"You look tired," she said, glancing back at him. "Long day?"
"Something like that."
"Work?"
"You could say that."
She smiled. Kael watched her move. The way her hips swayed slightly as she reached for cups. The way her blonde ponytail swished between her shoulder blades. The way the light blue dress stretched across her back when she leaned over.
She was beautiful.
And she had no idea who was sitting on her couch.
Kael let the silence stretch as Sarah hummed something—a lullaby, maybe, or a song from her childhood—completely at ease with a stranger in her home. The kettle began to hiss. Steam curled upward. The bungalow felt warm and safe and utterly disconnected from the violence that had occurred less than a day ago.
Click.
The kettle clicked off. Sarah poured two cups and brought them over, handing one to Kael before settling into the armchair across from him. She tucked her legs beneath her, cradling her own tea, looking at him with open curiosity.
