Page 52 of Trouble Walked In

“He is,” Carrie agreed.

Her thoughts swirled around visions of Renic in the SUV. The look in his eyes had been so…so…real. “His eyes swirl, you know?”

“They do?”

“It’s evil. They’re evil swirly eyes.” She wished he were here right now so she could check to see if they still did that.

“I think you need to get to bed, sweetie. Come on.” Carrie helped her to her feet and navigated her toward the back door of the inn.

“Wait. I have work. Have to get the house ready.”

Carrie squeezed her shoulders. “No, you don’t. The work’s done for today. All you need to do right now is sleep.”

They stumbled out the back door and across the lawn toward her house. “I have an adorable house, don’t I.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I have a great life. And great friends.” Lizzie squeezed Carrie in a side hug.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Carrie said.

“I don’t need any”—she burped and covered her mouth to stifle the giggle—“I don’t need a man.”

“No, you don’t.”

Carrie sounded like she didn’t believe her, so she tried again. “I had one of those already. Look how that turned out.”

“He was an immature asshole. It’s not the same thing.”

“It isn’t?” Lizzie frowned. “It feels like the same thing to me.”

“Renic is nice. Mature. He cares about you and Della. I don’t think he’s faking that.”

Lizzie started to protest that assessment, but the words slipped away. She was too tired to think about any of this right now. She stumbled over one of the bricks in front of herhouse and clung to Carrie for support. “See, this is why I don’t drink wine.”

“Anybody trips if they’ve had a whole bottle, sweetie. It’s not the wine. It’s the amount. Now come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“Carrie?”

Carrie opened the door and ushered her inside. “Yeah?”

“He could really hurt my heart. You know?”

Carrie closed the door behind them. “He could. But you know what? He could heal it, too.”

Chapter Fourteen

Renic woke the next morning to the sound of an alarm clock instead of the insistent knocking he’d expected. He waited, hoping Lizzie would show up so he could talk her into exploring the sheets together.

When the sun broke through the curtains, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower. He was fully dressed before he admitted to himself that she wasn’t going to show.

“Damn,” he said to the empty room.

He gave the rumpled sheets one last regretful look, then picked up his phone. A blank screen stared back at him. He clicked the button and waited for it to power up, a little disconcerted that he’d left it off for so long.

After everyone had left his room, he’d collapsed on the bed and slept like a man who’d had satisfying sex with a beautiful woman and hadn’t given work a single thought.

The screen lit up, displaying several texts from Morgan, most of which were sent the previous night.

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