Pretties in Pink

21. Hallie

21

HALLIE

Where was I?

Two seconds, and I remembered I was on Ford’s boat.

Another two seconds, and I realised I wasn’t in the room I’d slept in last night. “My” room, he’d said. Vague memories flittered back—of dinner, of flirting and innuendos, of my brilliant idea to watch a movie in his bed.

Shit. I’d fallen asleep in his damn bed.

But where was he? I reached out, feeling blindly in the dark, but the space beside me was empty. After a quick inventory, I worked out that I was still fully clothed and he’d laid a fluffy blanket over me. It smelled of him—the musk of man mixed with woodsy cologne.

Should I stay here? Go back to my room? Wait, perhaps Ford was in my room? Should I check? What if he slept naked?

Damn, shouldn’t have had that thought…

The man might not have played football anymore, but he still had muscles. I’d felt the solid bulk of him when I put my hand on his chest last night.

I’m trapped on a yacht with the Hulk’s baby brother.

No, not trapped. I wanted to be there. But honestly, if someone had described this situation to me a month ago, I’d have freaked out. If they’d told me I’d be considering s*x, and with a cop no less, I’d have freaked out. And if they’d suggested I might contemplate having s*x on a boat with a cop who looked like an extra from Baywatch, I’d have freaked the hell out.

And it wasn’t just s*x, was it? I’d spent months learning how to please a man—or else—from a physical perspective, but Prestia wanted more. This wasn’t some meaningless fling. We ate dinner together. I had a room. He was coming over to have dinner with my friends.

And I had to stop calling him Prestia, for crying out loud. His name was Ford. And Ford was looking for a girlfriend, not a hook-up. A girlfriend. I knew next to nothing about being a girlfriend. My previous record for a relationship was six weeks. No way could I get enough of Ford in six weeks, and back then, I’d been able to put a man’s c**k in my mouth without heaving. What the fudging f**k was I meant to do? Hyperventilate? Oh, that was a great start.

I forced myself to focus on my breathing. In and out, in and out, in and out. Maybe I was reading this wrong? Perhaps he saw me as a challenge, and once he’d gotten me into bed, he’d lose interest?

But I didn’t think so.

He was the real deal.

Wasn’t he?

I closed my eyes again, but sleep was impossible, and when the dawn crept over the horizon, I gave up. Kellan could take the first driving stint later, and I’d get some rest then. For now, I might as well use the time to read through the Thomas file. How did a madman select his victims?

In the living room—the saloon—I flipped open my laptop and set to work. The Carmodys were obscenely rich, the Feinsteins gave the illusion of being well off, and the Metgoods had been comfortable, but the Thomases, they were dirt poor. Home was a trailer park, and not even a nice one. Just looking at the pictures took me back to my childhood. To days spent amusing myself outside while my mom sprawled drunk on the couch, to nights hiding under the covers while she fought with whatever waste of space she’d dragged home that week. Had Janiya Thomas experienced the same sense of hopelessness that I’d once felt?

“Hey.”

I looked up to find Prestia—Ford—watching me. He’d swapped his jeans for shorts and his boots for sneakers.

“Sorry I stole your bed.”

“Doesn’t matter. You looked peaceful sleeping, so I didn’t want to wake you. Figured trying to carry you back to your own room wouldn’t be a smart idea either.”

“You could have stayed.”

“No, I couldn’t. That wasn’t what you agreed to, plum. You have boundaries, walls, and I’m not gonna climb over them while you’re looking the other way.”

Until that moment, I’d been half wishing he’d stayed, but now I was glad he hadn’t because it showed me the type of man he really was. A gentleman who took consent seriously. I was in safe hands. Or not in safe hands because he wouldn’t touch me, but you get the point.

“Thank you. I mean that, but next time, you can stay. If there is a next time. I don’t want to assume…”

“There’ll be a next time, but it’s my turn to pick the movie.”

“You don’t like dinosaurs?”

“I don’t mind dinosaurs, but my dad directed that movie, and I know the diplodocuses—diplodoci?—whatever, they were three feet tall and made out of plastic. He sent me one as a souvenir, but I gave it to a buddy when I moved onto the boat.”

We really did come from two different worlds, didn’t we? Although a baby diplodocus would have been super cute.

“Why didn’t you say something before we started watching?”

“Because you picked it out, and you were looking forward to it.”

“But if you’d seen it already…”

“Okay, look at it this way—my dad probably got paid a royalty when we streamed it, so now my inheritance is three cents bigger. I watched the movie for purely selfish reasons. Feel better now?”

I pushed him playfully and used it as an excuse to get another feel of those muscles.

“You’re a dick.”

“I know, but I’m your d**k now, so get over it.”

Oh. Uh, wait. Whoa. He was mine? Or was he joking? No, he had his serious face on. I’d kind of hoped we were heading in that direction, but I’d never expected him to just come out and announce it like that. Ford was so…so straightforward. The butterflies in my stomach might have disagreed, but my head was grateful for his candidness.

“So what does ownership of a d**k get me? And don’t say I can pee standing up because we both know that’d be messy.”

Ford laughed, a deep chuckle that sent vibrations through my core. “Well, firstly, it’s a package deal. You get the d**k, but you have to put up with the rest of me too.”

“I can cope with that. And secondly?”

“Hmm… That’ll be more fun to work out as we go along.” He nodded past me to the laptop. “Starting work early?”

“I kept tossing and turning. You’re going jogging? Couldn’t you sleep either?”

“I usually run at this time in the morning.”

“Do you go to the gym as well?”

“Not at the moment.”

“So these muscles, they all come from the running?”

I ran my fingertips down his chest, but this time, I carried on to his abs. Six-pack. Or maybe an eight-pack. I’d need a better look to work out which.

“No, I do bodyweight exercises on the way. Push-ups, pull-ups, burpees, squats, lunges, that sort of thing. I joined a gym when I moved to Richmond, but it was too far from the station, so I cancelled the membership when I didn’t use it.”

“There’s a gym in our building, and I have a spare pass. Uh, just saying.” Nerves got the better of me. “Is it weird of me to offer that? Are we moving too fast? I mean, we’ve known each other for less than a week, and I already have stuff in your bathroom, and I’m not sure if that’s normal because I really have no frame of reference, and…”

“Do you think we’re moving too fast?”

“How should I freaking know?”

“Let me put it another way: do you want to slow down?”

Did I? “No.”

“There, that was easy, wasn’t it? And maybe I could use that spare gym pass from time to time.”

My pulse slowed. Ford, he had this steady presence, and it calmed me. No stress, no drama, just a sensible answer for everything.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll get the pass. And can you send me your licence plate number? I’ll ask building security to give you access to the parking garage.”

Was this what a proper, grown-up relationship was like? You just shared your stuff and then your bodies and then your lives until you became a couple? No longer Hallie and Ford but Hallie-and-Ford, a single unit? Cora had managed it with Lee, and they were getting married. Sky and Asher were living together, and they were both younger than me. Emmy-and-Black, Dan-and-Ethan, Mack-and-Luke. When I escaped from the house of horrors, I always figured I’d stay alone, that the only person I’d ever trust would be myself, and sometimes I had to remind myself that relationships were nothing unusual.

I could do this.

We could do this.

I stood on tiptoes, steadied myself with my hands on Ford’s biceps, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Have a good run, ristretto.”