Chapter 10 Genie on the Loose
Genie on the Loose
When they arrived at the house Amy shared with Micky, the place was dark and Micky’s truck wasn’t in the driveway.
Amy tensed beside Shane. “I guess Mick hasn’t made it home yet.”
Shane unclipped his seat belt. “Is it possible he parked in the garage and crashed?”
“No, my Explorer’s parked in there. His pickup won’t even fit.
” She let out a defeated sigh that made him want to do something to make her feel better.
When she turned to him, she gave him that opportunity.
“Would you mind coming inside with me just in case …” She trailed off, never finishing the thought.
“Yeah, of course. I was planning on it anyway. Don’t think you ever need to ask, Amy.” If you were mine …
She gave him a wan smile, and he followed her into the house.
She turned on lights, and much as he’d done in her office, he looked around and took it in.
Unlike her business, though, this interior looked like someplace that belonged to a single guy.
It didn’t have those unique touches that normally signaled a woman lived there.
“How about you walk me through?” he offered. “That way we can be sure everything is the way you left it.”
The living room was a clutter of boxes and the same broken-down furniture Shane had seen the last time he’d been in Micky’s house, which had been before Amy moved in.
The coffee table held stacks of automotive magazines, and on one of the side tables, he spotted a saucer that doubled as an ashtray.
Except neither Micky nor Amy smoked … cigarettes.
Tucked behind the same table was a glass object that was either a sculpture of a microscope or a bong.
As she led him through the messy two-bedroom bungalow, he tried not to focus on anything that could be embarrassing for her, but truly, he saw very little that looked as though it belonged to her anyway.
“Does everything look like you left it?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Near as I can tell, though as messy as it is, I’m not sure I’d know the difference. With the store, it’s easy to tell because that’s all me. I’ve organized everything there in a specific way. I gave up trying to keep this place orderly a long time ago.”
He couldn’t corral his curiosity. “I see mostly Micky’s stuff here. Do you keep yours somewhere else?”
“Yes. Most of my things are in storage in a loft above the coffee shop. Micky didn’t want me to move it in because he wasn’t sure our living together was going to work out.
After a while, I got used to the way it was and didn’t bother hauling my stuff over.
Too much work.” As if she’d read his mind, she added, “Any drug paraphernalia you see belongs to him, not me.”
Weed was legal in Colorado, and it didn’t surprise him that Micky indulged. He felt an odd unfurling of relief that Amy didn’t.
“Does Micky do a lot of, uh, drug-related stuff?”
She shook her head. “To my knowledge, nothing more than marijuana.”
Could Micky’s behavioral change be the result of cannabis-induced psychosis? Shane filed the question away to be examined later. “So when you moved in, were you thinking of this as a temporary arrangement?”
“I don’t know what I thought, but it’s not like I have that many possessions to begin with.”
She beckoned him into the kitchen, which was at the end of a hallway. The decor didn’t change. There was absolutely no trace of Amy anywhere.
Curiosity hijacked his tongue. “How long have you lived here?”
Turning on the harsh fluorescents in the kitchen’s ceiling, she headed for the fridge, opened it, and peered inside.
“Seven or eight months now. The guy who owned the bungalow where I was living decided to sell, and I wasn’t having any luck finding anything else, so when Micky suggested I move in here, I agreed.
” She plucked out a beer bottle and held it up. “Beer?”
“No, thanks.”
“Water? Soda? Coffee? Whiskey?”
Amy’s leaning toward customer service was ingrained. She so earnestly tried to please, and he tried not to grin. “I’ll take a glass of milk, if you have any.”
“Yep, I think I can do that. Have a seat.” She motioned for him to sit at a battered round wooden table with mismatched chairs.
None of the furnishings were like her shop.
There, things might not match, but they were in good shape, and they seemed to go together despite their differences—as though she had deliberately planned it that way, carefully curating every piece.
The combinations worked and gave the place a light, whimsical vibe that mirrored her personality.
It was one of the reasons he loved going there.
She put the beer bottle back in the fridge and plucked out a carton of milk instead. “Two percent okay?”
He pulled out one of the sturdier looking chairs and lowered himself into it. “Two percent is perfect.”
“Mind if I join you?”
“Please do.” Any excuse to stick around a little longer was fine by him, his fatigue long forgotten. “Micky won’t mind if I’m hanging out with you?”
She had turned toward the counter where she’d placed the milk, and even though her back was to him, he noticed a stutter that seemed to move through her entire body.
A beat later, she reached for two glasses in an overhead cabinet.
“I don’t see how he could. I mean, you guys have been friends for ages, so what would there be for him to mind?
Besides, he’s not here, and I have no idea when he’s coming home. ” Her tone held an unmistakable edge.
Shane leaned forward, his forearms on the scarred table top, debating whether to press her about what was going on and, most importantly, whether she was safe. Before he could formulate the question, though, she whirled.
“I’m moving out.”
His back went ramrod straight, and before he could stop himself, he blurted, “When?” Shit!
That hadn’t come out right. He should have asked something else, anything else, that would have masked how ridiculously excited he was to hear the news.
“Are you all right? Do you feel safe? Do you need counseling?” or a simple “Why?”
She cast her eyes down and swallowed. The hand holding the milk visibly shook, and he rose, moving closer, ready to take the carton from her.
She looked up at him with big, haunted eyes.
Obsidian shimmered with flecks of gold beneath the surface, full of vulnerability so palpable his heart squeezed.
Up close like this, her features sharpened, a striking combination of high cheekbones, straight nose, and smooth skin the color of warm teak kissed by sunlight.
He grabbed the reins on his galloping heart and gave them a hard yank.
“Do you hate me?”
His head jerked back. “Why would I hate you?”
“Micky’s your friend.”
“So are you.”
Her entire body seemed to relax. “Micky doesn’t know yet.” Eyes downcast once more, she spoke in a voice that was small and flat, as if talking into a void. She set the carton down and rubbed her slender fingers over her forehead. “Oh Lord, I’m so sorry to lay this on you.”
“Don’t be sorry. Sounds like you need to get it off your chest.” His own puffed a little with the knowledge she’d confided in him.
Her eyes darted back to his. “I’m not sure I knew until just now that it was on my chest,” she laugh-snorted.
Shane gave her a reassuring half-smile. “Your secret’s safe with me. When are you planning to tell him?”
“I was hoping to tell him today, but I never got the chance. I’ve already signed a lease. I’m worried he’s going to find out from someone besides me. That wouldn’t be right.”
His thoughts in a blender, Shane picked up the carton, popped open the spout, and began to pour the milk into the glasses. She didn’t stop him, merely stood watching his movements as if in a trance.
“How do you think he’ll react?”
“I have no idea. Part of me thinks he won’t react at all, while another part of me worries he’ll rage at me.”
He handed her a full glass, his protectiveness in full array. “Is that something he does? Rage at you?”
“No, not really. I mean, he blows up, but it usually passes quickly. He’s never raised a hand against me. If he had, I’d have been gone a long time ago.”
“Where are you moving?” he finally thought to ask.
“There’s a one-bedroom above the Vogue Vault that Winona put up for rent.”
Thank God she was staying in Fall River. But … Winona? Oh, shit. “When did you sign?”
“Two days ago. I bet I know what you’re thinking, but it’s worse. I signed the lease with Germaine.”
He took a sip of milk to have something to do. “That is worse.” Germaine had grown up with them, but she was best known for her love of gossip, usually sprinkled with a toxic blend of pettiness and spite. Germaine loved feeding off other people’s misery.
“I think she left town—I didn’t see her at the Big Event today—so I might have another day or two before word spreads.” Amy’s eyes now filled with hope he hated to dash, so he didn’t.
“When do you move in?”
“I was hoping to start tomorrow.”
“Can I help?”
Furrows formed across her forehead. “Hailey volunteered. Besides, I know how busy you are, and I don’t want to cut into your work schedule.”
“Today was my last shift for the week. I’m off for the next three days.
” He winced inside at the eagerness in his voice, so he tempered it with a drawl.
“Hailey definitely punches above her weight class, but between me and my truck, I can haul a whole hell of a lot more than she can. Plus, I think her schedule is a little more packed than mine right now. Just sayin’. ”
“Unless you get called out for SAR.”
“Doubtful. We’re in that in-between time of the year.
Not many people are climbing or ATVing, and the winter sports haven’t started up yet.
I’ve got time.” Not exactly true. He’d promised Reece he’d help sort some of the gear at SAR headquarters.
If Reece knew why Shane was bowing out, though, he wouldn’t have a problem. This was for Amy.