Page 98 of The Woman in the Garage

It had been incredible.

I even got little flutters at the memory.

In fact, I got flutters pretty much anytime I thought about Santo.

I was pretty damn sure at this point that I was no longer just crushing on the man, but had fallen. Hard, in fact.

It didn’t seem like it should be possible so soon. But the more time I spent with him, the more sure I felt about him, about a future, about rings and babies and forevers.

I squinted at the light shining in through the blinds in the bathroom, confused why it was so bright outside.

Had I overslept?

Why hadn’t Santo woken me up?

As I brushed my teeth, I went back to grab my phone, my eyes nearly bugging out of my head at the time I saw there.

I was late. Like anhourlate for work.

I hated being late. I was one of those ‘if you’re not early, you’re late’ people. And while I understood that I was the boss and I had no set schedule, I felt like I needed to be at the shop at a reasonable hour.

So I forewent the shower I really wanted, pulling my messy hair back into a lazy ponytail, and slipped into the first dress I grabbed, put my feet into ballet flats, and rushed downstairs.

“Santo?” I called, following the scent of coffee to the kitchen. But the burner under the pot was already off.

Santo had been gone for a while. He would have had hot coffee for me otherwise.

There was a bag on the counter and a notepad beside it.

Already late, I decided I could quickly butter a bagel to eat as I drove to work.

I read Santo’s note, not realizing I was smiling at just the thought of him stopping to write it for me.

Bagel in one hand—and Santo’s note in my other because I wanted to look at it again later like the lovesick fool I was—I made my way toward the front door where my purse was sitting.

I could have gone back to the kitchen to exit the back door, but I reached to set the security system at the front door instead.

I didn’t realize my mistake until I turned the knob and pulled the door open.

And there he was.

My attacker.

I knew it the second I saw his face.

Because there was no other conceivable reason for him to be there at Santo’s door otherwise.

David.

The only person at the shop that I’d figured was at least halfway decent.

The thief of my ducky and bunny mug.

The only one to ever offer me a kind word or smile.

Thankfully, my mind was working fast.

Before I could even blink, I was slamming the door.

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