Read Online In Your Arms: A Small Town Love Story (Safe Haven Book 1) by Erin Sloane - Free Book Online Page A

person he was and learned her own lesson about judging books by covers.
    As she straightened and stretched again, she heard the even footfall and long stride of a man, across the kitchen. Damn .
    “Don’t get up. Keep stretching until you’re done.”
    Adam.
    “Big week, huh?”
    Marlo stood. “It’s always a big week around here.”
    “Yeah, I bet. Look, I’m bushed and you look pretty tired, too. I’m going to head back to the apartment. I’ll walk you back to the house, if you like.”
    “I’m okay.”
    “Sure you are, but it’s dark. We walked down together and I’m not keen on leaving you here to walk back alone.”
    “Maybe I’m not ready to go.” Why was she being so defiant? She was more than ready to go.
    “I think you are, but I’ll wait.”
    Her eyes closed in a little mark of defeat. “You’re right; I’d like to get home.”
    She walked this path several times each week, usually alone. Tonight they walked in silence but she could still feel him, feel an intimacy as if they were connected in some way. A little piece of her guard dropped when he was around, so that she didn’t have to keep such a vigilant watch on her surroundings.
    She was conscious of their breathing, the matching cadence of their step, and his closeness even though they kept several feet apart. When they reached Adam’s car she barely paused. “Good night, Adam.” She continued walking as she spoke.
    He caught hold of her sleeve. “Wait. Marlo. You and I…me, it’s complicated, okay?”
    “It always is.” She took a deep breath, struggling to control her voice. She needed to get away from him, the dark, and that voice. That gorgeous, kind, wrap-me-in-warmth voice.
    As if reading her mind he stepped toward her, into her space. He took her hand, delaying her departure, and bent to gently kiss her on her forehead. “Don’t judge me yet,” he whispered, allowing her to pull her hand from his grasp.
    As she did, her fingers brushed across his wedding band. “I have to go.” Turning for the house she dismissed the lesson she’d learned earlier in the evening. His gold ring was the cover to a book she wouldn’t be opening.

6
    A fter a short drive , Adam let himself into the apartment he was renting. The room had classic short-term rental décor, comfortable but not homely enough to make you want to stick around and have your mates over. The entire complex had this theme that was all brown-bear-and-wilderness but was situated too far out of the woods, and too close to the harbor, to pull it off.
    The apartment was completely devoid of anything personal. On the walls hung the usual repro artwork giving the place the ambience of a home-furnishings catalog. In his younger days he wouldn’t have noticed, but having made a home with a woman he loved, the stark and impersonal nature of the apartment disappointed him each time he entered. Thank God this was a temporary arrangement.
    He poured himself a nightcap and stepped out into the warm night air onto the balcony overlooking the abandoned pool area. He looked at the pool, then at the whisky he’d poured. Setting the glass down, Adam returned inside, changed into a swimsuit and headed for the pool. He was edgy and could remove the sharpness through alcohol or a swim.
    Their home became a house after Emma’s death. The memory of her didn’t haunt the place. He never caught a glimpse of her, nor the sound of her laughter, or her scent; instead the house was simply bleak and empty.
    At first he had reached to the bottle for a bit of clichéd comfort. After a few mornings of stellar headaches and churning nausea, his liver joined in to confirm what his brain was trying to tell him—self-medicating with alcohol wasn’t going to achieve anything more than a major hangover. The only way to emerge from his hell was to keep in peak physical and emotional condition.
    Physically pushing himself had helped in the start. Hurt that was tangible—the screaming muscles and fire