Someone to Watch Over Me by Helen R. Myers Read Free Book Online

do to feel safe….
    That was a problem she wasn’t about to explain to him.
    She wasn’t sure if she’d ever feel safe again.
     
    Jax watched her all the way, Romeo by his side. She sat in the car for a few minutes before turning on the lights and pulling onto the street.
    “Let’s go to the backyard,” Jax told the dog.
    He headed around the house and climbed the steps to the back porch. He could see old Mrs. Moss’s house from there, waited and watched as the car turned into the driveway, as Gwen got out, opened the door and started flicking on lights in the house. Until she was inside, safe and sound.
    Romeo stood beside him, watching every bit as intently.
    “Wonder what the story is there,” Jax said.
    One thing was certain, it wasn’t the normal reticence a woman would show at the idea of walking down a dark alley in a small town with a man she barely knew. It was fear, pure and simple, the kind that came not in imagining what bad things might happen, but in knowing, firsthand.
    Someone, at some point, had attacked Gwen Moss.
    “You know, Romeo. Some days, life is rotten.”

Chapter Four
    S tanding safely in her own driveway, her car locked, house keys in her hand and ready, Gwen glanced back at Mrs. Cassidy’s house. On the back porch, watching her, stood a tall, shadowy figure. She couldn’t see his face, not at that distance and in the dark, but she was certain it was Jax.
    Was he worried about her? Or simply wondering if she was capable of getting herself home without falling apart?
    Not that it mattered in the least what Jackson Cassidy or any other man thought of her.
    But she was caught up in the idea of him waiting and watching to see that she got safely inside, feeling for a moment like it wasn’t all up to her. That if something happened on her way home, he would have helped her.
    Gwen turned and unlocked the back door. Inside, she punched her code into the security system she’d had installed and then turned on lights. All of them. Gwen liked lights. Bright ones. Especially at night.
    She clicked on the TV, which was usually set to one of the music channels because she didn’t like a completelyquiet house any more than she liked a dark one. It was too easy to hear the normal things that went bump in the night and wonder if they were actually normal or something she should be concerned about.
    So she let the music drown out the little sounds.
    She’d do anything she could to make it easier on herself, and she didn’t care if that made her a coward or weak. She just didn’t care.
    She went into the kitchen, automatically checking to see that everything was in its place, just as she’d left it, reassured to see that it was. Then she made herself a plate with chicken salad and some apple slices, which she ate at the breakfast bar in the kitchen while glancing at a magazine.
    She’d look at the pretty pictures of happy people and try to think about whether her skirts were the right length or whether lemon-colored or chartreuse shirts were going to be in this spring. Not that she cared in the least, but it did keep her mind occupied.
    Sunday loomed, long and lonely, before her. Usually, she went to church in the morning, more out of habit than anything else. Sometimes she shook up her schedule by trying to sleep in, then going to Sunday-evening services. Either way, the day was long.
    Maybe she should join one of the volunteer groups at church. There was one that built or repaired houses for the elderly. That might work. She’d be outside and surrounded by a lot of people. She could whack a nail with a hammer every now and then. That might feel good—to hit something.
    Gwen had that urge from time to time, and it didn’t shock her anymore, the way it had at first. It was simply how she felt, and it wasn’t like she was going to actuallyhurt anyone. She’d be helping, pounding nails into boards in someone’s house.
    Maybe next week she’d find the name and number of the project leader