Page 3 of No Rings Attached
Her movements sped up, frantic in nature. Her back was half towards me and with each tug her curvy hips wiggled. Instinct demanded I offer my help, but I quickly squashed that idea.
I wasn’t stupid.
A guttural groan left her mouth as she yanked harder.
Then yanked again.
So hard she stumbled.
Oh shit.
A low thud sounded as she landed face first into the grass below.
I cringed as laughter bubbled up inside me. I knew it was wrong. What was happening wasnotfunny. At least not for her. I choked back the chuckle as I let the reeds snap into place. “I didn’t see anything,” I lied.
Her answering harrumph told me she didn’t believe me. “Itoldyou to stay away.”
I retreated a few feet, reluctant to go any further in case she needed assistance. “Do you, uh, need …”
“No. I don’t.” Her grumpy reply widened my smile.
After another frustrated sigh, the sound of fabric rustling, and her muttering under her breath again, I cleared my throat. “About your car ...”
Her face peeked out from the overgrown mess for a second before hiding again. “Seriously, dude. Take a few steps in the opposite direction. What are you? A creep?”
I held out my palms in the familiar stop motion to show I wasn’t a threat. Although, as my sister Grace often reminded my brothers and me, at over six feet, our size was enough to scare a lone woman, despite our best intentions. “Listen, I’m going to step back. But I can’t just?—”
“If you don’t move away another ten feet right now, I’ll use my weapon,” she threatened. Her voice wavered slightly, but the threat was clear.
Shit. I wasn’t sure what to do. Call Grace? I reached for my phone.
“Keep your hands where I can see them.”
I tried another tactic. “Why don’t you come out and you can show me what’s wrong with your car?” I offered, gentling my voice, hoping I sounded somewhat friendly. I wasn’t my cousin, but I could at least see if anything looked out of place.
“No.” Her voice floated out around the overgrown mess. I made a mental note to remind our newly-elected mayor, Everly Grant, that someone needed to take care of this.
“Great—wait. What?” I was used to people doing as I asked, Glamma and my family excluded.
“Why should I trust you? What if you’re a serial killer?” Her sharp words indicated she wasn’t kidding.
“I can promise you I’m not.” I tried to keep my tone even and non-threatening even though I wanted to laugh at the idea of me being a serial killer.
“Isn’t that what a serial killer would say?” she scoffed.
“I hardly have the time for a life of crime and I’d be terrible at hiding the bodies,” I laughed.
“I watch a lot of true crime. I’m practically a detective at this point.” Her insistent tone told me she was serious. “Besides, a serial unaliver would sayanythingto gain my trust.” She shook her head. She probably thought I was stupid.
I took a step closer. If I moved slowly, maybe I could get her to trust me. Although, if she knew me, she’d know I was the last person to be accused of being a murderer.
As the oldest sibling, I was the responsible one. The one everyone came to with their problems. The one that had taken on the mantle of our family business. It was my duty to my family and one I luckily enjoyed.
“Stayback!”she shouted. I flinched at the ear-shattering vocal range she continued to exhibit. “I told you. I’m armed.” Her head poked out around a tree this time, likely to assess how close I was. She aggressively shook her arm to show off her weapon, warning me.
I held out my palms again. “Just trying to help.”
“I don’t believe you. What good samaritan accuses a person of trying to kill someone with their car? Maybe you were projecting.”
