“We talk all the time. What’s with the inquisition, Gelderman?”
“Just being friendly, Smith. I’m a friendly kind of guy. Ask anyone.”
“Whatever.” Annabelle waved a hand. She didn’t want to talk about Cooper right now, in case she spat out something she shouldn’t.
“Hey, Declan, how’s the new book going? Bran said you released it last week.” Deliberately changing the subject, Annabelle latched on to the one thing that would draw Ethan’s attention.
“Yes, it’s going well. Thank you, Annabelle.” She watched him get to his feet and leave the room briefly before returning with two books. “These are for you two.” He then handed one to her and the other to Ethan.
“I-I… wow.”
Annabelle couldn’t help her laugh as color filled the Texan’s cheeks and he fumbled for words. The only thing in this world that seemed to unsettle Ethan Gelderman the Fifth was talking about Declan’s and Branna’s books. Both were crime writers, and very well-known ones, and he was, she’d come to realize, their biggest fan.
“It’s signedTo Ethan, It’s an honor to have you in my life. D.J. O’Donnell.” The awe in his voice made everyone smile. He looked like a young boy who’d been handed his favorite toy.
“Jesus, Tex, will you man up? Seriously, this worship shit is getting old.” Jake slapped his friend on the back. “They’re in your life now. You need get this stuff under control. It’s getting embarrassing.”
“Ha, ha.” Ethan found a smile, and it wasn’t his usual wide, smooth one; this was sweet and innocent, but Annabelle was damned sure it didn’t endear him to her in any way. Climbing to her feet, she gave Declan a look.
“Shall we leave now, Annabelle?”
“Would that be alright with you, Declan? I have a few things I need to do, and looking at him is making me nauseous.” She nodded her head toward Ethan, who was running his hand reverently over the cover of the book.
“Not even your acid tongue can spoil this moment for me, Smith.”
“Why are you guys always doing that?”
“Doing what, Mikey?” Annabelle grabbed her purse off the back of the chair and slung it over her shoulder, then bent to pick up the rest of her things that Ethan had carried inside.
“Insulting each other?”
“Because, Mikey, if they stop, they might actually find they like each other, and that will never do.” Branna said this as she too regained her feet.
Annabelle and Ethan ignored her.
“See you at The Howler later, then, Belle,” Branna said, grabbing Annabelle’s hand and giving it a quick squeeze as she passed.
“Okay, sure, see you there.”Damn, damn, damn,she didn’t want to go out tonight, not when inside her there was a war going on between self-pity and rage. Not to mention the fact that she didn’t want to spend any of the money she’d made for her car. That was needed to make mortgage payments and pay bills, and have a backup should she need it—not that there would be much left after the bills had been paid.
Minutes later, after saying their goodbyes, they were in Declan’s car and driving out of Jake’s driveway.
“Weather’s starting to cool.” Declan gave a final wave as they turned onto the road at the bottom of the drive.
“Yup, time to stock up my wood pile, I’m thinking.”
The town of Lake Howling, Oregon had its small population scattered amongst the redwoods and around one side of the lake. Most were grouped in a few streets; the rest were scattered up drives, tucked back from the road. Being born and raised here, Annabelle might have been biased, but she believed it was the most beautiful place on earth. During the tourist season, the place was busy with people wanting to trek through the trees or play out on the water. It even smelled right here. Fresh and healthy. You inhaled and got only air, not pollution or exhaust fumes. The best part of the scenery was the clear waters of their lake and the distant mountain ranges topped with snow. The redwoods stood on sentry duty as they had forever, watching over the town.
“Are you alright, Annabelle?”
Drawing her eyes from the glittering waters, she looked at the man driving. He was only about 16 years older than she was, even though he was Branna’s father, and he was good looking, with that pale, soft Irish complexion and mass of black hair that his daughter also had.
“Of course. Tired, but happy to be home. I always feel that way. Sometimes I’m desperate to leave here, but when I do, I always want to come home again.”
“And now you have no car to leave should you wish to.”
He was a watcher, Declan O’Donnell. He stood back and observed. He was quietly spoken, insightful, and if anyone would notice Annabelle wasn’t herself, it would be him.
“True, but I can use the money and save for another one.”
