Sinners on Sunset by Dunbar Debra

Author:Dunbar, Debra
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Debra Dunbar LLC
Published: 2021-03-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

I awoke with no clue where I was. My mouth was dry. My skin and hair were gritty with sandy dirt. I was in my underwear and bra, on a king-sized bed, covered with what felt like a million-thread-count sheet and a lightweight blanket.

Cool air trickled from a nearby floor vent. Sweet Jesus, air conditioning.

Sitting up, I noted the mahogany head and footboard of the sleigh bed, a set of matching dressers, some watercolor prints of the ocean decorating the walls. The only personal items were my clothes neatly folded on a leather wingback chair with my backpack beside them.

The Fixers. The tranq dart. Bishop. This must be his house. While I could see HB taking me home, it had been Bishop in the truck with me last night. Plus, this room definitely did not have any sort of female vibes to it.

I jumped out of bed, then caught sight of myself in the mirror and winced. Shower. I needed to shower and clean up a bit before I went in search of my host.

Just to check, and because I was nosy, I pulled up a few of the dresser drawers. They were full of men’s shirts, men’s socks, and men’s underwear, all neatly folded and wrinkle free as if this were a department store display and not a guy’s bedroom. One door opened up to a walk-in closet with the clothes organized and color coordinated with near OCD attention. Strange. I hadn’t expected this from the guy who looked like a surfer who did CrossFit three times a week and drove an old truck with primer paint on one of the bumpers. But his truck was very clean. I didn’t recall ever seeing old chip bags or napkins or even so much as a nose print on the window from Bob. Maybe the guy just liked his belongings orderly and his space neat.

The second door revealed a bathroom, and I darted inside.

After taking care of business, I availed myself of the toothbrush and paste still packaged and left neatly by the sink, then I hopped into the shower. It wasn’t as gigantic as the one at the Canyon Drive house, but the water was steaming hot, and the soap and shampoos left me smelling of cloves, sandalwood, and ocean breezes—a scent I’d come to associate with Bishop.

I dried with a fluffy towel, combed my hair, then dressed in spare clothes from my backpack. On impulse, I checked the wicker hamper in the bathroom, hoping to find a shirt to steal. Sleeping in a shirt that smelled like Bishop? I loved the idea, even though I knew I probably wouldn’t get all that much sleeping done.

The hamper was empty, so I did the next best thing and grabbed a button-down from the closet and a T-shirt from the dresser. My hand hovered over the underwear, but I decided that would be crossing the line into weirdo territory. Stuffing the shirts into my backpack, I gathered up my belongings and headed out of the bedroom to hopefully find my host.

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