Blue Ridge Hideaway. Cynthia Thomason

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      CHAPTER FOUR

      DORIE USED A thick slice of bread to soak up the last of the gravy in the bottom of her bowl. “This came out of a can?” she said when she realized Bret was staring at her, an amused expression on his face. Let him laugh if he wanted to. It wasn’t a crime to be hungry.

      “Sure did. Got it at the big box store in Asheville the last time I went for supplies.

      “Well, it’s good.”

      The wine was good, too. Dorie had been surprised when Bret had brought out the bottle and two glasses. She’d smiled at the images of moose on the tumblers—the glasses were definitely more suited to iced tea or, as in Clancy’s case, a frothy serving of Guinness.

      Bret held the bottle over Dorie’s glass, but she covered the opening with her hand. “No more for me. I need a clear head to deal with the Donovan men.”

      He added an inch or two to his own glass. “Oh, come on. You don’t think we’re all that scary, do you?”

      “No, I guess not.” But this place is. She stared out the window to the exterior of the porch where a single exposed lightbulb attracted hardy insects not burrowed in somewhere against the cold. Beyond the porch, the woods were black. “Does it always get so dark up here?” she asked.

      “On this side of the mountain, yes. On the other side, the direction the sun sets, it stays lighter a bit longer. But this is the country. We don’t exactly have streetlights on every corner. We don’t even have corners.”

      She definitely wasn’t used to outdoor living of this magnitude. Living so close to the beach when she was growing up, Dorie had gone to the ocean nearly every day, but then her mother had run off, and at eighteen, Dorie had suddenly been in charge. Her beach visits had become less frequent. The brief note her mom had left saying she was sorry, and they’d be better off without her hadn’t excused her abandonment in Dorie’s mind.

      But the small wood-framed cottage her mother had purchased for the family worked just fine for Dorie and Jack and, amazingly, had been paid off a couple of years before Linda Howe’s departure. Dorie had had to borrow against the house on a couple of occasions, and she’d only been late on her loan payments a few times. Though built in the fifties, the bungalow was Dorie’s pride. The house wouldn’t last forever in the punishing sea air, but she kept the appliances up and regularly painted and repaired what needed attention. And she enjoyed the lights that illuminated her street every night.

      She casually stretched to cover any sign that the darkness bothered her. Then she picked up her bowl and glass and headed toward the kitchen.

      Bret rose and took the dishes from her. “I’ll take care of this.” Glancing at Clancy, he said, “On second thought, Pop, the least you can do is clean up.”

      “I suppose I could.” Clancy stacked the dishes and went into the kitchen.

      Dorie put on her jacket. She didn’t look forward to going outside in the cold but she needed a bag from her truck. Luckily she’d packed a change of clothes and a few grooming products just in case.

      Bret gave her a quizzical look. “Where are you going? I thought we’d decided you’d stay here. I really don’t think you should drive on that road tonight.”

      She almost smiled. “Worried about me, junior?”

      “I’d worry about anyone foolish enough to attempt that narrow path in conditions like these.”

      “Well, don’t be. I’m not going anywhere. Despite your announcement of a possible plan, we didn’t actually come up with a solution that works for me.” She fumbled with her zipper. “But a girl can only carry so much in her pocket. Mine was used for mace, so I have to get my toothbrush out of my truck.”

      “Want me to go with you?”

      “You’re offering to escort me a few feet out your door? I don’t think so, junior. I’m not afraid of a few fireflies.” Lies, all lies. In Dorie’s mind there could be plenty of larger creatures out there that would scare the daylights out of her.

      “Leave the door open and yell out if you need me.” He covered her hand with his and helped yank the stubborn zipper to her neck. When the pulse in her wrist quickened, she pulled her hand free.

      “I’m glad you’re staying,” he said.

      “Yeah, СКАЧАТЬ