FIVE
CALDER
Idon’t sleep at all after dropping Imogen off at her run down little cabin. My thoughts are racing, a total mess because I can’t believe I actually told her my suspicions.
And I can’t believe she didn’t shut them down immediately.
Maybe she’s not a total stick in the mud after all.
Or maybe I’m just an idiot overthinking things.
I sigh as I pull into her driveway. It’s pitch black outside, the rain not stopping any time soon. The thought of her walking in this makes me…angry. It’s a strange feeling, the swell of emotion rising within me. It takes a lot to get me angry, but here I am. Angered over the thought that she could have gotten hurt walking to work or worse, all because her car shit itself.
I’m barely idling in the driveway for a second before she darts out from the cabin. Imogen holds something above her head as she rushes down a path cutting through the front yard. I half expect her to dodge the truck and try her luck walking. I should never have brought up Iris playing matchmaker. It was dumb as hell.
And yet, Imogen throws the passenger door open and slides in with a huff, dropping her bag and sitting back. Cold air rushes through the truck, the smell of rain heavy on the wind.
“Morning, trouble,” I say, cranking the heat as soon as the door closes. She shudders, arms crossed.
Dark eyes flicker to mine. “Morning,” she mutters.
I smirk. “Don’t tell me: you haven’t had your morning coffee.”
If looks could kill, I’d be bones drying in the desert. Now, I understand better than most the importance of coffee. Unlike my twin, who rolls out of bed grumpy and remains it the whole day—coffee or not—I need a good cup of it before I start the day. I’m not my charming self without it. And the ladies of the family rely on it, too.
I drum my fingers against the steering wheel, watching Imogen closely. Her lips purse, forming a firm line. I don’t flinch, and I certainly don’t back off. I could just pull out and drive her to work without another word, but my heart races with the anticipation of getting under her skin.
After a moment, Imogen sighs and buckles herself in. “My coffee maker died,” she mutters, leaning her head back against the seat. “So, no, I havenothad my morning cup. And I don’t want to talk about it.”
I chuckle lightly to myself and finally pull away from her cabin. In the darkness, the building is even more eery. It gives me a bad feeling, knowing she’s here alone.
I know better than to voice it, though.
“Tomorrow, I’ll make you one,” I promise. “Nothing ‘round here will be open now.”
I can feel her stare burning the side of my head. “Who said you were picking me up tomorrow?”
I glance at her, smiling. “Sorry, trouble. But until this funeral is planned, you’re stuck with me.”
That promise shouldn’t have me so excited. I can’t help but love the way her eyes narrow, the crinkle of her nose as shewatches me. It’s too damn easy. And I know, I’m going to have fun with this one.
The day drags on,each chore taking longer than the last. I know Casper senses something is off, but like the good brother he is, he doesn’t question it.
When my cell pings with the alarm to go pick Imogen up after her shift, my heart skips a beat. I barely look at Casper when I leave, jumping in my truck and heading into town.
Her perfume clings to the passenger seat. I hadn’t noticed it over the rain, but it’s so subtle now. Light. Not overwhelming like a lot of perfume can be. It’s sweet like vanilla, but there’s a hint of something richer in there. Like tobacco.
I shake my head, pulling into the parking lot. It doesn’t take long for Imogen to appear, her hair no longer in the neat bun she had it in when I picked her up. It falls in long, loose waves down to her collarbone, thick and dark. She runs a hand through it as she approaches the truck, her eyes shifting between me and the dark sky.
When she opens the door, she says, “I could have gotten home on my own.”
I glance out the windshield at the oncoming storm. “Sure, trouble,” I reply, smirking as she slides into the truck. “But after what happened last night? I doubt you’d try.”
A flush darkens her already rosy cheeks. Sweat dampens her hairline, strands of dark hair framing her face. Her scrubs today are a deep purple with little moons all over them.
After a moment, Imogen shakes her head. “Any reason why we’re still idling here?” She looks at me, her own lips twisting into a smirk. “I have places to be.”
I raise a brow as I pull out of my parking space and head towards open road. “Do you, now?”
