Page 21 of A Murderous Crow
“I’m going home,” she said finally, and when she opened her eyes, the bottom lashes were thick with gathering tears.
“By all means,” I said. “Keys are right there.” I gestured to her keys in front of her. “Laptop is in the living room.”
I watched her slowly get up and gather her things and said, “I’ll walk you out.”
“I can manage just fine,” she tried. I smiled and chuffed a laugh, shaking my head as I held open the door off the kitchen into the courtyard.
“You need me to open the carriage house garage door for you.”
“Oh.” She cringed as she slid by me and carefully stepped out onto the patio brick in her bare feet, her toes perfectly manicured to match her fingernails.
She clutched everything to her chest, awkwardly, as though it would somehow shield her from my presence.
I opened her car door for her, and she looked at me, blinking in surprise, the door suspended between us as she still clutched her belongings as if they would somehow save her from me.
It was far too late for that, but if it made her feel better…
“Remember, I call and you answer.”
High spots of color appeared on her cheeks, and she didn’t say anything, just got into her car and tossed everything onto the passenger seat, most of it spilling onto the floor.
I made sure she was in before I shut the door and stepped back, hitting the switch to open the garage. She stared at me, starting her car and waiting so that she could pull out.
She was careful, and I was glad for that. It was a nice Jag. Looked like it didn’t have many miles on it. She pulled out onto the street and, once clear, left in a hurry.
I hit the switch and walked back across the patio and into my kitchen, taking up my phone off the counter and checking the tracking software I had installed on her new phone.
I watched her dot move along the lines of the streets she took, satisfied it was working, and wondered just how all of this would play out.
Chapter Eleven
Savannah…
I went back to my little mother-in-law hovel and immediately went in to shower. I stood under a punishing hot spray and couldn’t help but let my mind wander to the feel of Corbett’s hands in my hair.
It’d been a long while, and even if my brain was like, “ew, God no,” it seemed that my heart and my body had other ideas about it.
Ilongedto be touched like that forreal,which was honestly wishful thinking with how men were these days. I’d given up entirely on dating in college after some harrowing dates.
Men were just…ugh,anymore.
While I genuinely found Corbett Prescottirritatingbefore all this, now I found myself… I didn’t know – three-quarters terrified, and at least one-quarter intrigued.
Still, the terror was totally winning right this minute, and I honestly couldn’t get into the shower fast enough, like it would do something to wash the horrors of the night before down the drain.
I stood under it, washing thoroughly with my comfort-scented potions and lotions that held the sun-drenched smell of peaches. The fruity scent hung in the steam that filled my bathroom. When I got out, I felt marginally more relaxed than when I’d entered. I wound my hair into a towel, dried myself as thoroughly as possible with the other towel, hung it to dry, and shrugged into my soft, fluffy robe.
It was one of those cheap, microfiber bathrobes that was soft and almost furry against the skin. It was one of my most favorite things to cozy up in, especially in the winter months.
I didn’t bother with slippers, I just went out into my bedroom with a sigh and tried to soak up my solitude – basking in it, like a lizard under a heat lamp.
I loved being alone. Especially after spending all day, every day putting on airs for these unbelievably snobby and wealthy people – fooling them into believing I was one of them when nothing could be further from the truth.
My family had always been firmly in the middle class – maybeuppermiddle class at some points, but just barely.
These people I worked with and for were a whole different league ofrich– and even though they believed I was one of them, I didn’t feel it. At all. Ever.
Yes, I was pulling in the kind of money to put me on their level – but I was living way below my means, as modestly as possible, for a reason.
