Page 98 of Driftwood Daffodil

I let out a breath and pinched the bridge of my nose, “Atlee…”

His hand cut me off by clamping over my mouth.

“Shh,” he whispered and pointed up at the mirror as Nova walked back in the room.

That thing was useful, that much I’d give him. We had a clear shot of the room and weren’t at risk of being seen. We stayed safely tucked away in the shadows and watched as Novalee snatched a towel off a shelf and stormed back out. Guess she was giving the baby a bath after all.

Once the coast was clear, Atlee tugged on my sleeve and moved to the right. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“The bathroom is one window down and around the corner.”

I almost didn’t want to ask, “How do you know that?”

“Her grandma had a shower about forty minutes ago,” Atlee paused to look back over his shoulder. “I don’t recommend seeing that show.”

“I don’t think you should be seeing any shows.” I growled a little too loud.

We both froze and waited to see if anyone heard us. Once we were sure the coast was clear, Atlee shot me a dirty look and continued around the corner.

Honestly I didn’t know where that anger came from? So what if Atlee spied on Nova. She was a job, and he was part of it.

Atlee ducked down, crawled around the corner, and muttered, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to fuck her.”

“I don’t care if you fuck her.” I grumbled while following.

“Uh huh?” he stopped below a window with a light on. “Is that why you kissed her?”

What?” “How do you know about that?”

They left long before that happened.

“She bitched about it an hour and a half ago.”

She did?“To who?”

“Herself.” Atlee answered while raising the mirror.

“She bitched to herself?”

“Yeah,” he slid his gaze my way. “She does that a lot.”

Maybe the kiss did get to her? Whether or not that information was useful was yet to be seen. I sure as hell wasn’t about to start making out with her.

Both of our eyes were drawn up to mirror as the sound of running water cut through the quiet of the night. We watched as Novalee sat on the edge of the tub and swirled her hand in the filling water. I couldn’t help but imagine my hands wrapping around her throat to hold her under.

I could almost see desperation fill her eyes and feel her struggle to break free. Then she lifted her arm and used her fingers to moisten her neck, and my mind was filled with another image. One where the wetness on her skin didn’t come from water, but sweat and need.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the image out of my head and attempted to change the subject, “Did she bitch about anything else?”

Something had to irritate her. I’d take anything at this point, so long as it didn’t involve me touching her.

“Ah, let’s see…” Atlee looked up, searching his mind. “She came home, couldn’t find the shorts she was looking for, then bitched about that. Her Maw Maw’s chicken was too dry – it smelled delicious to me though – then someone ate the last piece of pie. Her friend Memphis called – they bitched about you. She went to the store to get some milk – two percent because Knox can’t handle any higher. Then she planted a shaving cream bomb on some kids bikes – that shit was hilarious. After that she talked to her brother, stomped around her room while grumbling about you kissing her, helped her neighbor chase a raccoon, then she came home bitched about you some more, whined that she couldn’t have a tea party with her nephew and started singing.”

My brow arched. I didn’t know what else to say other than, “How long have you been here?”

He looked down at his watch, “Four hours, thirty-seven minutes and fifteen seconds.”

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