Page 123 of Dying to Meet You
I really don’t need him to walk me to the door, even if I might have welcomed the gesture a week ago, when I was still imagining a murderer in a ski mask hiding in the shrubberies.
Now I’m wondering whether the murderer owns a Jaguar.
The rain has turned to mist. I head up the walk, fishing out my key. Hank is right on my heels. “Cute house,” he says, stepping up onto the porch. “Did you renovate it yourself?”
“Of course.”
His grin is a little broader than necessary. “Hey—thanks for coming out with me tonight, Rowan. I appreciate it.”
“My pleasure,” I lie.
It’s time for his smile to dim, but it doesn’t. My wariness flares.
He says, “Tell me this—how come we never dated in high school?”
I try to laugh it off. “Because you were cool, and I wasn’t?”And please get off my porch.
I lift my keys, but he’s leaning against the doorframe, blocking my way.
“Rowan,” he says slowly, and my stomach drops. “You are cool. You’re one of the cool kids. Maybe we should see more of each other.”
I don’t answer right away because I’m trying to think of a nice way to say “That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard in my life.” And the hesitation costs me. He lifts a hand to cup my face. And then he plants a wet kiss on my mouth.
I freeze, even though my mind screamsRun!
The porch light flashes on. Blindingly.
Startled, Hank jerks back, lifting a hand to shield his eyes against the glare. “Jesus.”
Inside the house, Lickie lets out a warningwoof. And then, after a beat, another one.
I finally find my voice. “Hey! I have to call it a night. I need to get in there. Let the dog out. You know. And your driver is waiting.” I’m babbling, but it works.
“Shit, okay.” He’s still wincing against the light, but he turns toward his Jaguar like he’s forgotten it’s even there. “Another time. You have a good night.”
The moment he moves, I slip the key into the lock and disengage the deadbolt. I’m inside the house faster than you can sayworst night ever.
I close the door, lock it behind me, and lean against it. And there’s Harrison, feeding Lickie a piece of...
“Is thatcheese? She’s not supposed to get table food.”
“But she’s such a good girl,” he says maddeningly.
I use my forearm to wipe off my mouth. “Was that you? Did you just flip on the porch light?”
“Sure. Awful dark out.” He shrugs.
I squint at him while my heart does calisthenics in my chest. What did he see? “Is Natalie home?”
“Upstairs. Watching a movie with a friend. Some girl named Tessa who’s sixteen going on thirty-six.”
I’ve had the exact same thought about Tessa many times. But that isn’t what we need to talk about. “Look, I learned something tonight. You know that silver saint medallion? The one that was your mother’s?”
“Sure. Natalie has it now.” He strokes Lickie’s head absently. “She showed it to me. And she told me about the one they found in Kovak’s car.”
“Right. And that was a shock. But there was a woman at this event tonight whoalsohad one. When I asked her about it, she told me it was a gift to babies born at the mansion.”
He frowns. “That’s weird?. But I wasn’t born there. My birth certificate has the name of a hospital on it.”
