My floundering has no impact on Glenn. He remains stony-faced as he says, "Daisy's dad and I go way back. We've had disagreements and agreements, we've been enemies and we've been friends. It was in our mutual best interest for you and your mother to go away."
My jaw tightens at the idea of someone,anyone, needing my mother to go away. "How could that have benefited you?"
"That will be my little secret." He tucks aside his fancy camel-colored pea coat so he can smoothly glide his hand in his pants pocket. A power move. "I'm here with a proposal. I will buy that old piece of shit house of yours outright, plus twenty percent."
"And do what with it?"
"None of your fucking business. It'll be mine to do whatever I want with it. I can piss on it, tear it down, or hang up ugly Christmas lights and keep them there all year."
"No. Fucking. Way." The plan was always to sell it, but to this guy?
He is unruffled by my response. "Are you planning on stealing my son's fiancée, and then going to jail? Do you think Daisy's going to come visit you? She's not. She's going to marry Duke next Saturday afternoon, and you're going to wise up and accept my offer." He walks out into the pouring rain, unfazed. His car slowly pulls away from the curb, then disappears.
I let myself inside. Slim Jim trots over, sitting back on his haunches to stare at me. He takes in my face, reading my expression, then moves his body until he is putting his weight against the front of my legs.
My hands run the length of his silky, reddish coat. The shock of defeat rolls through me, my body aching with it. Anger arrives next, heating up my limbs. All these years later, something,someone,wants to keep me from Daisy.
All I ever wanted was to be with her. As a friend when we were young. However she'll have me now, as adults.
The more I think about it, the angrier I feel. Daisy and I aren't kids anymore. The adults aren't running the show like they used to. We have voices now.
But what is it they're saying?
Chapter 46
Daisy
Penn doesn't showup for his afternoon physical therapy appointment.
"This is unlike him," Isla says. "He's always five minutes early, and he's never a no-call no-show."
I glance out the window to the driving rain, then back to the cuticle I've been picking. A dot of blood blooms beside my nail bed. "You can go home, Isla. Drive carefully," I say, before retreating back to my office. Grabbing my phone from my purse, I check it. It's only been one minute since the last time I checked, and not shockingly, there is no communication from Penn.
What if something happened? Fear knots my heart, panic sweeping through me. I place my tenth call to him, and when it goes unanswered, I've made my decision. I'm going to find him.
"Penn,"I yell, banging on his door. This is the third time I've knocked. I know he's here. His truck is in the driveway.
My hand is poised to knock when the door swings open. Penn, hair wet, has a towel wrapped around his waist. "Daisy," he reaches for me, pulling me inside. "How long have you been out there?" His eyes rake over my body. "You are soaking wet."
My clothing sticks to me, and I'm betting my ponytail closely resembles a rat tail at this point, but none of that matters, for two reasons. One, Penn is ok. Two, Penn is wearing a towel.Onlya towel.
I drag my eyes up from the view of his hips, thebump bump bumpof his ab muscles. There were six. I counted.
"I was worried about you. You didn't show up for your PT appointment."
His face clouds. "I know, and I'm sorry. I just got out of the shower, and before that," he hesitates, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "I was struggling a little bit. But I should have at least texted you and let you know. I'm sorry for worrying you."
I take a step toward him to hug him hello, but my sneakers squeak on the floor. "I'll just get out of your hair," I say, pointing back to my car. "I'm not trying to make a mess of your floor."
"No," he rushes to say. "Stay. Let me grab you shorts and a T-shirt." He looks down. "And maybe some for myself."
I manage a relieved chuckle. "Sounds good." I watch him walk up the stairs, the way the thin towel drapes over his ass. I desperately want to reach out, pluck the fold in the front that's keeping it tied, and watch the towel fall to the floor. I already know what he looks like, how he's thick and veined.
The worry that inundated me on my way over here has melted, turning into something else that has my blood rushing in all directions. Desire.
Penn returns, wearing soft, gray shorts, and a plain black T-shirt. He hands me a towel. "I laid some clothes out on the bed for you."
I toe off my shoes, doing my best to dry a little of my legs and my arms and my hair before going up the stairs. I head for the main bedroom, where I find shorts similar to the ones Penn is wearing, plus a button-up collared shirt.
