Practice Makes Perfect (When in Rome, #2)(48)

I turn a slow glare down at Amelia. She laughs. Dude takes this moment to snap a picture and then scurries off.

“If I weren’t tasked to protect you right now…”

Amelia gives me a smile that’s the equivalent of the little yellow smiley emoji baring all its teeth. “Now that the major threat is neutralized, it looks like you can say hi to Annie.”

I inhale in a long slow breath through my nose and turn my body toward the crowd again. “You gotta knock it off with the matchmaking, Amelia. You’re just going to be disappointed. And besides,” I say, scanning from the west to south entrances, “three days is nothing. Definitely not enough to make me compromise your safety by needing to talk to her before we go.”

But it is enough to have me sneaking out of Mabel’s Inn after dark that night and driving to Annie’s house—leaving my truck on a side road and then cutting across lawns to get to her window.





CHAPTER TWENTY


Annie





A light tap sounds against my window. At first I think it’s a bug trying to get in, but then it happens again and again, growing a little louder each time. I go to the window and peek through the curtains, and then smother a scream with my hand. There’s a man outside my window. But then I register the blue-gray eyes and the dark brows and the tattooed hand as he raises a finger to his lips. It’s William Griffin.

Why is he outside my window at ten o’clock at night? Even worse, I’m all snug in my banana-print pajamas. He can’t see me like this. It doesn’t seem like I have a choice, though.

Quietly I unlatch the window and raise it. The sound of crickets, the feel of the humid summer night, and the dangerous smile aimed at me all combine to make sure this becomes the strongest core memory of my life.

“Hi,” Will says in little more than a whisper. “Can I come in?” He asks this like he’s standing at my front door—perfectly normal. Allow me to take your hat and coat, sir.

“Um, yeah, of course, come on in.” I step back and watch in awe as he easily drops a leg over the windowsill, folds his tall frame, and ducks his head under the window. He maneuvers the rest of his body through until he’s here, standing in my room with me.

“I remember that being easier when I was sixteen.”

My eyes widen. “You snuck through windows when you were sixteen?”

“You didn’t?” And then his eyes drop to my PJs and his grin widens, confirming the answer to that question for him. “You have bananas all over your pajamas.”

I clear my throat lightly and regret all of my life choices. “Uh, yeah. Well, I wasn’t expecting company, so I got ready for bed as usual.”

A small smile touches his mouth, and then my breath catches when he reaches out and pinches the hem of my sleeve between the fingers of his butterfly hand. “Your usual being banana-printed sleepwear?” He doesn’t say it in a mean way. More as a curiosity than anything.

“My full name is Annabell. So my siblings call me Anna-banana. I have an entire drawer full of banana-themed PJs.” And underwear. “It’s basically the only kind of sleepwear I own. Is that pathetic? Should I burn them all?”

I’ve always loved my banana PJs. I generally like who I am as a whole, but standing here in front of Dark and Mysterious Mr. Tattoo has me feeling the need to defend myself. To question whether this is a strange way to live as an adult woman or not.

Will is looking down at me as if stuck in a daze as he rubs his thumb back and forth delicately over the fabric of my sleeve. Every so often his thumb brushes my wrist, and I feel like the physical manifestation of static electricity.

“Anna-banana,” says Will quietly. He couldn’t help trying out my nickname at least once. His eyes pop up to me, and I see something compellingly honest in them. “Promise me, no matter what you decide to change about yourself, this will not be one of them.”

I let out a sigh of relief and then laugh before I realize his solemn expression. He’s dead serious. Not laughing in the least. He wants me to promise I’ll never stop wearing these bananas. Will a contract be drawn up next?

“Okay, I’ll keep them.” Oddly, something in me relaxes and settles in a way I normally can’t around other people. And then I ask, “What are you doing here? And…how did you know this was my room?”

Will releases the hem of my shirt and steps back. “I didn’t,” he says with a crooked grin. “Every other room in the house was dark, though, so I thought I’d try my luck with this one first. It was a gamble.”

“What would you have done if this was Emily or Maddie’s room?”

He shrugs. “Pretended to be drunk and lost.”

I laugh. “You really gave this some thought.”

“Always be prepared—that’s my motto.”

“And by yours you mean the Boy Scout motto.”

“Is that where I’ve heard it?” He makes a skeptical thinking noise before turning away to make himself at home in my room. He’s not shy about it, strolling around like he owns the place. Maybe this is the bodyguard side of him that’s used to sweeping locations and inspecting every inch before letting Amelia enter. Oddly, there’s something sort of fun about watching him as he lazily peruses everything inside these four walls.