kind of figured he thought of his real name as a detail. “Agreed.”
His eyes widened. “Really?”
Now that was insulting. He acted like she couldn’t keep a secret or that she’d blackmail him with the information. Well, she might claim to do that just to poke at him, but she’d never actually divulge his secret. He went by a top-secret name and she figured he had a reason for that. Probably had something to do with being difficult and eccentric, but she’d still hold the confidence because it meant something that he’d shared with her. What, she wasn’t quite sure.
“Don’t touch anything.” She mostly meant the boxes stacked up next to her love seat. She knew he had to have noticed. The fact they said Tiffany Younger on the sides in thick black ink was a giveaway.
His gaze never left her face. “This isn’t my first crime scene.”
“Who says that sort of thing?” When she first met him she’d thought the way he put sentences together carried a message, telling her to be wary. Now she wondered if he truly believed normal people talked that way. “You do that on purpose, right?”
He frowned. “What?”
“You make a statement like that so that I’ll wonder if you’re a criminal or law enforcement of some type. You want to keep me guessing.”
Rick walked up behind Wren. “You think he’s a criminal?”