Sara
Thank god she owned plenty of black. If only she owned a lead-lined stomach.
One foot after another. Breathe in and out. Basic, automatic functions most of the time, but Sara had to make a conscious effort to do them now. Her hands had shaken so much while getting ready, she’d had to give up on applying her usual fake eyelashes and liquid eyeliner. Maybe Curtis wouldn’t even recognize her when she walked in…if she got that far.
Nia had promised not to mention Sara’s decision to attend the funeral. Not even to Conn, hard as that was to believe since those two had no secrets anymore. Sara hadn’t even had to ask. Nia had offered to withhold the information—just in case Sara didn’t make it.
Part of her wanted to give Nia and Curtis a piece of her mind. Tell them to fuck off for thinking she was too weak to support them. That part had run for the hills the moment she got within spitting distance of the chapel doors.
She had one last chance to change her mind. Once she went inside, she’d have to hold it together, regardless. If she couldn’t do that, she needed to turn around and leave.
She grabbed the handle. Pulled. Held on to it with a white-knuckled fist so she didn’t buckle when the coffin, on display at the front of the chapel, entered her view. A few heads turned briefly before returning to the business of waiting and grieving. Many of the assembled group had probably been at Nia and Conn’s wedding. They may even have been dressed similarly. But the mood in this chapel couldn’t have been further from that day.
The service hadn’t started. She could still go back through the doors. And she was tempted. Until she spotted the backs of several familiar heads, and one in particular turned her way.
She hadn’t been sure Curtis would want her here. They were casual, and fairly new at that. This might be way too personal a gesture.
His eyebrows rose at the sight of her. Then he rose, excusing himself along the row as he squeezed past Nia and Conn, Lindsay, his parents and a couple of people Sara didn’t recognize. Throughout the shuffle, his eyes remained locked with hers. He exited the pew and walked up the center aisle. Too late to back out now. From the funeral or the statement her presence made.
By the time he reached her, the nervous butterflies had whipped up a cyclone in her stomach. Her limbs tingled and her head spun so much, she wasn’t entirely sure she’d be able to move without crumpling. She also had no doubt Curtis would catch her if she fell. He seemed to have a knack for that.
“Hey,” he said, positioning himself such that she could no longer see the coffin. Coincidence? Unlikely. “What’re you doing here?”
“Ogling you. Do you have any idea how hot you look in that suit?”
His sexy mouth curved into an irresistible smile. “Thank you.”
She shrugged it off, despite knowing his gratitude had nothing to do with her compliment. She couldn’t do serious right now. It’d break her.
He offered his arm, pulling it tight to his side once hers slipped beneath. “We can sit in the back row if you want.”
“You ashamed of me, lawman?”
“Yeah.” His free hand came across to flick the sleeve of her blouse. “You’re hiding too much of your sexy body in these mom-approved clothes.”
“Dude, this is a funeral.” She waited until they’d squeezed into place on the pew with his family, then leaned close so she could whisper in his ear. “But I promise to change for the private after-party at your place.”
“Just your clothes, princess.” He pressed his lips to her temple. “Don’t change anything else.”
Curtis
“Can I do anything for you?” Sara’s quiet voice broke the silence Curtis had assumed was post-sex sleep on her side of the bed.
Now that he knew she was awake, he pulled her closer. As in half-on-top-of-him closer. “You already did,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“Reverse-cowgirl anal for the win.”
A laugh rumbled up from his gut, almost bouncing her off his chest. “Not what I meant, but yeah, that was definitely ten out of ten.”
“Is that all? I’ll have to improve my technique next time.”
Next time. He liked the sound of that, and not just for the amazing sex.
More than ever, she fascinated him. He’d avoided any mention of Brent’s death or the impending funeral during dinner conversation last night. Not the kind of stuff that made for good date talk with any woman, and especially not with Sara, given her past.
But she’d shown up at the chapel. On her own, and not to support her sister or Conn. Throughout the emotional service, the burial and the reception afterward, she’d stayed by Curtis’ side. Been there for him, even when her hands shook, her lips quivered and her eyes had welled with tears. He’d known she was independent, spirited and stubborn, but he hadn’t given her enough credit for being strong.
And he hadn’t realized how much he’d needed to lean on somebody until she’d been there, ready to bear the burden. “I thought of something else you can do for me.”
She shifted position to look up at him. “Do tell, lawman.”
He trailed his fingers down her spine and cupped her ass tightly so she couldn’t get away. “Don’t run back to that shitty apartment tomorrow. Until you figure out something better, stay here.”
Her face could’ve been a billboard. Even in the semi-darkness, he saw the rapid blinking, the way her eyes darted around and her lips parted and closed. Yet another battle in Sara’s private war of emotions.
“I promise to put the toilet seat down and pretend I don’t notice when you fart.”
Her chin dug into his pecs as she laughed. “Wow. With an offer like that, how can I refuse?”
“You can’t.” He rolled them, his hard-again cock wedged between them as he sealed the deal with a kiss.
Chapter 12
Curtis
Curtis stole from the bed, careful not to jostle the woman who’d shared it for over two weeks. Though she’d never admit in her waking hours, Sara was a cuddler while asleep. Big time.
Despite sleeping alone his entire life minus the odd night here and there, he didn’t mind the sleepy affection. Kinda liked it, actually. Quite the contrast to daytime Sara, who spent hours scouring the classifieds, muttering under her breath about everything from the lack of job opportunities and cheap rentals to being trapped here by an overbearing cop. The newspaper didn’t bring out the best in her, that was for damn sure.
As for other conversation, she should have a sign over her head that said, “Proceed at Your Own Risk” or “Your Mileage May Vary.” Sometimes she let her guard down and they really connected. Other times…oh man. When her walls were solidly in place, any topic of an even remotely personal nature sent Sara into smart-mouth mode.
Her finely balanced system of sarcasm and evasive wording put televised political debates to shame. Like the time he’d asked her if she had a favorite kind of flower. She’d given him such a convoluted answer, he’d almost forgotten the original question.
She made him fucking crazy sometimes. And made things interesting all of the time.