Gypsy king

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

BRYCE

“UGH. WHERE IS IT?” I dug through the laundry basket at the base of the dryer, searching for the green shirt I wanted to wear. It wasn’t under five towels or my impressive collection of unfolded socks that never seemed to get paired.

Abandoning that basket for the one next to the washing machine, I searched but came back empty-handed. It wasn’t on one of the many empty hangers in my closet. I’d checked all three baskets here in the laundry room. The only other place it could be was the dryer itself. Wearing only my bra and jeans, I knelt in front of the machine and began digging.

“What are you doing?”

“Shit.” I jumped at Dash’s voice, clutching my heart. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.”

“Whatever.” I kept digging, still irritated at him for keeping me up all night. And not in a good way. “You snore.”

His chest shook with a silent laugh. “Again, sorry.”

Dash yawned as he leaned against the doorframe, wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs. His eyes were sleepy and his hair a mess. My mouth watered at that delectable skin on display.

It was really hard to be mad at him when he looked like that in the morning. Maybe a sleepless night had been worth it for the morning view.

His washboard abs deserved daily applause along with that V of his hips. His thighs bulged beneath the seam of those boxers, straining the elastic around sculpted muscle. His arms were roped with the same strength and smooth veins snaked down his forearms. Add the tattoos and I wasn’t all that a

On one arm was a skull, artfully adorned—half of the face was detailed with bohemian jewelry while the other gave the illusion of metal. Both of his forearms had different black ink bands. And on the other arm, a black and white portrait of a woman smiling.

We hadn’t talked about his tattoos, but I knew the portrait was of his mother.

That one wasn’t sexy but it melted my heart. This man had slept in my bed. When was the last time I’d literally slept—or attempted to sleep—with another person? It had been ages since my mattress had felt the weight of two people.

Dash had slept like the dead too. Minus the snoring. This morning, I’d tossed his arm off my naked back and slid out of bed—and he hadn’t budged.

I’d only had a minor freak-out in the shower. It was expected since I was basically sleeping with the enemy and Dash wasn’t exactly long-term relationship material.

I refused to let myself get attached.

Sex. Only.

I’d been reminding myself over and over and over, because if I didn’t keep that thought circulating in my brain, I’d forget Dash couldn’t be trusted. Worse, I’d develop feelings more dangerous than the ones already brewing.

I couldn’t afford deep feelings or co

Dash and I were working together to find information. We were enjoying each other’s bodies at night. That was where I drew the line. When we found Amina’s killer—or if the evidence pointed to Draven, and Dash accepted his father was a murderer—then this fling would be over.

I wasn’t getting used to Dash snoring in my bed. I wasn’t counting on that delicious body and ta

I dug deeper into the dryer, my eye catching the shade of green I was after. “Bingo.” I yanked it out with a smile and tugged the top over my head. The front was a V-neck, the shape loose but not drapey. And the cute little pocket over one of my boobs gave it some added detail.

When I looked up, Dash’s eyes were open and locked on that pocket.

“What are we doing today?” he asked, rubbing a hand over his face. The stubble on his jaw was thick, nearly a beard. I liked beards.

“We?”

He nodded. “It’s Friday.”

“Yes. It will be all day. So?”

“So, it’s Friday. I don’t have to be at the garage. Let’s do something.”

“Something,” I drew out the word. Did he just ask me out on a date? What happened to sex only during the investigation? A Friday spent together was something a couple would do. We were not a couple, though I wouldn’t say no to a day reserved for sex with Dash.

“Yeah.” He shrugged a shoulder. “What were you going to do next to look into Amina?”

“Oh. Right.” Amina. This wasn’t about sex or spending time with me on his day off. Silly me. Time to get back on track. “I want to know why she left town after high school. Where she’d been. Why she came back to Clifton Forge and why she called your dad.”

“’Kay.”

I stood and breezed by him as I left the laundry room. “I was going to go back to the high school and finish checking yearbooks. You know, the ones I was looking at when you called the cops to the library.”

“How long are you going to throw that at me?” He followed me to the kitchen, his bare feet padding on the floor.

“Forever. Remember? I don’t like you.”

“Good to know.” Dash chuckled and nodded at my coffee mug. “Got any more of that coffee?”

“Sure.” I took out a mug and set it under my single cup brewer. With a pod brewing, I faced him. The island was between us, keeping me from reaching for those tattooed arms. They were so . . . ugh. Tempting. He was so a

“Do you want to come with me to the school?” I asked, handing him his full mug. Maybe if I brought Dash along, it would be easier to face Samantha at the school’s front desk. I was thoroughly embarrassed to face her again after being arrested. A sidekick, especially one as distracting as Dash, might take away some of the focus on me.

“Um . . . maybe.” The crease between his eyebrows deepened as he sipped the coffee. “Do you know where she’s been living? Bozeman, right? That’s what your article said.”

“Yep.” I’d gotten that information from Chief Wagner when he’d given me the preliminary report on Amina along with her name.

“Let’s skip the school. Take a road trip instead.”

I’d been contemplating a trip to Bozeman anyway. It was two hours one way, and depending on what we found, it would take up the entire day. I’d already delivered my content for this Sunday’s paper and I was ahead on Wednesday’s. If I was going to write something about Amina in next week’s edition, I’d need to get new information soon.

“All right.” I nodded. “But I’d still like to drop by the school.”

“Why? We’re probably not going to find much there anyway.”

We’d likely find a few more old pictures, and while they might shed light on teenaged Amina, it was more important to know the person she’d grown into as an adult. “Yeah, you’re probably right. We can skip the school and get on the road. I need to text my dad and tell him I won’t be in today. Then we can go.”

“Good.” He gri

“Go for it. Towels are in the tall cabinet.”

“Want to join me?” He winked.

I ignored the rush of heat between my legs. “We don’t have time.”

“Babe.” He set down the cup on the island and sauntered my way, his slow, steady strides raising my heart rate with every step. I gripped the edge of the island and prayed my body didn’t melt at his feet. When he spoke, his voice was rough, like the fingertips he shifted into my hair. “There’s all the time in the world.”