Page 26 of Faking the Pass
A cloud passed over her face, and she went a little pale. “Um… sure. But I’ll probably stay with Danielle for a while first. She’s my best friend.”
Rosie’s tone was funny… uncertain sounding. And maybe a little… scared?
I nodded, trying to figure out what she’d have to be scared of. “Makes sense. Probably better not to be alone right now after what you’ve been through.”
She didn’t respond, just took another big bite of food. I was glad to see her eating. She was too thin, and hopefully the buttery, cheesy eggs would alleviate the hangover.
“So, you’re going to need a plane ticket,” I said, stating the obvious. “Want me to drive you over to Bellevue Manor so you can get your phone and purse or whatever? Then I could take you to the hotel so you can get the rest of your things from the bell desk. I haven’t taken any pain meds yet today.”
Rosie shook her head. “Wilder said the hotel would be staked out by the paparazzi. They’ll be waiting for me there. And I don’t want you to go to any more trouble for me. I feel really bad for invading your life like this.”
She gestured toward my wrapped shoulder and arm sling. “You’ve got enough on your plate as it is without some ditzy runaway bride interfering.”
“You’re not ditzy,” I corrected.
I didn’t like hearing her run herself down like that. She’d done it last night, too, calling herself an idiot.
“Well after yesterday, I don’t exactly look like a genius, do I?”
She smacked herself on the forehead and then grimaced. “Ow. Speaking of, I just realized I don’t have any way topaya driver, even if I was able to order a ride without my phone. So yeah… if you could drive me over to the wedding venue to get it, I would really appreciate it. I promise, that’s the last thing I’ll ever ask of you.”
“You haven’t asked anything of me,” I pointed out. “I offered to let you stay the night. And I’m the one who decided to make you breakfast. It’s really no big deal. Let me go get my wallet and keys and change out of my workout clothes.”
“Okay, thanks. Again.”
“When you finish eating, you should step out onto the deck and look at the view,” I suggested. “This is a really pretty spot. You can sometimes see some whale spout out there, and you might even spot Romeo and Juliet, our local swan couple. They hang out in the tidal pools in this cove from time to time.”
I pointed to the French doors that led to my deck. “Right that way.”
She smiled, looking genuinely excited. “I love swans.”
A few minutes later, as I was wrestling a shirt over my injured arm, I heard a scream.
Shirt half on and half off, I ran from my room toward the main living area, worried that Rosie had somehow fallen over the deck rail and was in the water—or that Romeo, the male swan, had attacked her.
He could be pretty aggressive when he thought there was a threat to his mate.
When I got there, one of the doors to the deck was standing open. Rosie was inside, not wet, and not covered in red marks from a swan attack, thank God.
But something was very wrong.
Her entire body was stiff, her arms down straight at her sides and her hands clenched into fists. She was staring at the floor, hyperventilating.
I rushed over to her. “What happened? What’s going on?”
Still looking at the floor, she raised one of her arms and pointed outside.
“Don’t go out there,” she warned.
Alarmed, I shut the door and moved to peer out through the window blinds beside it.
“What did you see?”
Now she looked up at me, her eyes haunted, and her face tense.
“They found me.”
Chapter 7
