by L. A. Witt
After a moment, I said, “Is that an invitation for me to ask what you were thinking about, or…”
He laughed softly. “That depends. Do you really want to know?”
“Does it include Saturday’s winning lottery numbers?”
Another laugh, this time with a bit more enthusiasm behind it. “Don’t I wish?” Then he paused and looked away, again finding whatever it was he wasn’t looking at earlier. The humor faded from his expression. When he looked down at me again, he ran a single, gentle fingertip down the side of my face. “It does involve you, though.”
My heart jumped into my throat. His affectionate touch reassured me that it wasn’t anything to be alarmed about, but the pair of crevices forming between his eyebrows cancelled out that effect. Swallowing hard, I said, “Go on.”
He chewed his lip for a second. “I’ve been thinking about the other night.”
I didn’t need to ask which night. If it had been on his mind half as much as it had been on mine, he probably still heard the handcuffs rattling just like I did. “What about it?”
Without looking at me, he gave a half shrug. “I’m not really sure, just…” He paused. “Just thinking.”
“Do you regret it?”
His eyes darted downward and met mine. “Regret it? Do-” He shook his head. “Jesus, no.”
I exhaled, trying not to make my relief too apparent. “Neither do I.”
He smiled. “I definitely don’t regret it. I guess it just…”
“Made you think?”
“Obviously.” He laughed halfheartedly, then his face turned more serious again. Trailing his fingertip along my jaw, he said, “I just keep thinking that it should have made me nervous. Or, more nervous than it did, anyway.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek, unsure what to say to that. Fortunately, he went on before I had to think of a response.
“You suggested doing it so I could learn to trust you,” he said quietly. “But I think I already did. I just didn’t know it yet. And that night, everything we did just made me realize it.”
I furrowed my brow. Though this was what I had hoped for, that he would realize there was less distrust between us than he thought, there was a note of hesitation in his voice, as if this revelation unnerved him.
He went on. “As much as we’ve gone around and around about trust, I think I trust you more than I do most people.” He paused. “Maybe more than I should.”
Cold water ran through my veins. “More than you should?”
His fingertips drifted tenderly down the side of my face. “More than I should if this is…” He was quiet and distant for a moment. Then he took a breath. “If this is what it was when we started out.”
My heart pounded. “A rebound thing?”
He nodded. “Especially given how this rebound thing got started.”
I swallowed. “Maybe it started out that way, but maybe it isn’t meant to stay that way.”
“Shouldn’t it, though?” He cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t it stay that way?”
Sitting up, I bit my lip and thought for a moment. “I probably shouldn’t have offered to buy you a beer the night we met, but I can’t change the past, and…” I hesitated. “I don’t think I can change the future, either.”
“What do you mean?”
“Whether we should or not,” I said. “We are. And unless one of us walks out right now, we will.” Leaning closer, I slid my hand around to the back of his neck, not sure if I just wanted to touch him, if I wanted to reassure him, or if I was silently pleading with him to stay.
We looked at each other in silence. Blood pounded in my ears, and my stomach turned with uncertainty. This was a crossroads. A point of no return. Now or never. Stay or go.
I wasn’t going to walk out. I couldn’t be sure if he would. I hoped to God he didn’t.
The next move is yours, Nathan.
He took the kind of deep, deliberate breath that suggested he was steeling himself against something. Preparing to say or do something, to take a step in one direction or another. I couldn’t predict which way he would go, only that he was about to do something.
When he released that breath, the air rushed past my face and I realized he’d moved a little closer.
His gaze shifted down and momentary panic swept through me as I expected him to back away, but when his eyes came back up, so did his hands. First one, then the other, touching my face and drawing me closer.
Looking at me, he hesitated. No, that wasn’t right. His pause was neither uncertainty nor hesitation.
If the half-grin and the look in his eyes-somewhere between lust and reverence-were to be believed, he was stopping on purpose. Enjoying the moment. Savoring it.
One hand went from my face to the back of my neck. My arms wrapped around him as if they had a mind of their own, and we came together in the gentlest, most passionate kiss I’d ever experienced.
It wasn’t our first kiss, not by a long shot, but it may as well have been. The gentleness, the tenderness, the intimacy. This was uncharted territory. This was a degree of “us” we’d never before encountered.
That was the moment I realized I was in love with him. It didn’t matter how we got here, only that we were here, and I was undeniably, unabashedly and unflinchingly in love with Nathan Forrester.
He broke the kiss and looked in my eyes. His thumb brushed over my cheekbone, and my own hand mirrored that motion on his face. Neither of us spoke, but a million things ran through my mind, every last one of them halting right at the tip of my tongue.
I had no doubt that I loved him. It made perfect sense. In fact, I couldn’t comprehend that there was ever a time when I wasn’t in love with him. But knowing it was a far cry from saying it.
He kissed me again, then said, “So where do we go from here?”
Anywhere, as long as you’re there. “I was wondering the same thing.”
Running his fingers through my hair, he kissed me gently. “There’s always the bedroom.”
I don’t want this to be over yet. “Or…” I traced the edge of his goatee with my fingertips. “We could stay here.”
He smiled. “There’s more room to move in the bedroom.”
“Who says we need to move?”
“We don’t need to,” he said. “But if you want to…”
“I don’t,” I said, letting my fingers disappear into his hair as I pulled him closer. “Not unless you do.”
“In that case…” His upper lip touched mine. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Chapter Thirty-four
The clock on the wall above the office door moved as slowly as it always did, but I willed myself to be patient.
Since the night Nathan and I brought out the handcuffs, things had changed between us. The sex was hotter. The nights were longer. The stress of constantly trying to prove myself trustworthy was gone. Just the thought of seeing him again tonight-even though it had only been a few hours since he’d left my apartment to go to work-made me almost giddy.
As the evening wound down, I tried to ignore the clock, since it seemed to be slowing down with each passing minute. Soon. I’d be with Nathan soon.
“Someone’s been in a good mood today,” Dylan said as he walked into the office and dumped some folders on his desk.
I shrugged, not bothering to try to hide the smile. “I’m allowed a good mood once in a while, aren’t I?”
He laughed over the rim of his coffee cup. “The underlings will thank you for it.”
“Hmm, maybe I should go on the warpath just to keep them on their toes.” I laughed.
“Anything to keep them honest,” he said, but there was decidedly less humor in his voice this time.
I cleared my throat, my own humor fading. “Keep them honest?”
He muttered something I couldn’t quite hear.
“Dylan?”
Looking me in the eye, he sighed. “I think we’ve got a thief among us.”
My blood turned cold. �
��Oh, really?”
He nodded. “Discrepancies in the tills the last few days.”
“How much are we talking about?” No, good mood, come back. Don’t go, don’t-
“Added up over the last two weeks,” he said, looking at me over the top of his glasses. “Almost three hundred.”
“What!” I sat up so fast I kicked a cup of pens off my desk. Pens and cup clattered onto the floor, but I didn’t pay attention to them. “Dylan, how long have you known about this?”
He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Morgan brought it to my attention the first day it happened. Then it-”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I said, red-hot anger filling in for my good mood, which had vacated the premises. “You’ve known about this for two weeks?”
“I’ve been trying to figure out who’s doing it,” he said. “But hell if I can.”
“Fuck,” I said. “You could have told me.”
“I thought I could chase them down myself, but-” He shrugged again. “Evidently not.”
I let out a breath. No sense arguing about things that couldn’t be changed. “So what have you found out?”
The more he explained, the worse the situation got. By the time he’d told me everything, the only thing that was clear was that there was a thief on our payroll, but it was nearly impossible to figure out who.
And with three hundred dollars-and counting-missing, we needed to figure out who it was as soon as possible.
“Looks like it’s going to be a long night,” I said, eyeing the information Dylan had compiled in his search for the thief.
“The money won’t magically appear if we figure it out tonight,” Dylan said. “Might as well get some sleep, then work on it.”
“Go ahead,” I said, flipping through copies of bank deposits, time cards and till summaries. “I’ll stay.”
“I thought you had plans tonight?”
My stomach twisted into a knot of fury and disappointment. “Yeah, I do. But this has to be done. Now.” Whoever you are, you thieving little fucker, you’re stealing money and you’re keeping me from getting laid. When I figure out who you are…
“Zach, you might as well do it tomorrow.”
“Right. Tomorrow.” I spread the folder across my desk and leaned down to pick up the pens I’d knocked over minutes before. “Between trying to keep everyone and everything working. Might as well do it now before anything else goes missing.” I unclipped my phone from my belt.
“You’re not calling the cops, are you?” Dylan asked.
I laughed as I hit speed-dial. “For three hundred? Please. No, I’m just-” I stopped when Nathan’s voicemail picked up. When the recording finished, I said, “Hey, it’s me. I got hung up at the theatre. It looks like this could take a few hours, but I’ll let you know when I leave. Let me know if you want to get together tomorrow night instead.”
After I’d hung up, I tossed my phone on the desk and looked at the papers in front of me.
The deeper we dug into the time cards and till summaries from the last two weeks, the more confused and frustrated I became. No one employee was on the clock on every single shift when money was missing. All of the till summaries and deposit slips were double-counted, initialed by two employees, and there was no pattern that I could see.
My phone rang as I pored over the time cards for the seven hundredth time. I knew from the ringtone that it was Nathan, but didn’t answer it. He was probably just calling to let me know whether or not he still wanted me to come over after work, so he’d leave a message. As much as I hated blowing him off, I didn’t want to lose my concentration as I sorted through this mess. The more I focused, the sooner I’d finish, and the sooner I could be with him.
The answer was here. Somewhere amidst all these names and numbers, something would tell me where the missing money had gone. We’d had thieves before. I knew the signs. It was in here somewhere, and I needed every bit of my concentration to find it.
As the evening wore on, guilt tugged at my gut even as I continued scouring paperwork. I really needed to call him back. I felt bad for ignoring him, no matter how irritated I was with this situation, so-
Something on a time card caught my eye, and a light suddenly came on in my head. I read it over a few times to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. I wasn’t.
“I’ll be damned,” I said.
Dylan looked up. “What? Did you find something?”
“Sneaky little shits,” I muttered. “Check this out.” I pulled out a time card and a till summary. The time card was for Lisa, one of the full-time employees, and her signature was on the till summary and deposit slip.
“You think it was Lisa?” he asked, stunned.
I shook my head and pointed to a correction on her time card. “She went home sick that day. On her next shift, she came to me and said she’d forgotten to clock out, so I took care of it for her.”
“Then how did she sign the deposit and summary?”
“She didn’t,” I said. “I have a feeling whoever did it put her signature on it.”
“Wouldn’t they have known she was gone for the night?”
“Not if the person who forged her signature was on the morning crew.” I looked over the schedules and signatures again. “And I think that’s our pattern.” I pointed to the schedule. “Dean and Max are the only ones on the schedule every single day that money was missing, but they weren’t always on the same shift.”
“And one of them was always closing the till and doing the deposit,” Dylan said. “You little bastards…”
We went over the papers a few more times to make sure we were right about the pattern. By the time we were done, there was no mistaking. Upon closer inspection, the forged signatures were so obvious I couldn’t believe we’d missed them. We had our thieves, and tomorrow we would be down two employees.
Satisfied that the problem was resolved, I gathered my jacket and cell phone and headed for the door. We locked up, set the alarm and stepped out into the night.
On my way out, I flipped my phone open and had my thumb on the speed-dial when I looked up and stopped in my tracks.
“Nathan,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
He smiled, but it seemed forced. Very forced. He shrugged and said, “Just didn’t want to wait to see you.” There was an edge to his voice. Something spoken, but unspoken. A subtext I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
“Have you been waiting long?” I asked.
Another shrug. “Not long. I figured you’d be getting out soon.”
I put my hands on his waist and kissed him lightly. For reasons I didn’t quite understand, I expected him to pull away from me, but he didn’t. He wasn’t terribly receptive to me, but he didn’t pull away.
“You okay?” I asked as I released him.
He nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He smiled, but it still seemed forced.
An uncomfortable silence lingered before I finally said, “So, should we get out of here?”
Something loosened in his shoulders and his expression seemed more genuine. “My place?”
“Sounds good. I drove in today, so I’ll follow you.”
Chapter Thirty-five
On the way to Nathan’s house, my stomach twisted into nervous knots. I replayed our conversation outside the theatre. Something wasn’t right. Something didn’t add up. Just like when I scoured the time cards and till summaries in the office, I knew the answer was right there in front of me, I just couldn’t see it for some reason.
He said he was there because he wanted to see me. Because he didn’t want to wait until I got to his place. He’d smiled when he said it, but something in his eyes suggested that there was more to it. Something he wasn’t saying.
And in spite of his insistence that he was there because he couldn’t wait to see me, he didn’t seem all that thrilled when he did see me.
The epiphany came to me so suddenly I jumped, my foot very nearly hitting the brake
by accident.
The desire to see me sooner than later hadn’t driven him to The Epidauran that night.
It was suspicion.
“You son of a bitch,” I muttered, glaring at his taillights as we continued up the street toward his house. For all I’d done to convince him that I was faithful, for as much as I thought we’d put those damned trust issues behind us, he’d come to check up on me.
To catch me in the act.
Nathan pulled into his garage and I parked outside. Part of me wanted to call him out right then and there in the driveway, but I didn’t. We were going to discuss this. I just didn’t know how I should bring it up. Calmly ask about it? Let him have it?
At least take it inside. Don’t make a scene out here. I managed to avoid slamming the car door, then, grinding my teeth so hard they hurt, followed him into the house. Maybe feel him out, figure out what kind of mood he’s in, then bring it up. I chewed the inside of my cheek, knowing full well I was just making excuses to myself to avoid confrontation.
In the kitchen, he put his arm around my waist, but I recoiled, stepping out of his grasp.
He stared at me, stunned. “What the-”
“Why were you there tonight?” I growled.
His lips parted in surprise. “I, I told you,” he said. “I wanted to see you.”
“I gathered that,” I said. “But I’m wondering if that’s the whole story.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Were you there because you wanted to see me?” I asked. “Or because you wanted to see if I was telling the truth about why I bailed on you tonight?”
He set his jaw, leaning against the kitchen counter and folding his arms across his chest. “Now who’s the suspicious one?”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You are,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “And for as much as you’ve complained about me not trusting-”
“If you’re coming by the theatre to make sure I’m telling the truth, I think that-”
“I just told you I wasn’t doing that.”
“Then why did you look so fucking pissed off when I came out tonight?” I snarled.