After She's Gone (West Coast 3) - Page 65

She swatted at a bee that buzzed near her head. “Well, you found me.”

A dark eyebrow cocked, silently asking why else would he be camped out here.

“I thought you were in Oregon on your ranch or . . . whatever.” She glared at him. She didn’t need the aggravation of her husband, make that soon-to-be-ex-husband, this morning.

“I was. Flew down late last night.”

“And . . . what?”

He hitched his chin toward a Ford Explorer parked next to the owner’s garage. “Spent a few hours there. In the rental.”

“You slept in your car?” she asked as she stopped a few feet from him and squinted, trying to read his expression behind the shades. “You could have knocked on the door.”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded, agreeing. So damned affable. All an act. “And you could have not answered. Just like you didn’t respond to my calls and texts.” He stretched to his full height, casting a shadow across the hedge. “This way I figured you’d have to talk to me.”

“I still don’t have to talk to you.”

“I’ll buy coffee.”

“Don’t try to charm me.”

“You’re still pissed.”

“Extremely so. But I don’t have time to discuss it or anything else. I’ve got an appointment at nine.”

“Somewhere close, or . . . ?” He glanced pointedly at her roller bag.

“Hair. With Laura. This is just the first bag I packed for the trip back to—” Hell. Why was she telling him anything?

“To where?”

“Does it matter?”

He shrugged. “Maybe not.”

She checked her watch. “What did you want to say?”

“I want to work things out.”

“What do you mean?” she asked automatically. “No—wait.” She held up a hand. “I’m not in the mood for this.”

“I came down here for you.”

“Come on.” Enough. Tugging on her bag she made her way to the driver’s door of her Honda. She didn’t know what Trent’s game was, if he even had one, but she didn’t have time for it, not now, most likely not ever. “Go to hell.”

“You keep saying that,” he said, infuriatingly unconcerned.

“I really have to go.” She tugged the door open, then tossed her bag into the passenger seat.

“And you’ll be back?”

“For the rest of my things.”

One eyebrow raised. He didn’t believe her.

“You don’t trust me,” she charged, and slid into the driver’s seat.

“I think it’s the other way ’round.”

Tags: Lisa Jackson West Coast Mystery
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