Made For Loving You (Rescue My Heart Book 3), Kait Nolan [good non fiction books to read TXT] 📗

But despite Ivy and Harrison’s enthusiastic support of her relationship with Ty, she didn’t know how to trust it. Not with the same no-holds-barred abandon she had as a teenager. They both had a lot more baggage, and she was afraid of the ghosts that lurked within it. Because, despite her inherent romanticism, she knew that outside of books, love didn’t always conquer all.

“I appreciate your cooperation.” The words had become rote for Ty over the past few days.

“No problem. I hope you get to the bottom of it soon. Tell Paisley I said hi.”

“I will.” Ty hung up on Dustin Phelps, a college baseball coach who now lived in Texas.

That was it. He’d officially cleared everybody on Paisley’s list, and he was no closer to figuring out who was harassing her than he had been when he’d started this. The theory that had felt so promising in the beginning wasn’t panning out, and there had been no further incidents since they got back to Eden’s Ridge. Not entirely surprising. Presumably her stalker had a job of some kind back in the Nashville area that would preclude a lot of trips four hours away. It didn’t mean this was over.

After sending Paisley a quick text to let her know he was on his way home, he turned the details over in his head, looking for a new angle. He couldn’t shake the idea that it was someone who knew her offline somehow. There were gifts sent that couldn’t have been parsed out from her social media accounts or the newsletters she’d sent. Someone knew her somehow. The question was who and from where? Paisley was a social creature. She knew lots of people from lots of places, and that didn’t rule out some kind of secondary connection between the stalker and someone who did know her well and might have inadvertently shared more about her than they’d realized. None of that narrowed the scope of the investigation. He needed another thread to tug.

She’d left lights on, he noted. It wasn’t something he normally bothered with, but he found he appreciated how that small thing made the cabin feel warm and welcoming against the chill winter air. More homey. Everything about having her here made the place feel more like a home than just a place he’d been parking his ass for more than a year. What would it be like to do this for real? To share a house, a life, with her? That wasn’t a fantasy he’d let himself entertain for what felt like an eon. But stepping inside, seeing all the little touches she’d added, all the signs of cohabitation and her sweet, silly dog, it was hard not to think about it.

A car pulled up outside. A minute later, Paisley swung through the door, bags in her hands, Duke on her heels. “I have dinner fixins.”

Because he was still thinking about that fantasy, Ty crossed to her, curling his hands around the bags and bringing his lips to hers. She softened, leaning into him in that moment of surrender he craved. Some of those sharp edges he’d lived with for so long smoothed out a little. “Hi.”

“Hi to you, too.”

They grinned at each other for a moment before Ty remembered the groceries. He tugged them from her hands and carried them over to the kitchen. “How was your day?”

“More productive. The book is finally starting to gain some momentum again. And I spent some time this afternoon helping Harrison brainstorm a social media campaign for his next release. How about you?”

“Less fun. Between patrols and calls, I finished chasing down the last of your exes.”

“Oh?” He heard the instant tension in her voice and hated it.

“Dead end. You are apparently the only woman in history to actually end on legitimately good terms with all your exes. Even the ones you’ve lost touch with were incredibly complimentary of you and concerned about the situation.” She’d been consistently described as warm and fun. To a man, they’d all wished her well and offered to help if they could. “They basically collectively all said hi.”

She blew out a breath. “Well, I can’t say that doesn’t make me feel better. I’d like to think I’m a good judge of character. I haven’t ever dated anyone I didn’t think was a good person.”

“Seems your record is safe, and my investigation is at a roadblock.”

“I know this means we’ll have to poke around some other area of my life, but can we just give it a rest for the night? I’d like to cook dinner for us and just…chill.”

“We can do that.” Tucking away the nagging thoughts that had circled for days, he watched as she began unloading groceries. “What are we having?”

“Spatchcocked chicken and roasted vegetables.”

“You’re making that up. It’s some kind of romance writer dick joke, right?”

Her smile flashed. “While I’m more than capable of making a dirty joke about basically anything, I swear it’s a real thing. Google it. You’ll see. It’s just the name for the technique where you cut the spine out of a whole chicken and press it flat, so it cooks faster. Makes roast chicken more possible for a weeknight dinner that way.”

“Riiiiight.”

She handed over a bottle of wine. “Here, make yourself useful and open this.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He uncorked the wine and poured them both a glass as she turned on the oven to preheat and began prepping vegetables. She kept up a running conversation about inconsequential, everyday things. Normal. It was both surreal and wonderful, and Ty let himself bask in it, enjoying her. Then she reached into the cabinet for some olive oil, and something white fluttered to the floor, destroying his domestic fantasy like the screech of a record.

For a moment, he was paralyzed, unsure if he should lunge for the invitation—which would make it a Thing—or ignore it. His heart beat thick in his throat, full of dread and a need to act against a threat