Page 2 of Her Favorite Fumble
Even as some inner voice tried to reassure her it would be a ridiculous wardrobe choice for a home invasion, panic was coursing through her body. “What did you do with my grandmother?”
“She’s traveling.”
“Oh, she’s justtraveling? An elderly woman alone has gone running amok, just like that?”
“Elderly?” He barked out a laugh before shaking his head. “She’s only sixty-nine, and she finished in the top ten of the food bank’s 5k run last fall. Something you would probably know if you were really her granddaughter because it was the only thing she talked about for a solid two months.”
“Of course I knew about the 5k run. We joked about how I can spend twelve hours walking in heels, but would only run if somebody was chasing me—and, honestly, maybe not even then. I’d probably give up. And Gran can run a 5k, but can’t walk ten feet in high heels.”
He stood there, arms folded across his chest. His eyes, which looked almost as dark as his hair, were narrowed, and he didn’t seem to have anything else to add.
Lucy knew Gran had talked about the run on Facebook, though, which was as good as making it public knowledge. Did he really have proof of what he was saying? “Did you murder her and hide her body so you could squat in her home and tell anybody who asks that she’s traveling?”
His eyebrow arched, and he scrubbed one hand over his scruffy jaw. “You might want to lay off the true crime podcasts.”
Lucy opened her mouth to argue, but shehadjust driven three thousand miles with true crime podcasts playing as the background noise. She hadn’t intended to tune them out, but even murder and mayhem couldn’t distract her from thinking about the tattered mess her life had become practically overnight.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m somehow over-caffeinated and utterly exhausted at the same time. I’m Lucy Macauley. Helen’s granddaughter.”
The man nodded. “I’m Nick Slater. Helen didn’t want the cottage sitting empty while she was away and I needed a place to stay, so I’m staying here in exchange for doing some work around the property.”
That made sense, and Lucy’s pulse slowly settled into an only slightly higher than normal rhythm. “For how long?”
“She’s visiting some friends in Florida, and then they’re going on a cruise, and then she’s staying with some other friends in one of the Carolinas on her way back through. She said it would be a couple of months, at least. And she just left four days ago.”
“Twomonths?” Her heart rate kicked back into high gear. “I drove all the way from the West Coast, and I was planning to stay here with Gran.”
“I’m staying here.”
“I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Neither do I.”
Her head tilted. “Are you from here?”
“Born and raised,” he said.
“Then why don’t you have anywhere else to go?”
When his annoyed expression deepened into an actual scowl, she realized that was a rude question. But she was exhausted and wanted him to go away so she could face-plant on that couch.
“Somebody else needed to use my place for a while, so this arrangement worked out for everybody.”
“Except me.”
“Except you,” he admitted gruffly.
Lucy wasn’t sure what the best move was, but she knew two things. When she’d said she was Helen’s granddaughter, he hadn’t mentioned the incident in Las Vegas, so maybe he didn’t know the entire world hated her right now. And also, it was very late and she didn’t have the physical or emotional strength to get back in her car and find someplace else to go.
“Maybe I can just stay here,” she said. “Ireallyneed some sleep.”
“There’s only one bed.”
“Of course there is. I read that book, mister.”
The scowl deepened even further. “That isdefinitelynot where I was going with that. What I meant was that the second bedroom’s emptied out so I can work in there, but you can crash on the couch.”
“That’s very chivalrous of you,” she said, relief fanning the dying embers of her sense of humor.
