Page 25 of The Woman By the Lake

And Riggs knew exactly what that was about. He felt it flow straight through his soul.

Goddamn.

Fuck him and fuck Harry Moran.

He’d enjoyed his last visit in town, grabbed some groceries, came back to his place and picked up the mess around his house.

Once he’d hit the shower, ran a comb through his hair and dressed, he went back to the window to see she wasn’t on the pier.

Probably inside, making dinner.

It was time to head out.

He nabbed one of the bottles and made his way to the trail.

The lanterns on her back porch were lit, along with the line of lights Brenda had asked him to tack up around the edges of the porch roof. They were Christmas lights covered in alternating pink, blue, green and yellow plastic flowers. Dave had hated them. Riggs wasn’t a fan either. Brenda was gleeful the minute she saw them up.

Now, he got it.

That tableau suited Nadia.

More to the point, it was peaceful and pretty, and it suited what Riggs felt Nadia needed.

He walked up the steps to the back porch and frowned at the screen door.

He’d had several conversations with Dave about that old wooden door with the big screen in it. The cabin needed a secure storm door, and not only because they got storms. It was safer. Anybody could jump right through that screen without much effort. A storm door would pose a problem to someone who wanted to get in that the person inside wanted to keep out.

Dave and Brenda had dumped a load into that cabin (mostly Brenda), and Riggs could understand why Dave tried to find things to save money on.

Nadia there now, Riggs reckoned they could have done without the flower lights and the fucking pillows everywhere and bought decent security doors.

He knocked on the wood, and his frown intensified because even the sound of his knuckles striking made it sound rickety.

She appeared at the top of the hall. Her mass of hair pulled in a high ponytail. No makeup, wearing a dark-green sundress with tiny pink flowers on it that hit above her knees, the thick straps tied in bows on top of her shoulders. Her feet were bare. Her skin glowed with a light tan.

In other words, she was just as fuckable as the last two times he saw her when her hair was a mess from sleep, she was wearing slouchy clothes and her blue eyes were shooting icicles at him.

Except more.

The thing was, she was wearing an apron with big, bright flowers over the dress.

Never in his life had he seen anyone wear an actual apron, not to mention one that looked thrown forward in time from the fifties.

Even so, it didn’t surprise him in the least that she did—his prim and proper princess telling him the weekday rules were to quiet down at nine, and weekends at midnight.

Though, it did make him want to bust out laughing.

Fortunately, he didn’t do that, and when her gorgeous face went cold at the sight of him, he lifted up the bottle of wine and said, “Peace offering.”

She hesitated a moment before she moved down the hall and stood opposite him without making that first move to open the screen door between them.

She also didn’t say anything, though she took a good look at the wine.

So he spoke. “I was a dick. You were right. I’m not used to having anyone living close, and I didn’t factor that into my plans for last night. I get that you wouldn’t feel safe coming over and asking us to keep it down. I also get you shouldn’t have to. In future, I’ll have a mind.”

She didn’t say anything or move, which sucked, but considering the little he knew of her, it also wasn’t surprising.

So he bent, put the bottle on the porch to the side of the door and straightened.

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