The Voice From 808 by Sandra A Sigfusson

Author:Sandra A Sigfusson [Sigfusson, Sandra A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sandra A. Sigfusson
Published: 2020-01-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

I make us a quick lunch of roast beef sandwiches while Soren enjoys his cold beer. He watches me in silence as I clear up the table, pop the dishes in the dishwasher and rinse out the kitchen sink. I look back over my shoulder and wonder why he’s so quiet. “What’s on your mind, 808?”

“You. It’s always you,” he says, then tips the last of his beer down his throat.

I step forward, take the empty beer from his hand and grin. “I’m sorry the first attempt at entering the apartment went so bad.”

“Don’t. It’s forgotten.”

“How am I going to figure out what that key is for or why Bryce is so keen on finding it?”

Soren leans forward on the kitchen table and folds his arms. “Can the mystery of the key be dealt with after you return from Hawaii?”

I nod. “Yes. I’ll put all that crap aside until I return. If it’s been a year since the key went missing then another two weeks won’t matter.”

“Come here,” he says, as a sexy smile forms on his lips.

I round the table and stand beside him, then lean down to kiss him. Soren pulls me to his lap and holds me close. “The only key I’m interested in is the one to your heart, Joss. I want you to relax and enjoy everything that Hawaii has to offer. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed.”

“So, no fibbing on the brochures?”

“No. It’s all true. Absolute paradise in every sense of the words.”

“I’m excited. How long is the flight?”

“Just over six hours. Do you like flying?”

“I’ve only ever been on a plane once, when Michael and I went on a honeymoon to Barbados.”

“Nice. I’ve been there once.” Soren kisses me and I realize we’ve just brought up Michael again. Before I close my eyes to savor his sweet mouth on mine, I spot a picture of Michael on my bookshelf. I have to take those pictures down while Soren is here. Especially the one on my bedside table. When we go to bed tonight, I don’t want a picture of my dead husband staring at him – or me, for that matter. Our kiss deepens and I’m aroused again. I smile and weave my fingers through his hair. “What’s on your mind?” he asks.

“You. Always you.”

“I like that answer,” he says and kisses me again. “Can you give me two minutes to use the bathroom again? Those light beers are going through me quick.”

I nod, appreciating the fact that his brief exit from the room will give me time to remove pictures of Michael. I stand and let him get up from the chair. He holds me close to his chest and kisses the top of my head before heading to the bathroom. Once he closes the door, I race to the bookshelf and my bedside table to remove the pictures. I plump up the pillows on my bed, pretending I’m busy fussing in my bedroom when he returns to the kitchen.

“You got your room cleaned up?” he says, referring to my FaceTime hurricane mess from last week.

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