Coming Home (Only Time Will Tell #1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

and makes me jump again. I actually start getting scared. She could be hurt for all I know, but then why come to me when she has Ryan at home?
    I make my way through the lounge, shouting, “I'm coming!” and rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I look a mess and she knows this is what I'll look like this early on a Saturday morning after a few drinks. So she had better be prepared for the sight.
    Quickly yanking the door open I start to shout, “Seriously woman, can you not knock at a...” trailing off as I realize it isn’t Nadine who storms past me and heads into my apartment.
    I watch as Kyle walks into the kitchen as I close the door and follow him, confused and well… confused. I watch him from the edge of the kitchen as he starts looking through my kitchen cupboards, eventually finding what he’s searching for and placing a plate on the kitchen island.
    I walk around and take a seat, still watching and trying to figure out if I'm dreaming still. “Make yourself at home,” I say sarcastically.
    He places a bagel on the plate and slides it in front of me before placing a to-go coffee cup next to it. “Thanks. I brought you breakfast.”
    No shit, Sherlock. “Breakfast? Why? More to the point, what the hell do you want?”
    “Nothing,” he says as he tosses the packaging in the trash. “I was just passing by and thought you might want something to eat. You sure drank a lot last night.”
    I rub my forehead, my alcohol induced headache slowly creeping up on me the more I wake up. “Seriously?”
    “Sure, why not?” he shrugs, then comes around the island and takes a seat next to me.
    I take a couple of sips of my latte and take a bite of my salmon and cream cheese bagel—my favorite—while trying to figure out the huge puzzle that's exploded in my head.
    I never told him what apartment number I lived in. Come to think of it, I never told him where I lived, period. He never asked me last night either, so how did he manage to whisper it to the driver before he got in the car?
    “How did you find out where I lived?” I ask, confusion etched across my face as I turn to look at him as he casually sips on his own coffee.
    He smirks around the cup as he holds it to his lips. “I have my sources.”
    “Sources? Nadine? Did she tell you? Did she give you my address?”
    “No, it wasn't Nadine.”
    I think long and hard, trying to figure out how else he could have gotten that information while I continue to eat and finish my bagel. “Mr. Johnson?”
    “Nope,” he says, his lips making a popping sound as he says it. “But you’re getting close.”
    My brain continues to work overtime, which is a lot of hard work considering the hangover that’s slowly trying to take hold. “How? Just tell me!”
    “Your work file,” he states flatly.
    He went through my records! “Why the hell would you do that? Can't you ask like a normal human being?” I shout at him.
    “Would you have told me?” he calmly asks me, my shouting not affecting him at all.
    I slam the coffee cup down. “No!”
    “That's why, then.”
    I stare at him open-mouthed. He can't see how wrong this is, not even in the tiniest element.
    I pick up my empty plate and get up, walking around into the kitchen and tossing it in the sink, causing it to clatter loudly and bust into two. The noise rings like a fire alarm at close range in my head. I'm never drinking — again! I place my hands on my hips and take a couple of deep breaths, waiting for the pain and irritation to ease. When it doesn't, I reach into one of the cupboards and pull the medicine box from the top shelf, and grab the Advil to take. When I've swallowed them, I turn and look back at Kyle, who is looking at my legs. Damn shorts. “Excuse me. My face is up here,” I say directing him with my finger which he follows with a slight smile.  
    “Sorry.”
    Leaning back against the counter, I cross my arms across my stomach, staring at him and trying to figure this out. Why the hell is