Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
“What do you think?” She dabs at her mouth with her napkin.
“I think you’re right.” I take another bite. “The cheese makes it.”
“Told you.”
The fries are hot and crispy, and Carrie keeps our root beers filled to the top. The entire meal is better than I ever expected, but the best part of it has been Liza. She doesn’t hide herself. When she said she was an open book, she wasn’t kidding. Her emotions always come through, and I’m enjoying how real she is with me. It makes me wonder if I can be real with her, too. Not that I should. This is about the job. Easy money.
The diner door opens, and the sheriff strides in, his hat cocked to one side. When he sees Liza, he makes a beeline for us.
I tense. I’m not a fan of the law to begin with, and I absolutely despise the way this guy is looking at Liza. If I were back home, I’d get up and knock his fucking teeth out. As it is, I stay seated.
“Liza, fancy meeting you here.” He gives her a hat tip, then looks at me. “With our newest resident, too.”
“Sheriff.”
“Oh, everyone calls me Clark.” He smiles, but it isn’t meant for me. It’s for Liza.
I reach behind me and pull out my wallet, then toss down a couple of twenties. “We were just on our way out.”
“That’s too bad. I was hoping I could have a word with you.” He smiles at Liza.
“I’ll drive you home. The roads are supposed to get icy tonight.” I stand and hold out my hand.
She takes it and gets to her feet. “Okay. Sounds good.”
“I can take you home, Liza.” Clark rests one hand on his belt.
“Oh, no, that’s okay, Clark. I’ll go with Crane. He’s right next door.”
“All right.” The sheriff’s tone tells me that it is, in fact, not all right, but I don’t give a shit.
“Good to see you again, Mr. Douglas,” he calls as I walk Liza out of the diner.
I give him the two-finger wave as we walk out into the cold evening.
“Thanks.” She digs around in her bag. “I’ll see you later.”
“What?” I pull her gently toward my car.
“You don’t have to keep pretending. I can drive home. Clark can be sort of insistent sometimes, so I appreciate you helping me out.” She pulls her keys from her bag.
“You think I’m pretending?” I pull her to me, pressing her close as I look down in her eyes. “Nothing about this is fake, Liza.” I glance at her lips and lean closer.
Her breath hitches.
Then my mantra chirps through my mind. Easy money.
I step back from her and open the passenger door. “Get in, Liza. Let’s go home.”
8
LIZA
Why didn’t he kiss me? It’s the only thing I can think about on the short drive to our homes. The inside of the vehicle is too quiet. I peek over at him as he pulls down our street. I was so sure he was going to. His mouth had been so close to mine. Had I read it all wrong? He seems stiffer now. One second he was there with me, and the next he wasn’t.
He pulls into his driveway. “Thanks for the ride.” I unclick my seatbelt to bolt out of the car. I’m barely out the door and he’s there standing beside it, closing it for me.
“I was going to get that for you.” He gives me one of his half-smiles.
“That’s very gentlemanly of you.” The glowing Christmas lights on my house reflect off his eyes, making them sparkle. Again, his gaze drops to my mouth.
“I’ll walk you to your door.”
“You don’t have to do that.” He puts his hand on the small of my back and starts to guide me toward my house. Why is this suddenly so awkward? Is it me? Am I making this weird? I reach into my purse to find my keys.
“Thanks again.” I fumble with them and end up dropping them. He picks them up before I can. He slides the key into my door, unlocking it for me before he hands them back over. His fingers graze mine.
“I’ll take you to your car tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can—”
“I’ll take you to your car tomorrow.” Normally a man being so pushy would annoy me, but for some reason, with Crane, it’s having the opposite effect.
“Okay.” I lick my lips, drawing his attention there once again. We linger for a long moment before a very loud meow sounds from inside the house.
Crane turns his head toward the sound. “Krampus?”
“You remembered his name.” I have to say I’m pretty impressed. I bet neither Mick nor Clark would remember Krampus’s name, and they often drift into the library and see him.
“I pay attention to everything you say,” he responds easily.