Chapter 7 Scarlett #2
I yanked my hand away, dropping it to my side, before the temptation became too much. Besides, the alarm was on. I could read the status on the panel by the front door from here.
Luke would go ballistic if I opened a door.
So I went to the couch, obeyed the rules and cuddled into the buttery leather, cocooned in Luke’s scent, which lingered on the throw pillows.
Hour passed.
Oh, look. Another soap.
Hours passed.
Lunchtime.
Hours passed.
Time for a walk.
I lapped the main floor three times, jogged up and down the stairs ten times, then wandered aimlessly through the rooms on the second floor, avoiding Luke’s because my crazy might win out and the last thing I needed was for him to come home early and find me napping in his bed.
After months, I had this house memorized.
There was a nick in one of the office’s built-in bookshelves.
I ran my hand over it as I swept through the room.
The other bathroom on this floor was mostly empty, but the corner of the shower curtain had turned up, probably from when I’d cleaned, so I straightened it as I passed.
Then I returned to the main floor, avoiding the creak on the fourth step beyond the landing.
What if the couch was switched with the chairs and the coffee table turned?
I tapped my chin, studying the layout. It had been over a month since I’d shuffled things around. And though I liked the layout . . .
I can do better.
So I got to work.
An hour later, sweat beaded at my temples as I surveyed the new arrangement.
Almost. It’s almost perfect. But what if—
“Aha!” I kept experimenting, moving the couch back to where I’d had it originally, but changing the position of the chair and love seat.
By the time I looked at the clock, most of the afternoon had disappeared. If I didn’t rush my shower, by the time I was ready to start dinner, Luke would be home. And that was exactly what I did.
I shaved my legs. I washed, conditioned and blow-dried my hair. Using the wand I’d ordered online, I curled my hair into loose waves. Moisturizer. Makeup. Mascara. The only person who’d see my new eyeshadow was Luke. That seemed reason enough.
When I stepped back from the mirror, my reflection startled me.
Whoa. I looked . . . pretty.
Gone were any traces of my months at the Warrior clubhouse. The fear. The anxiety. I’d let myself fall in Ashton because it had been easier than admitting the wreck that was my life. It had been easier than facing my mistakes.
So many mistakes.
At least I’d refused to act like one of the Warrior club whores. They were passed around between members more often than the drugs.
Part of the reason I hadn’t wanted to move out without Jeremiah was because I hadn’t trusted him to stay faithful. I’d believed that if I was there, watching, he wouldn’t stray. Maybe he had. Maybe he hadn’t. It didn’t really matter.
In the end, neither of us had a desire for the other. I’d been disgusted by him, by myself. And he’d been absorbed in the gambling.
Shoving those memories aside, I hurried to my room to get dressed, then to the kitchen to start dinner.
My black bean enchiladas were in the oven when the rumble of an engine resonated from outside.
I scurried to my spot upstairs beside the window, lifting the shade’s edge just in time to see the man who lived in the white house, two down on the opposite side of the street, park in his driveway.
This was one of my favorite parts of my day.
The man’s wife, pregnant, opened the front door to let a squealing toddler amble outside. The little boy raced on chubby legs toward his dad, who caught him under the arms and tossed him in the air.
“Dada!” The boy’s laughter rang out loud enough to melt my heart.
Would I ever have children? Did I want them? Yes.
And I’d protect them. Unlike my mother, if I had to protect them, I’d die trying.
How had our neighbors missed what was happening in our home? How had everyone missed it? Teachers. Pastors. Relatives. We’d been isolated from others but not cut off. Anyone with two eyes should have seen the animus behind my father’s gaze. It hadn’t been love but obsession.
Not a single person had noticed the abuse. Or if they had, they hadn’t stopped it.
Someday I’d be the nosy neighbor watching all the kids.
Until then, I’d do my best from this window.
The family across the street vanished inside their home and I returned to the kitchen, finishing dinner.
My days here had been boring, but the solitude had helped quiet my mind. It had helped me put Jeremiah’s death in the past.
I’d always mourn the boy who’d loved me. I’d regret what had happened to the man who had tried. But the anger had faded.
One day, I hoped the bad memories would too.
With the island set, I turned the oven off to keep the food warm while I waited.
It was five thirty.
Any minute now.
The minutes dragged to six o’clock. I drank a glass of ice water, then two.
Where is he?
At six thirty I had to pee.
By seven, I was pacing the length of the couch.
Has something happened?
Maybe there’d been an accident in town. An emergency.
The Warriors.
No. Luke hadn’t mentioned them. Not once in months. If they were in Clifton Forge, he would have told me. He wouldn’t have stopped asking me for information.
It’s not the Warriors.
Still, I walked to the front door, making sure the lock on the handle and the deadbolt were both secure. The alarm was engaged.
Needing to keep myself busy, I went to the kitchen and put away the unused plates. The enchiladas were covered and put into the fridge to reheat later. The countertops were cleaned.
Then I went to my chair in the living room, curling under the throw I’d ordered, and waited.
Please let him be okay.
Hours passed, slower than they ever had before. Darkness descended beyond the shades. And I stayed in my chair, anxious for a flash of headlights and the hum of the garage door opening.
By ten, my stomach was in a knot and sitting wasn’t an option. So I put on my pajamas and tied up my hair. Then I washed the makeup from my face.
I returned to my chair, turning on the television for some added noise. The glare from the lights made it difficult to watch, but it wasn’t like I could shut them off. And it wasn’t like I could concentrate on the movie anyway.
Finally, at exactly midnight, the garage door opened.
I surged from the chair, my heart racing, as I rushed to meet Luke in the laundry room.
“Hey,” I breathed. “Is everything okay? I was worried.”
“Yeah.” He shucked off his boots. “Just met up with some friends for a beer. Played a couple games of pool. Sorry I’m late.”
“Oh.”
It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.
After all, he didn’t owe me anything. He was probably tired of entertaining me every night.
Luke gave me a tight smile, not meeting my gaze as he brushed past me and strode through the kitchen. There was no comment, no raised eyebrow, at the new living room arrangement.
He just walked away, muttering, “Night,” at the base of the stairs.
Night? I’d waited up for him. I’d been worried. And all I got was night?
Aliens had come to Clifton Forge today and abducted the chief of police. That was the only explanation. Because the Luke I knew, the man who was polite and kind and respectful, wouldn’t blow me off like this. No, that was something Jeremiah would have done.
I slapped a palm to my forehead. This is Jeremiah all over again.
Why was I so pathetic? I’d been here, waiting for Luke to return. Waiting for a glimpse of his approval and a smile. Meanwhile, he’d been out living his life. Meeting up with friends. Drinking beer. Playing pool.
Replace friends with brothers, pool with poker, and things really hadn’t changed, had they?
Well, they were about to.
I marched through the house, turning off the lights as I stormed to my bedroom. What was I even doing here?
The water turned on upstairs, trickling through the pipes. Luke was showering.
Oh my God. My stomach dropped. What if he’d been with a woman?
I didn’t expect the man to be a monk but my foolish, stupid crush had blinded me to reality. Luke was a sexy, single man and he’d been here with me for months. I was a witness, nothing more. I was part of a case.
And after months without, he’d probably found a woman who wasn’t carrying enough baggage to sink a battleship. A woman not intimidated by sex and intimacy.
Jealousy raged through my veins. Humiliation came next.
I had no claim on Luke. He wasn’t mine.
Except I wanted him to be.
Screw this place.
I flew into action, rushing for the dresser. I swapped out my pajamas for jeans and a hoodie. I packed panties and bras into my backpack with one more change of clothes—Presley’s olive-green sweats.
I went to the bathroom, shoving my toiletries into the bag until it was so full, I could barely close the zipper. Then I tiptoed into the living room, my shoes in hand, checking that the lights above were off too.
Luke had deactivated the alarm system when he’d come in and the panel beside the front door glowed green. He’d forgotten to engage it before jumping into the shower to wash off the scent of sex.
Was that why he hadn’t lingered downstairs? Because he’d been afraid I’d notice the smell of another woman?
I tugged on my shoes beside the door, then gave the house one last glance.
I’d miss it here. I’d miss him.
Goodbye, Luke.
I reached for the deadbolt, twisting it slowly to muffle its click. I did the same with the lock on the handle. Then I held my breath, my heart jumping into my throat, as I turned the knob and—
“Scarlett.”
I gasped, spinning around. There wasn’t much light in the room, only the glow from the alarm panel, but it was enough to catch the glistening drops of water cascading down Luke’s chiseled chest. A white towel was wrapped around his narrow waist. He had it fisted in his grip, but the cotton dipped low enough to reveal the V of his hips.
Luke’s eyes narrowed at my hand still on the doorknob.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”