Trust me, I thought, I’ll never forget it after this.
“Faster,” I urged, and Adam smiled against my neck.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered back, obliging me until I felt him tense and pulse inside of me. Good thing I’d stayed on birth control.
He remained inside of me for a few more seconds, catching his breath, but he eventually withdrew and lowered our bodies to the floor. I moved to curl up against him, but he pulled away. An uncomfortable silence settled between us. I tried to meet his eyes, but he kept them averted. He was too busy adjusting himself back into his boxer briefs, pulling up his jeans, and, really, kind of acting like a jerk.
I ran my fingers through my tangled hair and tried to straighten my stretched and torn panties. My blouse was stuck to my back, soaked with sweat. I was a wreck. In contrast, besides his mussed-up hair, Adam was immaculate.
The slacks I’d been wearing lay on the hardwood floor, a puddle of black. I reached for them, and Adam, seeing my reach, tossed them my way. He then settled back against the opposite wall and stretched his long legs out in front of him. I wanted to ask him if this hot, unexpected sex meant anything at all to him, but his distant attitude made me refrain.
“Uh, I’m going to run up to the bathroom for a minute,” I said, balling up the slacks.
Adam raked his fingers through his hair and gave me the quickest of glances. “Yeah, okay.”
Upstairs, I splashed cool water on my face. I reminded myself that I was the one who’d broken up with Adam; I had no right to expect him to fawn all over me just because we’d fucked. And fucking was exactly what we’d done. I wasn’t used to Adam treating me like this after sex though. Maybe he’d done this with the women he had before, but he’d never treated me this way.
Trying not to think too much about it, I peeled off my blouse. The ruined panties went into the trash. I washed off at the basin and then went into the bedroom, where I slipped on a pair of yoga pants and a clean T-shirt.
I padded back down the stairs, half-expecting Adam to be gone. But he was there, in the kitchen, his back facing me as he stood at the sink. When I saw he was holding the vase with the flowers, I skidded to a stop.
“You really don’t know who your neighbor is, do you?” he asked, peering down at the roses.
I sighed. “Adam, I really don’t want to talk about Stowe, especially after…”
He turned around to face me, setting the vase back on the counter. He shook his head as shot a parting glance at the flowers, and then his eyes met mine. “Have you ever thought to ask your new friend his last name, Maddy?”
Come to think of it, I had not. And he’d never said.
I shook my head. “No. Why? What does it matter? What’s his last name?”
Adam stared at me for a few beats. Maybe he was assessing if I was telling the truth. I was; I had no idea what my neighbor’s last name was, nor could I imagine why it would even be important.
Adam sighed. “His last name is Hannigan, Maddy. Hannigan.”
Oh, dear God. Adam surely could read the expression of stunned comprehension on my face.
He said, “That’s right. The guy who gave you roses”—he flicked a rose with his finger and a yellow petal fell off—“the guy you were wining and dining tonight, your new friend. He’s Chelsea’s brother.”
Chapter Ten
“Stowe is Chelsea’s brother?” It wasn’t really a question. I was just trying to wrap my mind around this new information.
No wonder he’d been so interested in my involvement in the Harbour Falls Mystery. And now I knew why his unusual green eyes had seemed so familiar; his eyes were the same shade Chelsea’s had been. I’d never met Stowe before, but I recalled someone once saying Chelsea had a brother who was a few years older. Come to think of it, I recalled Florida being mentioned in that same conversation. But I’d never heard his name before; I would’ve remembered a name like Stowe. And that made me wonder…
“Why did I never read about him in the case files?” I asked Adam.
I’d been over the files relating to Chelsea’s disappearance a dozen times, maybe more, and I was sure I would’ve remembered if his name had been mentioned. It absolutely hadn’t.
Adam pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “Stowe wasn’t up here for the wedding. He was, uh, otherwise detained that weekend.” He smirked.
“And why was that, Adam?” I sat down across from a way-too-smug Mr. Ward.
“Because he was stuck in county lockup that weekend, down in Florida, Madeleine. Does that answer your question?”
I gasped, surely the response Adam was hoping for. “Oh,” I breathed out.
He patted my hand, and though he was being kind of a condescending jerk, I was glad he wasn’t acting as distant anymore. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It was just a drunk and disorderly charge that was eventually dropped. You don’t think I’d just stand by and continue to allow you to live next to a psycho, now do you?”
“Allow me?” I quirked an eyebrow. “Really, Adam?”
His expression grew serious. “Yes, Maddy, allow you. It’s who I am. Would you prefer I didn’t give a shit?”
“Of course not,” I said sharply. “I just, I…”
I didn’t know what to say. But it meant everything to me that Adam still cared, so I finished my stammering with a simple “thank you.”
Adam seemed as unsure as I of how to continue this vein of conversation, how to talk about what was still between us. So I steered the subject back to my neighbor. “So what do you think Stowe Hannigan is doing up here in Harbour Falls?”
Adam looked relieved to be back to neutral
