Chapter 7
To Do:
- Find a way to legally murder Rachel
- Call Sawyer for self defense class—throat punching?
“Mom, you could have killed us,”Claire sputtered as she frantically stabbed the button to roll down the heavily tinted window of Luke’s new black sedan. Thick white smoke billowed out into the warm morning air. The imposing structure of the West Haven Courthouse was barely visible through the smoke. It looked more like a museum than a courthouse, with wide, sweeping stairs and dramatic brick arches. “You can’t just fill a moving car with smoke.”
All she wanted to do was get through the hearing without any shenanigans. And here she was, rolling up to the courthouse like she had just left a Grateful Dead concert.
Beside her, Luke put his window down too, wafting the smoke out into the balmy summer morning. He looked amused despite the fact that he clearly hadn’t slept. She wasn’t speaking to him after the George incident—they had tabled their discussion regarding his surprise secret brother until after the hearing.
“Claire Aurora Hartley, I can’t believe you got in a brand new car without saging it first,” Alice Alejo said sternly. Claire’s mother had arrived that morning, fresh off a plane from Florida, the way a hurricane does—infrequently but with dramatic flair and potentially catastrophic fallout.
“Did you not get the kit that I sent you? The energy is so stale in here it’s like an abandoned law library,” Alice continued. She unbuckled her seatbelt and thrust her smoldering bundle of sage into the front seat, leaning as far as possible toward the windshield.
Claire was engulfed in the earthy smell of angelica root, which her mother swore by for protection. She and Luke made eye contact over her mother’s mass of perfectly coiffed blonde hair. He shrugged.
Claire bit her lip. Luke had sprung for a new car with tinted windows before Claire had even made it home from the hospital. He still had his dad’s old, beat-up truck, but any time they went somewhere together, they took the new car. But all the tinted windows in the world wouldn’t save her from the microscope she was about to be under.
Alice swung her arm counterclockwise in a half circle. She likely would have fallen into Luke’s lap if her gargantuan breasts hadn’t been lodged between the driver and passenger seat. Apparently satisfied, she returned to the back seat. Flinging her curly blonde tresses over one shoulder of her hot pink pantsuit, she dug one well-manicured hand through her designer purse. “It’s no wonder you keep getting followed by the paparazzi.”
“Mom, I’m being followed by the paparazzi because I was almost murdered, not because I didn’t smudge Luke’s car. What are you doing? Put the spray bottle down.”
“We have to follow the smudging with rose water for protection and warmth.”
“It’s eighty degrees, Mom. We don’t need more warmth.” Claire clutched the door handle. She wasn’t ready to face the horde of reporters who were frantically approaching the car, but the smoke was giving her a headache. Luke reached over and stopped her. He got out first, leaving Claire to stew in the suffocating smell of rose water and sage.
He opened Alice’s door first and helped her out. Alice extinguished the smoldering bundle with a bottle of water and hid it a sandwich bag in her purse. With any luck, it would be confiscated by courthouse security.
Detective Smith trotted down the stairs in front of the courthouse, having apparently spotted Claire and the small circus she had brought along. His shrewd blue eyes swept over the crowd before zeroing in on her. He wasn’t tall or particularly big-boned, but he had a quietly commanding presence, and the people clustered around the courthouse stepped aside as he approached.
“Wait,” Alice said to Luke as he reached for Claire’s door. She reached into her purse once more and withdrew a small quartz stone. She tossed it into the back seat of the car before opening Claire’s door.
Claire shook her head as she stepped out into the harsh sunlight. As soon as she exited, dozens of reporters converged on the car. Shouted questions didn’t even register. Luke and Alice flanked her and shoved a path through the crowd. Alice had almost certainly just delivered a sound elbow to the abdomen of a reporter who tried to thrust his microphone in Claire’s face. Luke’s jaw was clenched, and there was a tic in his right eye.
Detective Smith met them halfway, calling a couple of cops over to help control the crowd. Other than his unusually large ears, he was an unassuming man, which was probably ideal for a detective. He shook her hand briefly before turning back to the throng. He turned his head to speak to her over the shoulder of his neatly pressed charcoal suit.
“Miss Hartley. I know this will be a challenging day for you,” Detective Smith said as he strong-armed a particularly aggressive reporter.
Claire followed behind him, ducking her head as they made their way to the steps. “You could say that.”
The detective’s badge glinted in the sunlight as he led the way. A low-hanging boom microphone mussed his neatly parted salt-and-pepper hair.
Tension radiated from Luke. He stepped half in front of her as they walked, shielding her as much as possible from the desperate horde screaming questions at her.
“Miss Hartley, how do you feel about being in the same building as the West Haven Widowmaker?” one woman shouted.
“Widowermaker,” Claire muttered under her breath. Was that the same toothy reporter who had accosted her outside her warehouse a few days earlier?
“What do you say to the families of the other victims?” a woman with startling blue eyes yelled at her.
“Has your business suffered after planning a proposal for a serial killer?” another called.
“Back off,” Luke commanded, jabbing a finger into the breastbone of a short man with a sprinkling of freckles across his milky-white skin.
Finally, after a blur of desperate faces, microphones, and shouted questions, the courthouse doors swung shut behind them. The silence was deafening. After a minor incident at the metal detectors where security confiscated what appeared to be a voodoo doll from Alice’s purse, they approached the courtroom.
Claire’s heart pounded erratically. Just on the other side of those imposing double doors was the man who had fooled her, abducted her, and tried to kill her. The stab wound on her chest burned. Her hands balled into fists at her side. Some days, the anger burned so bright and hot that she wanted to drive to the prison and punch Barney right in the testicles. But the testicle punch would have to wait for another day. She probably wouldn’t even see him.
“Miss Hartley.” Detective Smith stepped in front of the courtroom doors, blocking her path. “This is Ada Washington, a crime victim advocate.”
Ada stepped forward and shook Claire’s hand with both of hers. Barely noticeable wrinkles hugged the corner of her mouth. Her natural hair had been straightened, and her shoulder-length bob shone under the overhead lights. Caramel-colored eyes stared out of cat eye glasses.
“I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances,” Ada said tactfully, releasing her grip on Claire’s hand. “I’ve seen your work. Your proposals are wonderful.”
“Thank you,” Claire said.
“Your family is welcome to proceed into the courtroom,” Ada said with a nod toward Luke and Alice. Luke looked worried, and Alice was rooting through her purse again. “However, because you are a witness, you’ll have to remain outside. Standard procedure,” she said. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to a lounge you can wait in for the duration of the hearing.”
Alice thrust her purse into Luke’s arms and hugged Claire so ferociously that something in her body cracked. Was that a rib?
“Mom, I’ll be fine.”
Alice pulled back and gripped her arms. The worry line between her eyes stuck out more than it used to. She looked back at Luke.
“I know you will, sweetie. I love you.” There was one last suffocating hug, and then she whirled away in a cloud of patchouli and lemon grass.
Luke hugged her more gently, and he pressed his lips to Claire’s ear.
“You can do this.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and then he, too, was gone.
Claire followed Ada a few yards down the hallway. A small, open lounge with a view of the courtyard was littered with outdated wooden benches and tables. Ada provided Claire with a bottle of water and then left.
The rigid wooden chair was as uncomfortable as it looked. A clock on the wall ticked incessantly. Wood polish and cheap, lemon-scented cleaning products perfumed the air. It was going to be a long day.
“There she is!”
Claire glanced up at the loud whisper. Nicole and Mindy, both dressed in power suits, strode down the hallway looking over their shoulders every couple of steps, as though they were expecting to be yelled at.
“You guys,” Claire said, standing as they engulfed her in hugs. “What are you doing here? I told you that you didn’t have to come.”
“Please, like we were going to miss this. You’re not allowed inside?” Nicole asked Claire, laying a hand on her shoulder.
“No. They don’t want the witnesses hearing the testimonies or something,” Claire said.
“Then you’re going to need this,” Mindy said, reaching into her bag and drawing out a gossip magazine and a large thermos.
“Coffee?” Claire asked appreciatively, hefting the thermos.
“Sure,” Mindy said, swooping in for one last hug. “We’ll tell you everything. I’m going to take such detailed notes that the court stenographer will be forced to retire in shame.”
“Love you.” Nicole engulfed Claire in her coconut-scented shampoo briefly before the pair made their way to the courtroom.
Claire surveyed the lounge again. If she leaned to the right, the entrance to the courtroom was just barely visible. She took a notebook with proposal notes out of her purse and stared at it for a moment, willing it to distract her. A diagram of a marching band spread out before her, but she idly tapped her pen against the drum major, unable to focus. People were still filing in to the courtroom, so the proceedings probably hadn’t started yet. How long would this take?
Stilettos snapped across the linoleum. They sounded expensive. Claire glanced up. Rachel. What the hell? Claire stiffened and slid her chair to the left. A loud screech split the air. Hopefully, Rachel hadn’t seen her.
What was the ice queen doing here? Shouldn’t she be sharpening a pitchfork or sacrificing a virgin in a volcano somewhere? Maybe Luke had asked her to come to provide insight.
After a quick glance around the corner to make sure Rachel was indeed gone, Claire took a sip from the thermos, expecting a steaming shot of caffeine. She choked and sprayed a fine mist over her notebook and the table. A hand clapped her on the back, and she nearly knocked the thermos over.
“You okay?” a familiar voice asked.
“Sawyer,” she choked out. The table and chairs looked like dollhouse furniture as he sat down across from her, dressed in a navy suit and surfboard-sized black dress shoes. He looked like a bodyguard, or maybe a professional wrestler.
“Sorry, my friends brought me this. I was expecting coffee and instead got a very strong hit of vodka,” she whispered, sliding the mug across the table to Sawyer.
He sniffed it and shuddered, then slid it back to her. His nose was broad and flat, as though he slept with his face smashed into a pillow and it had gotten stuck that way.
Claire shrugged and took a big sip before moving it off to the side. “I didn’t realize you’d be here. Makes sense, though.”
He nodded. “I did tase the bastard. How have you been?”
“Fine. No one’s broken into my apartment since the system was installed, so thank you for that.”
Sawyer smiled. His lips were large and velvety-looking, and his teeth were perfectly white against his tanned skin. His shoulders rippled as he took his phone out of his pocket.
“Have you given any more thought to self-defense classes?”
She smacked the table with one hand. “I have, actually. I’m sick of feeling powerless. I needed three people just to get me through the crowd and into the building today. I was going to call you next week to schedule a lesson.”
“Sounds great. It’ll be good for you. Help you feel a little more in control.”
“I do love to be in control,” she said, smiling wryly. She abandoned her notebook in her bag and picked up the gossip magazine. For once, her mind refused to focus on work.
“Care package from Mindy and Nicole.” She gestured to the magazine. “I don’t usually read these things.”
“Mindless garbage can be a great distraction. I watched two full seasons of Stepwives of Secaucus a couple years ago,” Sawyer said, gesturing to the picture of a brunette woman who was apparently sporting a new nose job on the cover of the magazine.
“My sister and I watch that show all the time. I didn’t have you pegged as a reality TV guy.” Claire raised an eyebrow. A loud yawn caught her off guard, and she wiped a hand at the corner of her eye, trying not to smudge her makeup. She had barely slept the night before and had woken in the middle of four different nightmares about Barney. But at least she hadn’t sleepwalked. That was a problem for another day.
“I’m not. It was a weird time. You look exhausted.”
She frowned. Apparently, her special green-tinted undereye primer hadn’t gotten rid of the bags.
“I don’t mean you look bad,” he corrected quickly. “You look great. You were just yawning and I figured with today coming up you probably didn’t sleep. I’m going to stop talking now.” He folded his hands and placed them on the table.
Claire laughed. He was so nice. An open book, really. It was a far cry from interacting with the perpetually grumpy and mysterious Luke. “It’s fine. I am tired.”
Tired of a lot of things.
“If you want to close your eyes and rest a little bit, I’ll keep an eye out,” he said.
A protest was on the tip of her tongue, but she yawned again, so violently that she shuddered. The swig of vodka was dragging her eyelids down. The sun filtering through the window distinctly reminded her of sitting in the Burger King sunroom as a child.
“I might do that. Thank you, Sawyer,” she said, promptly laying her head down on her magazine. Just a brief power nap.
“Unhand me!”
The shout startled Claire awake. She sat upright as though she had been electrocuted. Her cheek was damp, and the magazine clung to her face, swinging like a pendulum for a moment before dropping back onto the table. She wiped at the dampness on her cheek and glanced across the table, relieved to see that Sawyer had disappeared. Drooling on a gossip magazine outside a courtroom probably didn’t do much for her public image.
She stood, walked into the hallway, and took a step toward the courtroom.
The heavy wooden double doors burst open. A bailiff the size of a redwood stepped into the hallway, carrying a hot pink bundle over his shoulder.
“Put me down, you oaf! I’m not finished with her.” The hot pink bundle was Claire’s mom, screaming obscenities and flailing. One of her bubblegum-pink high heels flew off and knocked a personal item bin off the security table.
Sawyer, who had been approaching the doors looking ready for a fight, caught the bin before it hit the ground.
“Ma’am, you are not permitted to verbally assault the litigators.” The bailiff deposited her on a chair in the atrium.
Alice tried to rise, but he held his nightstick in her direction.
“Mom? What the hell is going on?” Claire asked. So much for making it through the trial with no unnecessary shenanigans.
More shouts came from inside the courtroom. A gavel banged in the background.
“I can’t believe you would take this case,” Luke said as the door flew open again. Even from this distance, his eyes were stormy and dangerous. “How in the hell is this not a conflict of interest? You’re defending the man who tried to kill my girlfriend.”
Oh, he said the g-word. Did that make them official? But he had lied about George. And didn’t tell Rachel she existed. Wait, who was he talking to?
Rachel strode out just behind him. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were even sharper and more unforgiving than they had been the night before.
“Lucas, I would hardly consider this minor dalliance your ‘girlfriend.’ She doesn’t even know the difference between a salad bowl and a soup bowl.”
Claire’s mouth dropped open. Who the hell cared what kind of bowl was being used if someone served you a free meal in it? That was it, she was going to kill her. Luke started to speak, but he was cut off.
“You dried-up old hag!” Alice leapt up from the chair and charged toward Rachel.
The bailiff, moving surprisingly quickly for a man of his size, scooped his arms underneath Alice’s and held her back. Deprived of arm movements, Alice instead began jumping, kicking her legs out in Rachel’s general direction.
Sawyer moved toward Alice but turned to look back at Claire. She shook her head, and he stopped.
“How dare you speak of my daughter that way?” Alice spat at Rachel. “She is a beautiful, smart, independent businesswoman who has suffered unspeakable horrors at the hand of your client.” She emphasized the last word as if it was profane.
Claire gasped. That fossilized twat was representing Barney. No wonder she had been grilling her the night before. Was she even allowed to do that?
“Mrs. Alejo, I’m just doing my job. And my job entails uncovering the truth, and the truth is that your daughter isn’t as innocent as she likes to pretend. She assaulted someone in front of a hundred people shortly before she was ‘abducted,’” Rachel said with air quotes.
A hand flew to Claire’s chest. She was frozen in place like an ice sculpture. Every time she thought Rachel couldn’t possibly be more heinous, she proved her wrong. The Islestorms were quicksand, sucking people in and suffocating them with lies and subterfuge.
Alice wriggled even harder, like a bull caught in a pen. The bailiff cleared his throat loudly, and the cop who had been sitting behind the metal detector with earbuds in suddenly jumped up.
“What seems to be the problem here?” he asked, sounding awfully official for someone who had been blatantly ignoring his job.
“Little help here, Steve?” The bailiff looked pointedly at the middle-aged psychic who was doing her best to escape his grasp.
“What kind of a mother could defend a man like Barney Windsor? You’re the real monster here. Your heart is as black as your aura” Alice hissed as she was transferred back to the chair. Fighting words from the television psychic. The cop pulled her arms behind her and snapped on a pair of handcuffs, threading them through the slats of the chair. Alice shot daggers at Rachel, who ignored her.
Sawyer was trying to catch Claire’s eye, and when he succeeded, he scrubbed his hand against his cheek. She shrugged at him, confused. Did she still have drool on her face? Her cheek didn’t feel wet.
“You seriously went through our recycling?” Luke said to his mother, hands balled into fists at his side.
“I have an obligation to my client—” she began but stopped when the courtroom doors opened again.
Mindy and Nicole slid out, looking alarmed. They spotted Claire and hurried down the hallway, flanking her and snaking their arms through hers.
“You used your relationship with me to get information on Claire. I’m going to tell the judge about the conflict of interest,” Luke said, whirling around and heading for the courtroom.
“Maybe you should let me handle that,” Kyle, who had just exited, said. He was grinning despite the chaos.
“Lucas, the jury has a right to know about Claire’s violent history,” Rachel continued, softer this time. “And you never told me you were dating her until last night.”
Luke turned to her, rage flaming in his eyes. “Shut the hell up. And get your things out of my guest room. You’re not welcome in my home anymore.”
Claire gasped. Rachel’s face fell. The doors slammed open again, and the judge appeared in her billowing black robes.
“Counselors,” the judge said. “This is a courtroom, not a circus tent. As riveting as this family drama is, it won’t be tolerated. And you,” the judge said, turning to Alice. “You are dangerously close to being held in contempt.”
Alice took a deep breath and trained her baby blue eyes on the judge. “Your honor, do you have any idea what it’s like to get a call in the middle of the night telling you that your daughter has been stabbed? And you’re six states away and she’s bleeding out under a retrograde Mercury? Claire almost died at the hands of that man, and this woman’s trying to make it seem like she’s some underdeveloped, gin-guzzling middle schooler with a violent streak. That’s not my daughter.”
The judge dropped into the chair next to Alice. She leaned in and whispered something too low for Claire to hear. The judge patted Alice on the hand before standing back up.
“I have a courtroom to run. I expect everyone except Alice—and the witnesses,” she said with a stern glance at Claire and Sawyer, “to be back inside and ready to proceed with the hearing in five minutes.” She spoke with no room for argument and disappeared through a side door.
“I’m going to have to ask you folks to return to the lounge area,” the cop said to Claire and Sawyer.
“I’m just going to make a quick pit stop,” Sawyer said as he headed to the restroom.
Mindy released Claire and gave her another hug. When she pulled back, her mouth formed an O of surprise.
“Claire, your face?—”
“What about it?”
“Mindy, we have to go in,” Nicole hissed, waving at her friend.
“Scrub it,” Mindy whispered, mimicking Sawyer’s hand motion from earlier.
“Why the hell is everyone telling me to scrub my face?” Claire muttered to herself, shaking her head. She cast one more glance at Alice, who was still handcuffed to the chair and staring daggers at the courtroom doors.
Her footsteps echoed in the hallway as she made her way back to her table. She was certain she had applied her foundation earlier. Maybe her bronzer was uneven? She dug through her purse until she found the small, striped compact Nicole had given her for her last birthday. She flipped it open and gasped in horror.
The word “vagina” was stamped in yellow across her cheek. She glanced at the magazine on the table. The glossy paper was warped over an article titled “Is my vagina normal?”
“Oh my god.” She desperately scrubbed at her cheek. It wasn’t going away.
“Here,” Sawyer said as he reappeared. He handed her a damp paper towel.
“Thank you,” she said, slapping it onto her skin and rubbing. She pulled the paper towel away to check her progress. So much for painstakingly blended foundation. She was going to look like a red-faced teenager when the press swarmed her after the hearing. No wait, it was worse than that. “It’s still there,” she groaned. Was she going to have to walk around for the rest of her life with a stab wound and the word “vagina” staining her cheek?
“Let me,” Sawyer said, taking the chair next to hers.
Claire wondered briefly if he would accidentally crush her head but handed him the paper towel.
He gently gripped her chin and tilted her face toward him. He smelled like summer, bright citrus mixed with sunshine. His rough hands were gentle as he rubbed at her cheek. It was oddly erotic. She leaned the rest of her body away from him. How awkward. She barely knew him, and she had a boyfriend (didn’t she?). Even if he was a grumpy, pathological liar.
“Much better.” He balled up the paper towel and tossed it ten feet away into a trashcan.
“I’m no longer a walking billboard for reproductive organs?”
“Not for that one, anyway,” he said apparently without thinking, because a millisecond later, his face was as red as the traffic light outside. “I mean, there’s only so much you can do about—uh, you know what? Never mind.” He cleared his throat and stood, walked over to the window. He clasped his hands behind his back, as though the tiny courtyard he was surveying was his kingdom.
Claire suppressed a snort laugh and went back to her slightly warped magazine. Her eyes were fixed on an article about celebrity beach bodies, but her mind was racing. Her anxiety, which had already been at heart-palpitation level the entire morning, inched up another notch. Kyle had said the preliminary trial would be a slam dunk, and that there was more than enough evidence for Barney’s case to go to trial. But what if the universe was gearing up to smite her? Why the hell was Rachel representing Barney? What did Rachel say that set Luke off so much? Something about the recycling? And how long would it be until Alice made a voodoo doll of Rachel?
After a small eternity, the courtroom doors opened again. She and Sawyer both stood, uncertain if they were allowed to approach. Nicole and Mindy shoved their way to the front and half jogged to Claire.
“It’s going to trial,” Nicole blurted out, wrapping Claire in another rib-cracking hug.
Claire audibly exhaled, a breath that felt like she had held it the entire morning.
The girls began talking over top of each other. “Rachel tried to make you seem like an alcoholic,” Mindy began.
“What?” Claire interrupted. An alcoholic? Sure, she had indulged in more wine this week than she normally did. But if getting abducted and being grilled by Rachel didn’t excuse a couple extra glasses of wine, what did?
“Totally victim-blaming, very tone deaf in this political climate and—” Nicole interrupted. She talked with her hands when she was upset. Her princess-cut diamond nearly slashed Claire’s cheek.
“Also, I need you to find out where Luke’s mom lives,” Mindy interjected. “On an unrelated note, I need to go to the grocery store and buy six dozen eggs, a blow-up sex doll, aerosol hairspray, and a crème br?lée torch,” Mindy said.
“That bad, huh?” A ball of lead had formed in Claire’s stomach. She picked up the thermos that was on the table and took a big sip. If she was already an alleged alcoholic, she might as well embrace it.
Nicole squeezed her hand. “You weren’t exaggerating when you said she was a hybrid of a shark and a velociraptor with a clump of broken hypodermic needles for a heart. But Kyle can and will beat her. The evidence is insurmountable, no matter how much she tries to drag your name through the mud. It’s honestly stupid of them to let it go to trial.”
“Let’s hope. I better go see if they’ve un-handcuffed my mother.” Claire linked arms with Nicole and Mindy and started to walk down the corridor.
“Hang on.” Claire stopped suddenly and was almost knocked down by the other two. She unwound her arms and turned to look behind her. “Sawyer?”
Sawyer, who had slung his jacket over one shoulder and seemed to be engrossed in his phone, looked up.
“Thank you. Again. For everything, especially from saving me from gracing the cover of the West Haven Times with the word ‘vagina’ on my face,” she said, covering the short distance between them in a few steps. She stood on her tippy toes and wrapped her arms around him as best as she could. It was like hugging a stone pillar. She wasn’t entirely sure he had passed her not-a-serial-killer test, but he had gone above and beyond to help her out today. Not to mention saving her life the week before.
He hesitated, then leaned down to hug her back. They broke apart after a few seconds.
“I’ll call you next week. About the lesson, I mean,” she said.
“I look forward to it.” He clapped her on the shoulder. Her knees almost buckled under the weight of his hand.
When Claire turned around, Luke stood behind her, arms crossed over his chest and mouth set in a hard line. Had the trial and his mother’s betrayal set him off, or was it Claire’s embrace of the man who saved her life? If Sawyer hadn’t responded to the security call and tased Barney, Claire would almost certainly be dead. Although Luke had solved the mystery and rolled up with the police a minute later, it wouldn’t have been enough. In fact, two men in the past two weeks had prevented her untimely demise—Sawyer and Jamarcus—and neither one of them had been Luke. Did that bother him?
Claire opened her mouth to speak even though she had no idea what to say, but she was cut off by her mother’s voice.
“Finally!” Alice rubbed her wrists where the handcuffs had been. Her wayward stiletto and purse had been returned.
“Clairebear,” she said simply, wrapping her daughter in her arms.
“Can we go? I’m starting to feel like a zoo animal.” Rubberneckers exiting the courtroom swiveled to stare at her.
“Hang on.” Mindy gripped Claire’s arm and turned her away from the crowd. From her bag, she produced a makeup sponge and a travel-size bottle of Claire’s shade of foundation. She had taken to carrying it after Claire’s abduction to help her cover up bruises between client appointments. “I see you got the vagina off your face,” she said as she dabbed at the spot where the makeup had rubbed off.
“Sawyer helped,” Claire said.
Mindy paused and looked directly into Claire’s eyes. She was lovely, like a barely contained wildfire.
“You should be careful.”
“With what?” Claire asked. Could Mindy tell Claire had hit her head off a cabinet that morning?
“Sawyer,” Mindy said, barely above a whisper. “Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed how he looks at you.”
Claire frowned.
“Don’t frown. Now I have to even this side out,” Mindy sighed, returning to dabbing.
“If he’s looking at me, it’s probably just because he’s shocked to see me in any state other than topless and covered in blood. He saved my life and he’s Kyle’s groomsman. Are you proposing that I ignore him?”
Mindy closed the bottle of foundation and tucked it back in her purse. “Just be careful.”
“Oh, thank you for reminding me. Luke lied about having a brother, so I have to go address that now. Thanks for the hooch.” Claire handed the mostly full thermos back to Mindy.
“What?” Mindy said, but Claire ignored her. They would have time to talk about the George situation after she had words with Luke.
She turned back to her mother, who was chatting with Nicole.
“Claire, darling. I don’t have to be at the airport until later this evening. I thought we could go back to your apartment and I’ll make lunch for everyone. I was thinking Grandma Alejo’s empanada recipe.”
Claire hesitated. After the craziness of the morning, she was torn between her love of Mexican food and her deep desire to be alone and process the day.
“Let’s do lunch at Luke’s,” she suggested. “He has more room. And a wine cellar.” Not to mention his house was more conducive to a post-lunch screaming match.