Page 5 of Falling for Her

“Should be by tomorrow for sure,” Collins replies. “I know she’s driving down. She wasn’t sure if she was stopping along the way.”

“Okay, I’ll keep you posted on what I decide. Thanks, Collins.”

“No worries. Good luck with the interviews.”

Theo hangs up the phone, and I look at him. “What do you know about this girl?” I ask him, and he shrugs.

“She’s friends with Collins, so that should mean something.”

“Collins is friendly with everyone,” I point out. “I mean, not to say anything bad but⁠—”

He holds up his hand to stop me. “I know they are part of this online group. I think it’s about crime podcasts or whatever, so there’s that. I’ve met her via FaceTime a whole bunch of times, and she seemed really nice.”

“So did Ted Bundy,” I remind him, and then we both hear a car door being slammed. “That’s my interview.”

“Let me know if you want me to do any more work. I checked everything, and it’s all good to go.” I follow him out of the garage, and there’s a woman walking up the driveway. They pass each other, and Theo nods to her, but she doesn’t notice him, or she’s too focused on me. Her salt-and-pepper hair is cut short in a bob and curled under. She smiles at me as she walks closer.

“Hello.” I hold up my hand. “Are you Mrs. Larue?”

She just smiles as she stops in front of me. “Are you Burke?” she asks after a moment.

“I am,” I confirm. “You must be Mrs. Larue?” I say again, holding out my hand to shake hers.

“Oh my, I can’t really hear out of this ear.” She points to her left ear. “And this one is getting fuzzier.” She points to her right ear. “Now, where is this little boy? Oh!” She starts toward one of the cherub statues in the garden. “Hello, little one, what’s your name?” she calls. “Tell Mrs. Larue what your favorite food is, and we’ll make it together.”

“Um,” I start.

She turns back to me and smiles big. “He’s not too talkative, is he? So, when do I start?”

I hesitate and then smile. “I’ll have to get back to you. I have to speak to Asa’s mother.” I hold out my arm to walk her to her car. She drives away, almost hitting a parked car on the side of the street. I say a silent prayer while I take my phone out and text Theo. Maybe it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Me:

Ask Collins to see if her friend is interested in being Asa’s nanny.

CHAPTER TWO

FINLEY

All four windows are down in my SUV, the wind flying in as I zoom down the highway. The GPS tells me I’m going to reach my destination in thirty-two minutes. My hand grips the steering wheel as I sing “You can dance, you can jive” at the top of my lungs, like I’m onstage and singing to a sold-out stadium of forty thousand people, with a fan blowing the wind through my hair.

I pass the town sign: Montgavin. I let out a little sigh of relief, but then the feeling of anxiousness comes rushing to me, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. I look down and see I’m going twenty miles over the speed limit. I take my foot off the gas at the same time a black truck turns behind me. I check the rearview mirror, seeing the guy behind the wheel.

“Fuck.” I check the side mirror, then my rearview mirror. “Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit.” I catch my reflection in the mirror. I look a little run-down, to say the very least. My blonde hair is too tousled from the way the wind was whipping it around. I have bags under my eyes from not sleeping the last couple of nights. I drove until I couldn’t keep my eyes open, grabbing the first motel I could find. It smelled of stale smoke.

“It’s going to be okay.” My hands grip the steering wheel tighter. “It’s fine. It’ll be a ticket, and then they will let you go.” I look in the rearview mirror again. He’s wearing aviator sunglasses, both hands on the steering wheel. “Holy shit, he looks like the Terminator.”

The female voice of my GPS interrupts the music. “In two hundred feet, turn right.”

I turn my blinker on before looking in the rearview mirror to see if he’s also going to put on his turn signal.

“If I don’t get this ticket,” I vow to the universe, “I promise I will not speed ever again.” I shake my head as soon as I say that. “I mean, I promise I will not speed when I don’t have to speed. Like if it’s a leisurely drive, I won’t speed, but if I’m late and I have basically no choice”—I have to speed things up again—“but I won’t do it as much as I did before.” I slow down and turn onto the right street. “Okay, moment of truth.” I inhale and hold my breath, then see that no one is behind me. “Yesss!” I sing out. I take a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure that I’m really not being followed. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I shimmy my ass in the seat. “It’s a great day. It’s finally a great fucking day.”

The road leads me down to the town and the hustle and bustle of people coming and going. The shops are nothing like back home, where it was all small, high-end boutiques and cars honking for you to get out of the way or to tell you that you’re an asshole. No, this is pure small-town charm. One storefront is a hairdresser, and you know it’s a hairdresser because they have pictures of hairstyles in the window. Right next door is a “corner store.” I don’t even know what they sell in there, but it looks like a mishmash of things. Their window displays cleaning supplies on one side and bedding on the other.

Turning my head to the other side of the street, I see small, pink iron tables in front of a bakery called Maddie’s. The pink script on the window with three cupcakes under it is charming, just like the rest of the town. “That is probably a coffee shop too,” I mumble to myself. I look for a parking spot and pull into one between two cars. It takes me four tries to parallel park this big SUV; I’m still getting used to it. After the fourth attempt, I just let it be. I’m sticking out on the side, and my front is more out than my back. “C’est la vie,” I say to myself.

My legs are cramped from sitting for so long, so I bend my right leg, then my left, before taking the first full step forward. I look around to see people walking down the street and smiling at each other, and I silently laugh to myself, “Am I in The Truman Show?” At least I blend in, in my cutoff blue jean shorts and a light-pink tank top. Back home, I would never be seen wearing these clothes, not even in the house by myself. My new wardrobe is courtesy of the store I stopped in after I left. My long legs are toned and tanned, thanks to hours and hours of Pilates, my trainer, and a special blend of self-tanner spray I typically get weekly.