Bones and Roses by Eileen; Goudge Read Free Book Online Page B

wine—a Chateau Lafleur Burgundy, I note with approval—before sinking down on the sofa. A remote control device sits on the glass-and-wrought-iron coffee table; he picks it up and, with the push of a button, we have a nice fire flickering in the gas fireplace. “Feeling any better?” he inquires after I’ve taken a few sips of my tea.
    â€œWhy are you being so nice?” I blurt.
    â€œSomething tells me walking in on a strange man getting out of the shower wasn’t the worst thing that happened to you today.”
    â€œYou got that right,” I reply with a grimace.
    â€œIf you feel like talking about it, I’m a good listener.”
    I’m sure he’s only being polite, so I demur. “Trust me, you don’t want to know. Let’s just say I’m not in the habit of walking in on strange men getting out of the shower. You caught me by surprise.”
    â€œNext time you could try knocking,” he says lightly.
    â€œI thought you were an intruder!”
    â€œI see. So you were expecting monogrammed luggage and an entourage?” He chuckles at the notion. “Well, no harm done.”
    â€œTo you. But your mom will kill me when she finds out I broke her vase.” It was one of the expensive crystal ones, too.
    â€œNo, she won’t.”
    â€œEasy for you to say.” At the sharpness of my tone, I wince inwardly. God, what’s wrong with me?
    â€œIf she notices it’s missing, I’ll tell her I broke it,” he replies calmly.
    â€œYou would do that?” I stare at him in astonishment.
    He shrugs. “Accidents happen.”
    â€œI owe you big time, in that case.”
    â€œYou don’t owe me a thing. Just promise to go easy on me next time.” His wry gaze drops to my throwing arm.
    â€œI used to get hit on a lot in bars,” I explain, hinting at why I don’t drink—one reason, anyway. “Some guys won’t take no for an answer. You have to be more forceful in getting the message across.”
    He breaks into a grin. “I pity the poor slobs.”
    â€œLuckily you have quicker reflexes than they did.”
    â€œWhere I just came from, if you don’t duck when you see something coming, you’re likely to go home in a coffin.” I feel the blood drain from my face at the gruesome image that surfaces in my mind of my mom’s remains. Bradley peers at me with concern. “Hey, are you okay?”
    I have no choice then but to tell him. About my mother turning up dead after all these years and my subsequent questioning by the cops. “All this time we thought she was off living her life in some other place. You know, the life she would’ve had if she hadn’t gotten married or had kids.” I choke up and wipe my tear-filled eyes, apologizing, “I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”
    His expression is a mixture of shock and sympathy. “Who wouldn’t be? Jesus. What are you even doing here? You should be home taking it easy.”
    â€œGood question. I guess I wasn’t thinking too clearly. But you’re absolutely right, and I’ve imposed on you long enough.” I start to get up, and he seizes my arm, pulling me back down. His grip on my elbow suffuses my whole body with warmth. I feel like I’m sinking into a warm bath.
    â€œYou’re not going anywhere. You’re in no shape to drive.”
    â€œBeen a while since I’ve heard that one. Never mind,” I say at the questioning look he gives me. He doesn’t need to know about all the times I had my car keys confiscated by conscientious bartenders.
    â€œI’d give you a ride,” he says, “but I probably shouldn’t risk it, either.” He indicates his empty wineglass. “Why don’t you stay for supper? I’m sure we can rustle up something to eat.” He adds, with a smile, when I don’t answer right away, “I promise you’re safe