Wickingham Way (A Harbour Falls Mystery #3) by S.R. Grey Read Free Book Online Page B

our legs intertwined, I couldn’t imagine life getting much better.
    One afternoon, as especially fierce winds battered the covered windows—making them shake and rattle like nobody’s business—I plopped down on the sofa, a book of poetry in my hand. Adam, all comfortable at the other end, was perusing some title on military history.
    How boring , I thought.
    I didn’t know for sure if his book was boring, but come on.
    I must not have been too far off the mark, as Adam didn’t seem to mind at all the many times I interrupted him so I could share various passages of poetry that moved me.
    After about the tenth interruption, Adam tossed his military history book to the coffee table and declared, “I give up.”
    At first I thought I’d angered him, but then he smiled.
    We ended up sitting, shoulders pressed together, with Adam reciting the passages I most adored back to me.
    “I love you, Maddy,” he said after finishing one particularly stirring verse.
    I murmured the sentiment in return, and then we kissed until our lips grew swollen.
    When we finally resumed our respective readings, Adam decided it was time to share his book with me . Yep, the one outlining military history. I think he did it to get a laugh, or possibly to bore me to tears. Whatever his motivation, he opened the book and proceeded to point to a multitude of military weapons, giving me his take on each one.
    My eyes glazed over as I tried to listen to his opinions on cannons used during the Civil War. When I could take no more, though, I stifled a yawn.
    “Am I boring you?” Adam asked, his tone mock offended.
    The man knew full well I had no interest in military weapons crap.
    “No, no, not at all…” I waved my hand at some illustration of a cannon. “Do continue.”
    My smartass response earned me a thorough tickling, and that, of course, led to more kissing. Adam pressed me down into the cushions, his hot mouth devouring mine. But this time we kept on going. Needless to say, poetry and military history were forgotten that day.
    Though most days went smoothly, Adam and I did have some spats. One arose on a Friday afternoon. I was feeling especially restless as the first weekend alone drew near. A large storm had dumped yet another foot of snow on an already thickly blanketed landscape. Agent Lenehan still somehow made it out to the cabin, but she stayed only long enough to pick up the flash drive with the updated Wickingham Way files.
    And then she was gone.
    I stood at the front door after she’d driven away, making no attempt to close it. “I’m so sick of snow. Enough already,” I bitched to Adam, who was reclined on the sofa.
    “Madeleine, close the door,” he chastised distractedly, barely looking up from his laptop. “You’re letting all the cold air in.”
    “Sorry,” I muttered as I slammed the door, shutting us back into our own little world.
    Most days I welcomed being locked away with Adam, but this day it irked me to no end.
    “What’s wrong with you?” Adam asked as he set his laptop on the coffee table. He’d finally given up on his work.
    Truthfully, I was itching for a fight, feeling stir crazy from having been housebound all damn week. “Nothing,” I mumbled as I made my way over to the sofa.
    I perched on the edge, and Adam sat up straighter. “Quit acting like a child, Madeleine,” he sniped.
    It seemed Adam was in a foul mood as well.
    “Quit treating me like one,” I shot back.
    A few choice words ensued on both our parts. But after Adam made a rather biting comment about how he’d rather be taking his chances in Harbour Falls than be stuck in the cabin another day with me, I choked back a sob.
    Adam sighed and raked his fingers through dark hair that was in need of a trim. “I didn’t mean that,” he murmured.
    But it was too late; his comment had already damaged. I stared down at my hands in my lap, at a loss for words.
    In a soft voice, Adam said, “Come here, Maddy.” He patted the spot