Page 107 of Heidi Lucy Loses Her Mind
“Thanks,” I say, slipping past her and into the shop.
Heidi’s comments about running her fingers through my hair made their way into my dreams, but not in an enjoyable way. I dreamed that she was playing with my hair, braiding it, putting it in pigtails, until a vaguely shadowy figure came and captured her from behind. I spent the rest of the dream looking for her, panicked and desperate, always running through molasses and never able to get enough oxygen. I woke up sweating and anxious.
So when I reach the storeroom and step inside, I lock the door behind me.
“Hi,” Heidi says, looking up at me from where she’s crouched next to a large box. “You’re here early.” She shoots me a smile, small but genuine, before turning her attention back to the box in front of her.
Her hair is long and loose today, and she’s got on a plain white t-shirt that makes her golden skin glow. She’s beautiful.
I maneuver my way over to her, my heart racing, my chest heaving as I look down at her. “I desperately want to kiss you,” I say hoarsely.
She glances back up at me, surprise flashing in her eyes, and then she stands up. “I think that can be arranged.” She rounds the box and steps up in front of me, tilting her head. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I say, moving closer to her, sliding one hand into her hair. “I had a bad dream, and I wanted to see you.”
“I’m sorry,” she says softly. Then, hesitantly, that precious woman goes up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine.
I breathe her in, my fingers curling around the back of her neck, one hand at her waist. Her lips are impossibly soft, tentative and sweet, and I let her take her time, moving at her pace.
I want to scoop her up and carry her away, somewhere safe, somewhere beautiful, where she can be protected and happy forever.
It’s only when her arms slide around my waist, her fingers tightening on the fabric of my shirt, that I let myself deepen the kiss. I tilt my head and slant my lips over hers, tasting her, listening to her little sigh of contentment as my heart soars and my body comes alive.
She is perfection.
I don’t know how long I lose myself in her lips, but by the time I hear a knock at the storeroom door, my pulse is pounding through my veins like I’ve just run ten miles. I press one last kiss to her lips before pulling back slightly, smiling down at her.
She removes her arms from around my waist and holds her hands up to her cheeks for a few seconds before fanning herself.
I can’t help my smirk at the sight of her flushed skin; I did that to her. I’m the one who has that effect on her, and my stupid male ego likes it.
“Let’s go back out there,” I say, taking her hand in mine. “Or I’m going to kiss you again, and then we’ll never leave.”
She doesn’t reply, but her cheeks maintain their pink flush, and my smile grows.
It feels weird, to be this happy when I know we’re about to go nudge our way into a killer’s home, but that’s what Heidi does to me. She makes me feel light and free and like anything is possible.
When we open the door to the storage room, Gemma is on the other side, one eyebrow raised, a knowing smirk on her lips. I ignore this completely and move past her. I hear her hissing something to Heidi, her voice giddy, but I just return to the front of the store and wait. I watch as they linger in the bookshelves, whispering together, with Heidi looking embarrassed and Gemma looking triumphant, and I smile.
“You ready?” I say when she finally makes her way to me.
“Yes,” she says after a second’s hesitation.
“We don’t have to go,” I add. “In fact, I’d really prefer not to.”
“I need to,” she says, looking apologetically at me. “I don’t necessarily want to, but I need to. You don’t have to come if you don’t want, but I really—”
“Stop it,” I say, my voice gruff. “If you’re going, I’m going. I’ve got a pocket knife too.” I had to dig around for it at my place, because I’m not the kind of guy who keeps a weapon on him at all times. I found it on the top shelf of my closet, covered in dust.
“All right,” Heidi says with a nod. “Let’s get this over with, then.”
We drive over to Maplewood in silence, the radio playing softly in the background, our hands linked together. I can’t help but hold tightly to her; there’s a lead weight in my gut, an underlying feeling that something might go wrong, and it’s making me anxious.
I let go of her hand when we get out of the car, but the second we’re next to each other walking up the driveway, I take hold again.
In fact, I might like to hold her hand for the rest of our lives. That could work, right? We could make that work?
When we reach the front door, Heidi takes several deep breaths. I watch her inhale and exhale, the gentle rise and fall of her chest and shoulders, as something inside me eases the tiniest bit.
