Page 52 of The Wicked

My father would interrogate her, my stepmother would smother her, and my half-brother would either hit on her or insult her, depending on which side of the bed he’d gotten out of that morning. If I was going to stand any chance with Sara, I needed to build a solid footing for our relationship before I walked her into a nightmare.

Johannes snorted. “Hell, no.”

“How long are you staying in France?”

He turned to Anouska. “How long do you want to stay here, babe?”

A shrug, and she arranged her fine blonde hair over one breast. “I’m bored with snow. I want to visit Vittoria in Milan.”

Translation: Anouska wanted to shop, and Johannes would go along with the plan because Vittoria was always up for a three-way. Or a four-way—I knew that from experience. They wouldn’t be back for at least a week.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Johannes grinned and picked up his wine. “That doesn’t leave much out.”

“It leaves out breaking your leg off-piste again.”

Always the optimist, he just laughed off the comment. “If I’m confined to the chalet, I’ll have plenty of time to paint and fuck.”

Anouska smiled in the background, and I struggled to keep a straight face. “Don’t get any ideas, Nous.”

“I always have ideas. Garrett, if you like this woman, you should take her a gift. A purse, a scarf, a necklace. Women love gifts.”

True, but Sara wasn’t a woman I could buy with diamonds and pearls. The line between impressing her and insulting her was wafer thin and as dangerous as a high wire. One wrong step, and I’d lose my balance. I blew Anouska a kiss and ended the call.

Challenge accepted.

* * *

Mary’s Coffee House was just along the street from the Craft Cabin, and if I sat at a table in the window, I could watch the craft store’s parking lot and the people coming and going. With luck, Paulo would be working today—he’d been the most willing to talk. But the only staff I’d seen so far were Darla and a younger woman with dark brown hair and a ready smile. The brunette had helped a couple of customers carry bags out to their cars.

Tawna’s sharp inhale had told me she was far from amused when I’d asked her to reschedule yet another day of meetings, but I paid her to do the impossible, and finding Sara—again—was more important than speaking with reps from the hundred companies who wanted my family’s money. Dorsey Holdings had plenty of investments. I only had one Cinderella.

My phone vibrated with a message.

Tawna

I told them you were sick, and I’ve cleared what I can from tomorrow in case you need more time.

Appreciated.

Tawna was one of the few people I trusted to have my back, and I made a mental note to send her flowers. Or maybe I could take her a box of pastries from the Coffee House? If I had to spend much time here, I’d need to fit in extra gym sessions.

One car in the parking lot interested me: a dark green Toyota Corolla. It had been there yesterday when I picked Sara up—that sounded much better than abducting her—and it didn’t look as if it had moved overnight. Was it hers? I couldn’t make out the licence plate, but if she didn’t show up in the next half hour, I’d take a walk over there. Dorsey Holdings kept an investigator on retainer, and he’d be able to find out who owned it.

“Can I warm up your coffee?” Mary asked, approaching with a jug. A plump, grey-haired woman, she wore a row of bangles on one wrist that jingled every time she moved.

“Thanks.”

Mary topped off my mug, but she didn’t move away. Curious? I hadn’t missed the glances she’d been casting in my direction all morning.

“Waiting for someone?” she asked.

“Just killing time before a meeting.” This was a small town. Plenty of tourists passed through thanks to the Peninsula, but there couldn’t be too many permanent residents. How many Saras were there? Surely not more than one or two? I had questions of my own, but I also didn’t want people gossiping, not about either of us. I glanced at my watch. “Sara emailed to say she was running a little late.”

“You mean Sara Baldwin?”

Jackpot.

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