Page 97 of Rogue's Path
“This store carries very luxurious brands. Several cost tens of thousands of dollars.”
Rogue just raises an eyebrow at the man.
“Our watches…are…um…over here.” The salesman walks over to the other side of the store.
We start to follow him, but Rogue stops halfway there. “While she’s picking them, you can wrap up these earrings for her.”
“Which ones?” Like a rat excited about the cheese in front of him, he scurries over.
“Those peach ones.”
Rogue has amazing taste. They are simple, classic, and elegant. They would go well with my wardrobe. The stones aren’t huge, but they shimmer just enough to draw attention to the wearer’s ears. “Those are beautiful.”
“Um…those are…natural peach sapphires. They’re incredibly rare and expensive.”
Rogue doesn’t say anything. He pulls out his wallet and hands the man a black credit card.
“I’ll be right back.”
Never have I seen eyes bulge quite like that. This guy is going to be the inspiration for the next time someone gets strangled to death in my books.
“Now for your watch…”
It isn’t as easy as most people think to pick a watch. They all look the same.
Rogue’s phone rings. He doesn’t move away when he answers. “What?”
I stop looking and try to listen unobtrusively, to no avail.
“Yeah. It’s for Peaches.” Rogue rubs his thumb along my palm. “Clear the charges for the store. I’m going to get another item or two.” He clicks off. “Have you found one you like?”
“No. Not yet. I’m not usually this indecisive.”
“It’s probably all the stress. Don’t worry about it.” Rogue glances down at the case. “What about this one? It matches your earrings.”
There are so many stones on the watch face. “It’s too much.”
“So, we go simpler.”
Meltdown and Miles
Rogue
The farther we get from the jewelry store, the more somber Peaches’ face gets. She’s barely spoken a word, and there’s no point in pushing her right now. Whatever is going on in that mind of hers isn’t good.
Did she see something that triggered her to think about the stalker? There haven’t been any updates yet, but my brothers are working hard to follow any leads they can find.
I hate this. I hate not knowing what’s hurting her. I hate not being able to fix everything for her.
Peaches’ face doesn’t change when I lift her into the truck. There’s no flirty thank you. Or any soft sighs. There’s no tempting grin. She doesn’t hold on to me until I want to break the promise I made to her. It’s like I put a zombie in my car.
This has got to end, or I’m going to go find someone to help her.
After closing her door, I run around the front of the truck and hop into my seat.
Quiet little sobs paralyze me for a minute.
What did I miss? What could have possibly done this to her?
