Read On the Way Home for Free Online

clearly in need of trimming. But otherwise the house looked no worse for her absence. The porch light lit the steps in the waning evening.
    “Nice place,” I said.
    She glanced back at me, her smile almost sad. “Thanks.”
    I rocked on my heels, disconcerted by the sense of unwelcome. As if she wanted me to leave. I got that from her sometimes. One minute she’d be checking me out and inviting me over. The next she’d withdraw, leaving only the shell of the pretty girl behind. I couldn’t figure her out. But then again, my brain had stopped functioning sometime this morning. Right now I was running on fumes. Oh, and lust. My attraction for her had only grown with the realization that I might actually get to act on it. I just hoped I didn’t pass out in the middle. Boy, I sure knew how to impress a girl.
    She flicked on the light, revealing a comfortable dining room connected to the living room. Pointing to an open space between them, she said, “Not much privacy, but you can put your stuff there. There should be enough room.”
    “If you’re sure…”
    The corners of her mouth lifted into a grin, a real one. “Backing out already, soldier? Where’s your follow-through?”
    Damn, I liked it when she teased me. When she emerged from that shell and bared herself in that way, hints of humor and light.
    “I’ll go get my stuff from the truck. But just to be clear, I’m paying to stay here.” When she pursed her lips, clearly prepared to argue, I shook my head. “Let’s plan on a week, and we’ll figure out the fair rate for that.”
    Her eyes grew clouded, darkened by some secret she hadn’t yet revealed. “A week ought to be just long enough, soldier.”
    If only I knew why it sounded ominous, more like a threat than a promise.
    I put the boxes and my bicycle in her garage, ignoring the unease in my gut. I flashed back to when she’d pulled up in front of me, offering me a ride. If the situation were reversed, if I were a woman and she were a man, maybe I’d better be careful. But considering the circumstances, that kind of wariness felt silly. Even exhausted and mildly injured, I was a trained soldier. While she was… a beautiful woman. One who could find a date in any bar in town. The fact that she’d dragged my sorry ass home was pure charity.
    The hot water in the shower found every bruise and open cut, burning before soothing away the sting. The walls seemed to sway in front of my eyes. I had a faint hope I wouldn’t slip and crack my head open. It would hardly be good behavior for a guest. But I stepped out of her small, steam-filled bathroom without incident. At least the steady spray had done its best to pound out the knots in my shoulders. I wanted to dive directly into bed, but instead I slung on sweatpants and a T-shirt, the fabric clinging to my still-wet skin.
    The duffel bag wasn’t outside the door where I’d left it.
    Someone was humming. The sound was low and melodic, whispering beneath my skin and raising goose bumps in its wake. It sounded almost familiar. Not a song I’d heard before, but it filled a space inside me, as if I had been waiting to hear it.
    I followed the haunting sound to the bedroom, where my duffel bag had taken up residence in an antique-looking chair against the wall. Della was pulling down the comforter from the bed, such a sweetly domestic movement that my chest grew tight.
    She stopped humming.
    Her smile appeared shy. “You can sleep in here.”
    I took another step into the room. White walls, white sheets. Dark brown knotted wood flooring. “Is this your room?”
    “Of course not. I’m across the hall.”
    That sense of reversal washed over me again, the way a man might make a woman feel safe, the way he’d reassure her he wouldn’t take advantage. She was doing the same for me—making me feel safe. Assuring me she wouldn’t require me to have sex with her, which was really ironic considering I’d give anything to touch her. Or be touched.
    The way