Page 157 of Share with Me

“Maybe I’ll put him on the payroll for insurance.” Brinley chuckled.

Tobias rolled his eyes. “See what I have to put up with, Meg?”

“She gets things done, for sure,” Meg said.

“Now that we’re all lovey-dovey, could you do me a favor?” Brinley asked. “Hug and make up.”

“What?” Meg said. “I’m not touching him.”

“Alonzo or hug?”

Tobias moaned something unintelligible and made the first step toward Meg.

Brinley watched them hug and then glanced at her watch. She had to leave now if she were to make it to the Seaside Chapel Women’s Bible Study. “Hey, I said hug and make up, not hug and make out.”

Tobias stepped away from Meg.

“Four days,” Brinley warned them. “You have four days.”

* * *

Brinley leftTobias and Meg in some sort of unspoken truce as she headed down the road toward Seaside Chapel. Olivia Gonzalez lived across the street from the church. The rain hadn’t subsided when Brinley arrived. She wished she could park closer, but there were cars in the driveway and up and down the street.

Four houses away on the narrow street, she got out of Dad’s nondescript SUV and reminded herself to buy her own car next although Dad did say he didn’t mind her using his car perpetually. Thing was, he had meant his Bugatti. The last thing she dared to do was to park a two-million-dollar car in a garage that didn’t have the same level of security as the Brooks estate.No, thank you.

Since she had returned to St. Simon’s, she had been driving this SUV, which Malik, Mr. Security, said was the safest for her with its ballistic windshield. The reinforced SUV door was super heavy. She had to put her entire weight on it to get it closed. That was why Malik had insisted she used this SUV above all the other vehicles Dad had.

Seriously, I need my own car.

The irony of getting out of a secure vehicle only to walk about unescorted at dusk wasn’t lost on her.

With a Publix apple pie in one arm, an umbrella in the other, and her tote bag with Bible and iPad hanging off a shoulder, Brinley arrived at Pastor Gonzalez’s house and was greeted by his two teenage daughters. They took the pie from her and showed her to the family room where about ten or so women had gathered. Brinley didn’t think she was late at all. Apparently some of the women had come earlier to gab.

Skye Langston waved to her and patted an empty spot on the couch. It seemed to Brinley that she had saved that spot for her. Nice. As Brinley sat down, a little teacup dog came up and brushed past her jeans.

“Good to see you,” Skye said.

“Good to see you too.” Brinley saw the Band-Aid on Skye’s palm. “What happened to you?”

Skye brushed it off. “Cooking accident. Hot handle. Happens sometimes.”

“You cook a lot?”

“I’m a personal chef.”

Brinley’s eyebrow rose up. “Really?”

“Have to put my Le Cordon Bleu training to good use.”

“I could use a personal chef.” Anyone would be better than Mom’s personal chefs who had come and gone.

Around them, more people arrived and looked for seats.

“Let’s talk. One of my clients cancelled and I do need a new client. What’s your email?” Skye typed it into her tablet. “When do you want me to call you?”

“How about next week? I’m moving into a new house this weekend. Kinda busy. Do you usually cook and bring or come and cook?”

“I do both.”

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