Page 25 of Safe With Me
“Release, my ass. Told her if she showed up with that damn camera, she’d lose her share of the inheritance.”
Wow.
I skipped church on Sunday and spent the day foraging, letting the woods soothe me, anticipating how my home would smell green and fresh once my kitchen overflowed with the leaves and flowers I found.
Two bushy chrysanthemums in mauve and rust waited on my porch. Perfect colors to dry and use in harvest swags.
If I had a way to market them. Maybe if I went through my phone and contacted my previous customers . . . so I made a cup of spiced tea and started a list in my journal.
Now, on Monday, I flipped through, making notes about client preferences. The office door swung open, and I glanced up, professional smile in place. At my first glimpse of my sister, that smile dropped immediately.
Elizabeth stalked across the lobby, boots thumping on the hardwood. Her fat flat-iron curls bounced with each step. “You need to talk to Daddy today. Like right now.”
With a deliberate jiggle of the mouse, I brought up Scott’s calendar on the screen. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Hannah, I am not playing with you. Stop this . . . mess.” Scowling, she crossed her arms over her chest. That sweater, those boots . . . yep, they looked familiar. She’d raided The Niche stock again. “Come back to the store and talk to Daddy.”
I squinted at the large computer monitor. “I’m sorry, I don’t see anything with your name on Mr. Barlow’s calendar. Or Ms. Yates.”
She slapped both palms on the desk, leaning toward me. “I’ll make you regret this.”
Andrea’s office door opened, and Scott emerged, pulling it shut behind him. His sharp blue gaze fell on Elizabeth, and he frowned. “Why are you here?”
Elizabeth straightened, shaking back her hair. “I’m talking to my sister.”
With a soft scoff, he planted his hands at his waist, a wide-legged stance I’d bet money he used in the courtroom. “Oh, you need to get the hell out of my office.”
On a haughty sniff, Elizabeth lifted her nose. “You can’t throw me out of a public space.”
“Lord save us from football coaches teaching civics,” he muttered. His brows dipped, then his voice slowed like he talked to a small child he didn’t consider very bright. “This is my office, not a public space. Best thing for you, little girl, is to stop harassing my employee and find yourself on the other side of that door.”
Elizabeth crossed her arms. “Make me.”
Oh, Lord. Like I said, Scott Barlow had a lot in common with my daddy, including how he went hard once someone crossed the line.
He loped to my desk, hit the speaker function on the phone and tapped in a number. Two loud rings filled the air before Dix Singleton’s voice filled the room.
He’d called the chief of police. Directly.
“Hey, Scott, what’s up?”
“Dix, I’ve got an unruly trespasser in the office who refuses to leave after being asked. Might need you to come around here.”
“I’m walking out for lunch. I can be there in five.”
Elizabeth scowled at me, a deadly expression that would have put me underground if looks killed. “I’m not done.”
Fixing Scott with the same look, she spun on one handmade-in-Oklahoma boot heel and clomped out, slamming the door behind her. The sidelight windows rattled, and I winced, flinching at the stab of anxiety under my ribs.
Shaking his head, Scott huffed a quiet laugh. “Thanks, Dix, enjoy your lunch.”
“Call me if you need me.” The call dropped.
“Your parents raised you on Disney, right?” Scott folded his arms. “Because your sister is a young Cruella de Vil.”
I gazed at the door, my chest tight and throat aching. She wasn’t always like this. I blinked hard. “Thank you.”
“Don’t.” Scott shrugged. “This is a no bullshit zone, and that was some shit. She starts bothering you at home, I’ll help you with a protection order.”
