She closed her eyes and the vision of Lloyd Zenko’s face twisting in pain as he lay dying from a gunshot wound filled her mind.

She blinked the image away and rinsed her hair under the spray. Turned the temperature to cold to wake herself up before climbing out and wrapping a warm towel around her body and another around her hair. She stepped into her bedroom and decided to pull on her brushed-cotton plaid pjs. They were hardly seductive and sent a clear message she wasn’t looking for anything romantic. And this way she could fall straight into bed as soon as they’d eaten.

Her cheeks heated at the thought of falling into bed with Shane Livingstone and she immediately pushed the idea away.

Bad idea. Terrible idea. And one that wouldn’t quite quit.

Her stomach gurgled and reminded her exactly how long it had been since she’d last eaten. She towel-dried her hair before dragging a brush through the straggly mess on her head and quickly braiding it. Her reflection in the mirror looked about fifteen.

Fourteen had been a good age. Fifteen had been utter Hell.

She ignored the direction her thoughts had taken, turned off the light and headed downstairs.

Shane stood barefoot in her kitchen pulling takeout cartons from the oven with his bare fingers.

“I have oven gloves somewhere—”

“Not a problem.”

He’d found cutlery, dishes and had placed an open bottle of beer on the counter. He started digging into the food, as if somehow knowing she wouldn’t be able to eat unless he did so first.

She jumped in surprise when he handed her the plate he’d filled. Followed by the beer.

“Thanks.”

Her dining table was covered in boxes of books she should donate but couldn’t bring herself to part with. Eating in the lounge on the couch felt too relaxed and potentially dangerous. She climbed up on the breakfast stool instead. The food was delicious. Spicy but not too hot.

Shane stood on the kitchen side of the island and ate standing up.

Despite her exhaustion she was painfully aware that the two of them were once again alone in her home. It felt different from Monday when he’d checked her security. Different from the time they spent together on the task force. This felt intimate, more like a friendship, or even a date. Maybe it was because of that fake kiss they’d shared which had felt more authentic than anything she’d experienced. Maybe it was because they’d gone through hell together today.

She liked him and thought he liked her. But maybe that was wishful thinking on her part. That scrappy desire-to-belong thing still fighting to stay alive after all the years.

She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she finished the whole plate without saying a word. Shane went back for seconds and she had a little more Pad Thai.