Chapter Twelve
Bradly Retreat
Charly was immensely grateful that Billie was gone when she woke up.
Not that she regretted last night. No way.
She tossed aside the dryer she’d used on her hair and hugged herself.
She had a right at this point to have a moment.
To feel something again. Alex had been gone for three years.
As surprising as it was…as much as she had expected the morning after to be filled with utter and total guilt, she felt none.
What she felt was regret that she’d lost a wonderful husband. A part of him would always be with her.
Billie had been correct when he’d said that Alex would want her to move on.
Who could say whether one year or three was the proper length of time to grieve?
But Charly trusted herself on that one. Last night had felt very right.
And pretty damned amazing. Even if she had been the one to push him over the line when he’d resisted.
She brushed her hair and then twisted it into a long braid.
It was far too wild to leave loose when she had work to do.
Shelly was coming to hang around the office and to check in the new arrivals.
Billie hadn’t said for sure what he intended to do or where he planned to start this morning.
Talk had not been on their minds after dinner last night.
She decided he hadn’t gone far, since his SUV was still parked out front next to the borrowed truck.
Technically, she hadn’t borrowed it. Vince had insisted on leaving it.
But she supposed that was a good thing. If Billie had places to go that didn’t include her, she would need some means of transportation and Lola was not road worthy because she lacked seat belts.
Billie had probably returned to his cabin to shower and change. His clothes and toiletries were there. Maybe he had a conference call with his agency or with the sheriff. Whatever the case, he would fill her in when he came back.
She tidied the bedcovers, inhaling the scent of him and their time together. A smile spread across her lips. She knew better than to get used to having him around. As soon as he found Briana and Martin, he would be going back to Chicago. His work was there…his family was there.
A trickle of new regret slid through her. She had known Billie barely three days and already she felt like they were old friends. She hadn’t sensed such a connection to another person since Alex.
“Let it go, Charly,” she murmured.
In the kitchen she scrambled a few eggs and prepared some toast. Prepping and cooking an easy breakfast prevented her from dwelling on things she could not change. Just as the two slices of browned bread popped out of the toaster, a knock followed by “Good morning” echoed through the house.
Billie entered the kitchen. He glanced at the eggs she’d scraped onto two plates and smiled. “If that extra plate is for me I will gladly do the cleanup.” He sent her an unreadable look. “Or whatever you need.”
Feeling flushed at the idea of what those words meant, she placed a slice of toast on each plate. “Grab those and I’ll get the orange juice.”
He carried the plates to the table. She met him there with two glasses and the orange juice.
Once they’d settled, Charly felt a little shy sitting across from him knowing that he’d seen every part of her.
Then again, she smiled to herself, she had seen and explored every part of him as well.
No need to be embarrassed or shy. Easier said than done.
But then she was out of practice on these things.
She took a breath and asked, “So do you do this often?”
It wasn’t until she asked the question that she realized how it sounded. Dear God. She closed her eyes for a second in frustration at her bad choice in words.
“Have eggs and toast with a beautiful woman?” His lips spread into a sexy grin. “Or spend the night in her bed?”
She fought the urge to rush from the room but she couldn’t stop the need to shift around in her seat. “Yes…no.” She shook her head. “I mean yes to the last part.”
He laughed. “No. I do not do this often. In fact, becoming personally involved with a client is frowned upon. Usually, the client is the one who’s suffered some tragedy or been haunted by some person or the past. I would never take advantage of anyone in a vulnerable situation.”
“I’m not a client,” she responded far too quickly. “And I’m not in a vulnerable spot.”
“No. You are not.” He pushed the eggs around on the plate with his fork. “But I have my doubts as to whether that would have mattered this time.” His gaze locked with hers and she could feel the heat across the table. “I recognize my limitations, and resisting you may have been beyond my ability.”
She managed a single nod, certain her cheeks were red. “Good.”
“Good,” he agreed.
“Are we going to track down Kerrick today?” she asked before tearing off a bite of toast. Changing the subject was the only way she could stop squirming in her seat. She also felt confident that getting on with business would help keep her foot out of her mouth.
“If we can find him away from his mother, I think that is a great starting place.” He sipped his orange juice.
Charly chewed her lip. There was one way that might work. “I could call him. Tell him I need to talk to him alone. I think he might be willing to do that.”
Billie’s gaze narrowed. “Has he indicated that he’s interested in you?”
She shrugged. “He’s interested in any female still breathing, I think.
” Okay, that was unkind. “Years ago his mother tried to push us together. But that was a long time ago. More recently, he has asked me to dinner a couple of times. To a local ball game once. But I’ve always said no.
I suppose that suggests he is to some degree. ”
“He’s not your type?” Billie finished off his toast.
“I don’t really know him. I see him in town occasionally but that’s it.
We’ve never really been friends. He was a couple of years ahead of me in school.
I suppose we’re really no more than acquaintances.
I’m far more familiar with his mother and I don’t think he could ever be my type because she’s his mother. ”
She winced. “Sorry. That really was mean.”
“It was just the truth.” Billie studied her a moment. “Does he have a group of friends he hangs out with?”
Charly had to think about that question.
“There are a couple of guys I’ve seen him with from time to time.
Arlon Jones. He has a bait and tackle store on the waterfront.
His daddy started it decades ago and Arlon took over when he retired.
” She searched her memory for the others.
“Finn Grayson,” she said, recalling another.
“He’s a boat mechanic.” She scrunched her face in concentration once more.
“Well, I don’t know that he actually does the work anymore.
His business has boomed over the years. His shop services boats for just about everybody around here.
Especially the folks who have private docks and mega mansions. ”
Billie downed the last of his orange juice. “Anyone else?”
Who was that other guy? Oh yeah. She remembered now.
“Perry Hillard. He’s just…” How did she describe Perry?
“He’s like the junk guy. He’s always picking up stuff people put out to the road for trash collection.
You know, old tables or chairs or damaged bicycles.
Basically anything and everything. You can even call him and have him come by and remove junk you don’t want or need anymore.
Not the sort of stuff you can donate to someone who might need it, but the damaged or nonworking stuff that no one wants. ”
“Let’s start with the junk guy.” He tilted his head toward the counter. “I’m cleaning up.”
Charly took her plate to the sink. “You’ll get no argument from me.”
While he was on dishwashing duty, Shelly arrived.
Charly joined her at the desk in the corner of the living room she used as an office.
She gave her the rundown on who was checking in and which cabins they had selected.
The one the Willards had used was still off-limits. And the treehouse, of course.
“So that’s the PI?” Shelly whispered, stealing a glance toward the kitchen.
Charly nodded. “That’s him.”
“Wow.” She waggled her eyebrows. “All I can say is he’s hot.”
Charly waved her off. “I’ll have my cell with me if you need to reach me.”
Billie appeared at the door. “You ready?”
She was. Absolutely. Charly grabbed her shoulder bag and draped it across her. She rarely carried her bag unless she was headed into town for supplies, but she had no idea what this day would call for.
“I am,” she announced.
When they were in his SUV she gave him the directions to the last known address she had for Perry. It was a small, wooded lot next to an RV park off the beaten path.
Hillard Residence
Cha-La-Kee Road, 9:00 a.m.
PERRY HILLARD’S SMALL travel trailer sat in the woods a good distance from the road.
A little farther down that same road was the RV campground perched on the edge of the river.
In addition to numerous other amenities, the location was also recognized for its view of the well-known home with the built-in lighthouse.
But Perry’s little tin box on wheels that served as his home was only known for being the kind of place you didn’t go after dark.
All around the property was the junk he “collected.” Charly had heard the rumors that his so-called collecting was merely a cover for selling drugs.
She couldn’t say if there was any truth to the rumor.
The one time she’d hired Perry to haul away some old appliances was when she’d updated those in her cabin.
Alex had suggested she not hire him again.
He’d been suspicious of the guy and Alex generally liked everyone.
She had apparently exiled Perry to the far regions of her memory along with so many other Alex-related moments far too painful to remember.