“Sure, you can stay here for the night.” Clay stuffed a forkful of spaghetti in his mouth. He could resist this woman for one night, couldn’t he?
“Thanks, but that’s not what I was talking about.” She gathered the hem of the T-shirt in her hands, bunching it in her fists. “Why you? Why was that woman’s head on your porch?”
He swiped a paper towel across his mouth. “I’m Border Patrol. I found the body. The other agent on the scene is a new guy and doesn’t live in town, and Nash’s property is too big and those pecan groves are monitored. I’m the default guy.”
“It’s dangerous that the drug dealers know you and know where you live.”
“The cartel members from Mexico don’t, neither do the runners coming through. It’s just the guys who distribute locally. They’re not going to make a move against the agents. That would be suicide for them.” He planted his elbows on the counter. “I’m glad you didn’t surprise them in the act. You didn’t see anyone driving around when you arrived?”
“No, but I wasn’t paying attention. I probably passed a couple of cars on the road before the turnoff to your place.” She wagged a finger at him. “And before you ask, no, I didn’t notice anything about the cars—make, model, color, license plate—nothing. I didn’t realize we’d be finding a head on your porch. I would’ve told that detective if I’d noticed anything.”
“What was it about Detective Espinoza that set you off? The man was just doing his job.” Clay pushed away the bowl of pasta, losing his appetite all over again.
“Why was he asking about my dress?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“The dress had nothing to do with the head in the box.”
“He’s a detective. He’s supposed to be curious.” Clay rubbed his knuckles against the stubble on his jaw. He must look like hell and for once he cared. “What surprised me is that Nash didn’t ask about the dress.”
“Didn’t surprise me a bit. That’s Nash.” A giggle escaped from her lips, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, her blue eyes wide and glassy above her fingers.
“Humor is allowed—even with a head on your porch, especially with a head on your porch. It’s a coping device.”
“Yeah, you’re talking to the queen of coping devices.” She tapped a fist over her heart.
“Your coping device is to take care of everyone around you and ignore your own pain.” Except when she’d left him. He’d always told her to look out for herself, but he didn’t think she’d take his advice at the expense of his happiness.
Be careful what you wish for, Archer.
She dipped her head and toyed with the ties at the waistband of his sweats, her hair creating a blond veil around her face. “I’ve kept you away from your routine tonight.”
He glanced down at his dirt-smudged shirt and dusty boots. He did look like hell. “I think that pink box on my porch disrupted my routine...such as it is. But I’ll take the hint and hit the shower.”
Her head shot up. “I didn’t mean that.”
“I usually do take a shower as soon as I get off work, especially after a day like today.” He snatched the bowl from the counter. “I won’t be long. Help yourself to anything in the fridge, or if you’re tired, I can make up the bed in the guest room.”
“I can do that myself. Sheets?”
“There’s bedding in the hall closet, top shelf. I just have a bedspread on that bed, but the sheets in the closet are clean.”
Flicking her fingers in the air, she said, “You go ahead. I’ll fix the bed.”
Clay pushed open the door to his bedroom and tripped to a stop at the discarded dress on the floor. He gathered it in his arms, burying his face in the silky material to inhale the scent of April’s perfume, mixed with her own undeniable smell of sweet and spice.
She’d had enough time to spritz on some perfume before the wedding. What really happened? He had a hard time believing April would put up with someone abusive, but she’d been through a lot in her life.
He tucked a trailing bit of lace into the pile in his arm and stepped out of the room. He’d probably never know the truth, just like he’d never know the real reason why she ran out on him.
When he tapped open the door to the guest room with his toe, April gasped and dropped the stack of folded sheets in her arms on the bed. Still jumpy.
“Sorry. I’m just going to leave this with you.” He dumped the dress on a chair in the corner where it flowed over the sides. “You can figure out how you’re going to get the sample to Detective Espinoza.”
“I will.” She nodded. “Pillows?”
“Not sure if I have extras. I’ll check.”
“Take your shower. I’ll look in the closet.”
He retreated to his bedroom, snapping the door shut. He peeled off his uniform and dropped it in the hamper in the bathroom.
The warm spray of the shower hit him midchest as he stepped under the water. Bracing his hands against the tile, he dropped his head. What was he doing? Inviting April Hart to stay at his place even one night meant trouble.
He’d never been able to get her out of his mind, out of his heart.
He scrubbed the grit and dust from his hair, digging into his scalp. Now, he’d have to not forget about her all over again.
He finished his shower and pulled on some gym shorts and a T-shirt. With any luck, April would be worn out from her drive and the terror of finding that head, and be fast asleep in his guest room.
He stepped out of the bedroom and peered around the corner at April, camped out on his couch cradling a hot drink, her feet on top of his coffee table. He pulled his bottom lip
