Page 91 of The Woman By the Lake

High Time

Riggs

In a rare moment of coincidental synchronization that, if Riggs had the headspace to give to it, he really should give it that headspace, he rolled up behind Nadia’s Range Rover a little over a mile from his lane.

He found she went a studious six miles over the speed limit on a low traffic, rural road, which had him laughing his balls off.

Something that he also should have given headspace to, considering, after what went down with Bubbles, he’d been in no mood to laugh.

They slid in beside each other outside his house, and he tooted his horn.

He knew she got him instantly when she gave him a jaunty thumbs up, turned, grabbed some stuff, then jumped out of her car carrying a big, brown paper bag with handles, a little, white paper bag he knew held treats from Aromacobana, her purse over her shoulder, and a white paper coffee cup with drawing on it.

She opened the door and leaned in, ordering, “Here, take this.”

He took her coffee and put it in the holder.

“And this,” she went on.

He took the bakery bag and put it between the seats.

She tossed the other bag in the footwell, nabbed the hand hold, put her foot on the rim of the door, then heaved herself up.

And fell to her back foot.

She tried again.

And fell back.

A third time she remained suspended in air for a second.

And fell back.

“Jesus,” he said through laughter. “I don’t have a problem getting in.”

“You’re six inches taller than me,” she snapped.

“Ledger doesn’t either.”

“Huh,” she forced out, then gave it her all and landed in the seat. She turned to him. “There!” she cried triumphantly.

He grinned at her. “Well done, princess.”

She slammed her door, grabbed the bag in the footwell, and demanded, “Look!”

She then pulled out some circular placemats that looked like crushed leather and were forest green.

“Aren’t they perfect?” she asked.

“They actually are.”

She shoved them back in the bag, noting, “You sound surprised.”

He put the truck in reverse. “I didn’t know they made placemats for people with dicks. And belt up.”

She reached for her seatbelt and educated, “They make everything for everybody.”

“Good to know,” he muttered and headed down the lane.

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