Her Silent Revenge novel Chapter 60

His small toy pile in the corner. A little desk with pencils and pens and crayons piled on top, mostly bundled together with rubber bands. A few photos of Salem and Arlo on the wall.

There's one propped up on the windowsill, showing him as a baby. A worn-looking Salem holds him with a tired smile on her face.

In that photo, she looks a lot like the girl I remembered.

Not as glamorous, maybe, but with the same reddish tint to her hair and the same youthful glow to her face.

"Sorry it's a mess here. If I knew you were coming, I would've straightened up," she says, bringing my attention back to her.

"Don't worry about it."

Even if I hadn't seen her photos, I'd remember better times, when we were younger and more carefree.

The way her hair, still half-damp from the snow, falls around her face probably has a lot to do with that now, making her glow. Plus, the way her cheeks look deliciously red.

Damn, the last time I saw her this flushed was— No.

The intrusive thoughts about sexy times that can never happen again must end.

I can't believe I ever gave Dexter so much shit about his fake- engagement-turned-real when I'm this goddamn obsessed with a hookup from ancient history.

"Your place is charming," I say, remembering my manners before the silence stretches too long. "Homely and real."

"Um, thanks." Her eyebrow quirks. "You can spare me the compliments. I've been to your mom's house. That place is a palace compared to here."

"Yeah. Hasn't changed a beat since I was Arlo's age. I don't like it." "Your mom's house? Come on."

"I'm not saying it isn't cozy. Just that the big Victorian mansion isn't my style with its size and suffocating history. If you ever visit my place, you'll see."

For fuck's sake, man. Stop encouraging more visits from her outside the office.

"Oh, I have a pretty good idea what you like." Her mouth presses together like she's suppressing a smile. "Minimalist. Modern. Black and white and grey."

"Is that so awful?"

"No, but this apartment isn't any of those. More like a cluttered box from the Great Depression."

"It's homey." I'm adamant.

There's no sign of a man in any, and oddly, no pictures with other relatives either. Where the hell are her parents?

It's a shit feeling, knowing the kid might not have a father or a grandfather at all. I can't wrap my head around it.

Having lost my old man, though, I know what it's like to be missing a dad.

Also, Salem deserves help.

After the day she's had, she shouldn't have to handle Arlo by herself, bouncing from one crisis to the next with dinner in between.

I have just enough time to polish off the remainder of my food before she reappears and joins me on the sofa, leaning back just like I am. Her thigh hovers about an inch from mine.

Don't notice her, you asshole. Keep your eyes glued to the wall.

Does it matter? It's not like I'm going to do anything about it, never mind the raging heat in my veins urging me to reach out and touch her.

"Thank you," she says again with a sigh. "I know you keep saying it's cool and it's all for business, but you saved my skin tonight. If there's any way I can repay you, Patton, please speak up."