Page 63 of Putting Out
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Something was happening. There was too much movement. Everyone was moving and taking things. Through the camera lens he could see down to where the road flattened near the house. The tall one was putting stuff in the truck.
He hated the tall one. He was always around Reilly. Always so near her so he couldn’t get close. When she was on TV he was there. When she went to the barn he was there.
Why was he taking everything away?
Those things were hers. The mat that she lay on. The large, heavy ball she’d used to help her grow stronger.
He’d seen those things. He’d been to the barn and seen them on the ground. He’d sneaked in late at night and he’d smelled them. The tall one was taking them away and putting them in the dark truck. Why?
He needed his guardian angel. The angel had come to him a few nights ago and told him what he needed to do. Now he needed to tell him what was happening.
But wait. There she was on the porch. So pretty with her blonde hair falling down her back. She moved like a goddess. Like a pretty blonde princess. He was so lucky God had provided him with the help he needed to be so close to her.
Reilly. He could stare at her all day. But now she was putting bags in the back of one of the cars. Luggage. That wasn’t good. That meant that she was going somewhere, somewhere he didn’t know. That couldn’t be. He couldn’t see her in the place he didn’t know.
He would ask the angel. The angel would tell him where to go.
* * *
Luke leanedout the window and punched in the code to get through the gate. Skidaway Island was prime real estate outside of Savannah, which was more than enough reason to buy, but that wasn’t what attracted Luke to this place.
Pulling up into the driveway, he sighed as he spotted the house. An old-fashioned Southern plantation home, gleaming white with black shutters, it reminded him of another home, which had withstood the test of time. The sun was setting behind it and it almost seemed to glow in the orange and purple light that surrounded it.
“Wow. Cool house. Is this a real antebellum plantation home?” Reilly leaned out the window.
“No, it was built four years ago. But it looks old, doesn’t it? I love it.”
“You bought a new place that looks old.”
“It was sentimental.”
“Sentimental? Who are you channeling Rhett Butler? You were raised on the West Coast.”
Luke shrugged off her teasing and got out of the car. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a house steeped in age, history, and tradition, but it looked like a house that might be. It was the closest he’d come to finding something that made him feel like he had roots. Like the farmhouse. So he bought it. One advantage of the whole being-rich thing.
“Trust me, you wouldn’t want an original. This house has four bathrooms, two Jacuzzis and a pool. There’s plenty of property out back. We’re not too far from Moon River and there’s enough marshland to lose as many golf balls as you can stand.”
“Moon River. Like the song?”
“There’s a song?”
Reilly shook her head, dismissing all men as culturally deprived. For Luke, if something wasn’t being blown up or chased by a car in a movie he had nothing to do with it. It was much the same for Kenny. Kenny, who was currently snoring softly in the backseat of the car.
“Hey, Kenny, we’re here!” Reilly shouted. She grimaced in disgust as he wiped a smudge of drool from his chin. “You are worse than a two-year-old in a car, you know that?”
“I was tired,” he grumbled.
Between Luke, Kenny and then add Odie, the amount of testosterone she was going to be sharing space with for the next several weeks was a little overwhelming. Thank heavens she’d have Pierce. Eye candy and balance. A woman couldn’t ask for more.
Together they stumbled out of the car and collected the luggage. Luke fussed with the front door lock while he tried to figure out which of his eight keys he needed. He also needed to remember the alarm code.
“Lots of security. That’s good.” Kenny shifted a few bags over his shoulders. “I got to tell you, I was getting a little creeped out by the phone calls and the letters.”
“I’m happier the press is going to have to stay outside the gated community. That’s right, isn’t it? They won’t be allowed inside.”
“Nope,” Luke assured her. “Only those with an owner’s permission. They either have to know the code or be let inside. The residents of this community aren’t likely to offer any assistance to the press. This place is about privacy.”
