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He reached for her hand, and Holly shifted her focus toward his long fingers intertwining with hers.
“I’ll never forget the look in my wife’s eyes right before she died,” he added.
Holly lifted her gaze to meet Clint’s. “I thought you found her in the morning.”
Clint’s brows furrowed in confusion. “How did you know that?”
Holly felt her face flush. How could she explain without admitting that she and Laurie had been talking about it? Clint’s eyes searched hers, waiting for her answer.
“Laurie told me about your wife’s death.”
Clint’s expression darkened as he pulled his hand free from hers.
“Sorry.” Holly cringed. “It’s none of my business.”
Clint pressed his lips into a thin line, exhaling sharply through his nose. “I should go.”
Her heart sank at his words. She didn’t want him to leave, but she also didn’t want to make things worse.
“I’m sorry,” Holly repeated, following Clint to the door.
“Goodnight,” he said after stepping outside, his voice clipped and low.
Holly held back a second apology as he started for his house, hating herself for being so careless with her words. “Goodnight.”
After closing the door, she leaned her forehead against it. “Shit.”
She turned for the kitchen and took a drink from the wine Clint had poured her, gazing out the window toward Clint’s house as she tried to calm her racing thoughts. She set down her glass and spotted Jared’s note on the counter with the stack of mail, reminded that she had bigger problems than her love life. She took another drink, then headed back to the front door to turn the deadbolt before going upstairs.
She tried to let herself feel reassured by Andy’s words.Jared doesn’t know where I am. He’s just trying to scare me.But she couldn’t let him get under her skin.I’m safe,she tried to convince herself. She had to stay strong.
She glanced in the direction of Clint’s house one last time before going into her office. She’d apologize to Clint again tomorrow. Hopefully, he would forgive her nosiness.
In the meantime, she would write until exhaustion claimed her.
***
Holly woke with her forehead stuck to her arm and the memory of Clint’s mouth on hers. Her recall of Clint’s kiss gave way to a sinking dread as the events that followed came rushing back. She sat up in the desk chair, squinting from the morning light coming through the window. She wiped the drool from the side of her mouth and checked her watch. It was after ten.
What time had it been when she’d finally fallen asleep? She’d written three chapters, and it had been dark out for several hours when she’d closed her eyes for what was supposed to be only a few minutes. She stood and stretched her arms overhead before going downstairs to brew a pot of coffee.
Her gaze lingered on the front door on her way to the kitchen. She swallowed, remembering Clint leaving last night. She replayed his cold reaction, the way his demeanor darkened the moment he learned she and Laurie had discussed his wife’s death. Holly hadn’t meant any harm—surely Clint knew Laurie had a habit of oversharing. Why had he been so upset?
Grief can do strange things to people, she thought as she entered the kitchen. She, of all people, understood that.
Jared’s threatening poem lay open where she’d left it on top of the stack of mail. Seeing it made her stomach churn. As soon asshe consumed some caffeine, she needed to take it downtown so Andy could have it processed for prints. It would probably be for nothing though. If Jared had been smart enough not to leave any evidence on his first note, he certainly wouldn’t leave his prints on a more threatening one.
She grabbed the empty coffee pot and moved to the sink, deciding to knock on Clint’s door later today. She hadn’t felt this way about anyone since Jared, and she wasn’t going to give up over a misunderstanding. Hopefully, Clint would feel the same way.
She looked out the window as she held the coffee pot under the faucet, spotting a car she didn’t recognize in Clint’s driveway. As she turned on the water, a pretty brunette emerged from Clint’s front door. She appeared to be about thirty, maybe a few years younger. The woman laughed before she hugged someone goodbye who stood just out of sight. His face was blocked by the doorframe, but Holly spotted his familiar plaid sleeve. His hand slid down the woman’s back and lingered on the back pocket of her jeans before letting her go. The woman smiled as she trod down Clint’s porch steps through the rain and hopped into her car.
Holly turned off the faucet, keeping her gaze trained on Clint’s house. His front door closed as the woman sped out of the cul-de-sac. Holly stared out the window. Last night, Clint said that he’d hardly dated since his wife passed. Had he gone home and called an old flame? Or gone out and picked someone up at a bar? Or had he been lying and really had a girlfriend?
Her mind reeled with questions as she finished making coffee in a daze. Minutes later, after filling a mug, she studied Clint’s home. It was a Tuesday. Shouldn’t he be at work?
It doesn’t matter,she thought.Clint is no longer my business.And apparently, he never was. She’d been stupid to think he felt for her the way she had for him. She tore her gaze from thewindow and stared at Jared’s typed note. Picking bad men did run in her family. She used kitchen tongs to place the note into a press-seal plastic bag before heading upstairs to change.
Chapter 32