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“What are you staring at?” I snap. “Do you want to see my tits or something?”
“You need to watch your language, young lady!” she says. “This is a nice building with nice people!”
“Well, how very nice for you,” I sneer, flipping her my middle finger before I take another sip of my coffee.
Yeah, we’re going to have a long day.
She scoffs, snaps her newspaper closed, and heads back inside. After I finish my breakfast, I do the same, relieved to see that Marta has left and I’m alone.
I load my dishes into the dishwasher, and a canvas print on the wall catches my eye.
Crater Lake. It isn’t far from Lost Hollow at all. I wonder if James has been there, if he’s even ever noticed the portrait, or if someone else bought it and decorated the entire place for him. I zone out and end up in the forest again with my back in the dirt…for a few seconds, anyway.
“Hey, beautiful,” James says as he walks through the front door. “You okay? Looks like you were lost in thought.”
“Yeah, I was just thinking about…how I got that scar on my back.”
“Oh, yeah,” he says. “The hiking accident, right?”
“Yeah…that’s the one.”
“That’s a nasty one,” he says.
“Really? It’s my favorite part of my body.”
He sets his briefcase down on the table, walks around the counter, and grabs my hips with his hands.
“Interesting choice; I can think of a few things I like better,” he says. “I don’t have much time—I have to be back in court in an hour—but I couldn’t stop thinking about my fiancé, and I just had to see you.”
I smile. “I can think of a few things we could do in an hour,” I tell him. I fist his shirt and pull him into me, lifting onto my toes and pressing my lips into his. I’m still experiencing some lingering side effects from my dream earlier that I wouldn’t mind burning off.
“I have to be back in an hour,” he says, kissing down my jawline until he reaches my neck. He leans in and whispers, “Which means I have to leave in…less than thirty, and honey, that’s not nearly enough time for all the things I want to do to you.”
I sigh and release him. “Fine.”
“Besides, there’s something I want to talk to you about,” he says. “Something happened this morning…it’s been weighing on me, and I just have to get it off my chest.”
He walks to the other side of the bar, pulls out a stool, and sits facing me.
Oh, god. Was I talking in my sleep? I hope not.
“Yeah, I have something I want to talk to you about, too, actually—you go first.”
“When we came home last night, things were…heated…in a good way. And it looks like you must have tossed your purse down in the entryway because its contents were all over the hall this morning.”
He’s giving me this look like I should know exactly what he’s talking about, but I can’t think of anything inside my purse that would be problematic.
Perplexed, I shrug. “Okay…and?”
“And…there was a handgun on the floor, Amelia—a powerful one from the looks of it. I don’t want guns in my house; I don’t want you carrying one. I mean, do you even know how to use it?”
I laugh.
“I don’t see what’s funny about this,” he says sternly.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, doing my best to stifle myself. “It was the last part. I know how to use a gun. I’m a goddamn sniper, so if that’s what you’re worried about, then there’s nothing to worry about at all.”
“I don’t like it, Amelia,” he says.
