“I don’t…I mean, uh, well, no. I mean, I don’t—” She couldn’t even make her thoughts make sense, let alone her words.
“Because I’m not. I wouldn’t. You lost your husband barely two weeks ago. You’re not ready, and even if you were, I’m not that kind of guy. More than that, I’m the officer leading the investigation into his death. It would be completely unethical for me to be interested in you. I could lose my job. So, to be clear, I’m here to protect you because you’re home alone and you’re scared. Over the past few weeks, I feel like I’ve grown to know you a bit and I care for your wellbeing. That’s all this is.”
“Oh. Of course.” She nodded, feeling like a child who’d been scolded.
“I don’t say this to hurt you, Peighton. I just want you to know that you have nothing to worry about with me here. Nothing to feel guilty about,” he stressed his words, “I’m not here to be your husband or to try to overstep. I’m doing my job, that’s it.”
She frowned, sucking in a breath. “I didn’t mean to make you think—”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I can just tell you’re worried something is going to happen. Something that wouldn’t be okay. I wanted to ease your mind a bit. I know how this might look but I can assure you it’s innocent.” He turned from her, taking a seat on the couch. “Now, come sit down and we can watch some crappy two a.m. television together.” He patted the seat next to him, propping his feet up on the ottoman.
She grinned sheepishly, trying to hide her shame and followed his lead, sitting down at the other end of the couch. As if to make matters worse, they reached for the remote at the same time, their hands brushing. She pulled her hand back too quickly. “You make me nervous,” she blurted out.
He stared at her, a smirk on his face. “I never would have guessed.”
“I know. I’m not subtle. Todd always teased me about that. I can’t hide anything that I feel. And right now, I’m really nervous. And maybe saying that out loud makes me look ditzy or weird or…I don’t know…like a silly little girl, but it’s how I feel. And, well, I just wanted you to know that.”
He raised his eyebrows, rubbing his jaw slightly. “Are you done?”
“Yes,” she said indignantly.
“All right then.” He grabbed hold of the remote, flicking the TV on. After a few minutes of silence had passed, he spoke again, this time so quiet she wasn’t sure she’d heard it at first. “Brave.”
“Excuse me?”
“Brave,” he repeated, looking at her without turning his head completely. “That’s what that makes you.” She stared at him, not sure what to say. “You know, talking about how you feel and all that…my wife always said that makes you brave. I’m no good at it but I wouldn’t call you ditzy or weird or any of that other crap. I’d say brave. Maybe a bit neurotic,” he smirked at her, “but brave nonetheless.”
Ten
CLAY
Okay, so Clay hadn’t told Peighton the truth about everything, so what? How could he? She wouldn’t understand. Not yet. What mattered now was that he kept his head on straight. Stuck to the plan.
He stared into the television without really watching it, painstakingly aware of Peighton a mere foot away from him on the couch. Her eyes had begun closing, the times they were open growing further and further apart, so he knew she would be asleep soon. When he finally saw her eyes close without opening for several minutes, he knew his chance had come. He stood up cautiously, careful not to wake her. The leather squeaked as his weight left the couch, but she didn’t stir.
He stood, staring at her for a moment too long. She was beautiful, in a slightly unconventional way. Her head rested on her shoulder, a position that looked slightly uncomfortable, but he didn’t dare move her. Her light brown hair hung over her face, shaking a bit with every breath she took. Underneath her heavy lids, he imagined the dark brown eyes he’d spent so much time agonizing over the past few days. The sleeve of her robe had fallen down, exposing the bare skin of her shoulder, and he had to shake his head to pull his gaze away.
He turned, walking out of the living room, up the stairs, and down the hallway toward the office Peighton had showed him days before. He put his hand to the bronze knob, turning it slowly. He heaved a sigh of relief when he heard the latch click, felt the door release. He pushed the door open, holding his breath when it creaked slightly. He froze, listening. When he was sure he didn’t hear anyone coming, he snuck in the room, pushing the door behind him without closing it.
He flicked on the light, looking around. The office was simple, neat. The Senator had a few stacks of papers lying on his desk, ones he had determined unimportant. He flicked through the pages, looking for her name. When he didn’t find it, he opened a drawer in the desk, sorting through pens, paperclips, and sticky notes. It wouldn’t have killed the man to use an organizer.
Still finding nothing of use, he closed the drawer and pulled at the next one. He pulled out a stack of pictures, sorting through them quickly. A few were from what looked to be a family vacation to Disneyworld, some of the boy with the nanny, Isabel, some with the Senator, Peighton, and their bodyguard, Frank. They looked happy, he observed. Each of the pictures looked as though it could’ve come from a magazine. He stopped, taking a second longer look at a picture of Peighton and her late husband at the beach, Peighton’s wiry arms wrapped around him. He was staring at her, a huge smile on his face. He couldn’t help but notice the green string bikini she wore, and how tightly it clung to her curves. I’d be smiling like that too.
The door whipped open suddenly, causing him to throw the stack of pictures. They spiraled down, like money at a strip club. He stared into the doorway, into her shocked stare.
“Clay, what are you doing in here?” she asked him, crossing her arms.
“I was looking for the bathroom,” he lied, but it was no use. Her expression told him plainly she wasn’t buying it.
She darted toward him, snatching the pictures from the ground heatedly. “You’re going through my husband’s things. You have no right! How dare you? You said you were just here to help me. Well, that was all a lie, wasn’t it? You were just using me, waiting for your moment, huh?”
“That’s not what this is, Peighton,” he told her, bending to help her pick up the mess he’d made.
“Then what is it? Huh? You and the other officers, you already got everything you needed from his office. I gave you permission to take whatever you needed then. So, what could you possibly need from his office now? And why would you have to sneak to get it?”
“If you’ll just let me explain,” he began, with no real earthly idea how he could explain anything.
“Go on then.” She stopped, holding the pictures in her hands and staring into his eyes. “Explain.” He stared at her, her dark chocolate eyes burning a hole into him, but he couldn’t say a word. There was nothing he could tell her to explain this away without blowing the whole thing. When he didn’t answer, she stood up. “I want you out of my house,” she said firmly, opening the door.
“Peighton, don’t do that. I was just being nosy. Trying to find out more about you,” he confessed finally, a half-truth.
“What could you possibly want to know about me that you couldn’t just ask?” She dropped a hand from her hip, a bit of her wall coming down.
“I wanted…” he paused, thinking quickly. His jaw grew tight as he realized his only way out. It was a long shot, but he was too tired to talk himself out of it. He was going for it. “I wanted to see how he looked at you.”
“W-what?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“I wanted to see how he looked at you, okay? How happy you were together. I needed to see what you looked like when you were with him.”
“But why? For the investigation?”
“No.”