She wouldn’t run again. If she believed in fate.
“We’ll give him two minutes, from now, to regain some composure and leave. If he doesn’t, we’ll go out again.”
But this time, she determined, her weapon would be in her hand, not in her holster.
As she meant it literally, she set the timer on her watch, and continued to observe him on the monitor.
His blood pressure must be at dangerous levels, she thought, as his face darkened, his eyes literally bulged. She could see the rapid rise and fall of his prosperous chest as he shouted at his assistant.
She hoped she wouldn’t have to call for medical assistance as well as the authorities.
All she wanted to do was finish her work and spend a little time working in her gardens. This man’s difficulties weren’t hers.
At the one-minute, forty-two-second mark, Blake stormed back to the car. Abigail let out a small sigh of relief as the assistant made the three-quarter turn and drove away.
All these years, she thought. Was it irony she was once again a witness to a crime, and once again the subject of threats and intimidation?
No, she didn’t believe in fate, and yet…it certainly felt as though fate had decided to twist her life, and circle it right back to where she’d begun.
It was something to think about.
She looked at her work, sighed again.
“I think we’ll take a walk,” she said to Bert. “I’m too annoyed to work right now.”
Her mood leveled out in the air, calmed when she walked through the trees, studied the progress of wildflowers, considered again her private seating area with its view of the hills. She would start a search for the proper bench very soon.
She felt…happy, she realized, when she received a text from Brooks.
How about I pick up some Chinese? Don’t cook. You’re probably tired.
She considered, texted back.
I’m not tired, but I like Chinese food. Thankyou.
Moments later, she got another text.
You’re welcome.
It made her laugh, picked up her mood a few more notches. Since she was already out, she gave Bert a full hour of exercise, then went back home to work with a clear mind.
She lost track of time, a rarity for her, and was prepared to be annoyed when her alarm beeped again. If that disagreeable man had come back, she wouldn’t be so polite, she determined.
Her mood shifted yet again when she saw Brooks’s cruiser. A check of the time showed her she’d worked past six.
No gardening today, she thought, and put the lack of that pleasure on the head of the disagreeable man and his stony-faced assistant.
But she shut down and went to the door happy—again—at the prospect of having dinner with Brooks.
Her smile of greeting turned to concern when she saw his face.
“You didn’t sleep.”
“We had a lot going on.”
“You look very tired. Here, let me take some of that. You brought a great deal of food for two people.”
“You know what they say about Chinese food.”
