Page 99 of Call Back

And we were back to this. “Fine. Whatever. I have to start a load of laundry before I go, so feel free to leave whenever you like.” I headed into the bedroom and sorted the dirty laundry on my bed into piles. But when I grabbed a pair of jeans, my breath caught in my throat. I’d forgotten to text Brady. If he insisted on keeping our appointment, I’d need to bring something to wear for our hike into the woods. I didn’t have anything better to bring than dirty jeans and a T-shirt, but there didn’t seem much point in wearing clean clothes for a hike. The rain last night was bound to make it a muddy mess.

Just like the night it had happened ten years ago.

Panic buzzed at the edges of my awareness, threatening to bloom into a full-blown panic attack. After a half-minute of me picturing myself on a beach and the sun warming my skin—one of the relaxation methods I’d picked up over the past ten years—I calmed down enough to send Brady a text.

Can we reschedule tonight? Belinda needs me.

I picked up an armload of whites to put into the small washing machine tucked into the linen closet. I stopped as soon as I walked out of the bedroom, shocked to see Colt still on the sofa.

“I thought you were leaving.”

He snorted. “You said I was leaving. I never said any such thing. If you think I’m leaving you alone with a serial killer who might be targeting you, then you’ve got another think coming.”

I gave him a look of disbelief.

He stretched his arm along the back of the sofa. “I thought you were going to be late for work? Let me drop you off.”

I watched him for a couple of seconds, trying to figure out if he was up to something, but he seemed to be on the up and up. “Okay . . .”

After I started the load, I grabbed the jeans, T-shirt, and a pair of athletic shoes in case I couldn’t back out of my hike with Brady. As an afterthought, I grabbed a light jacket in case it cooled off. Unfortunately, I’d already gone through my limited stash of tote bags to take things to Brady’s. I’d have to store the loose clothes in the back room at the shop. Alvin would grill me all afternoon until I gave him a decent excuse.

Turned out Colt beat Alvin to it. He eyed the stack of clothes in my arms as I grabbed my purse.

“What?” I asked with a hint of attitude.

“What plans do you have with Detective Hot Stuff that requires jeans and tennis shoes?”

“Who says my plans are with him?”

“So they’re not?”

I shook my head. “You have your mysterious plans, and I have mine.”

He followed me out the door and grabbed the keys out of my hand to lock it behind us. “Do you think it was a good idea to start a load of wash?” he asked as he followed me down the stairs. “It will start to stink before you get back to put it in the dryer.”

“Imagine that,” I said sarcastically. “A man who’s a laundry expert.”

“Have you ever seen me in dirty clothes?” he asked as he walked around to the passenger side of his truck and opened the door for me. “I know my way around a washer and dryer.”

I narrowed my eyes and stared up at him. “Like you know your way around a truck?”

“What?” he asked. “You’ve got your arms full, and I’m capable of being a gentleman.”

He gave me a big toothy grin as he shut the door behind me. Seconds later, he slid behind the wheel.

“Thanks for your help, Colt.”

He shot me a tight smile. “I’m your laundry hotline should you need the help. When do you plan on coming back?”

We both knew that wasn’t what I had meant. “Tonight.” I hadn’t been entirely sure until the word left my lips.

His eyebrows rose. “Bennett’s staying with you tonight?”

“No,” I said slowly. “I’m coming home alone.”

He was quiet for a few seconds. “I was joking this morning about the lover’s spat, Mags.”

“I know . . . It’s complicated.”

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