Page 43 of Capturing You

At least Brooklynn was safe at his house, for now.

CHAPTERNINE

As predicted, Brooklynn’s nightmares had been populated with shadowy killers, giant Lord-of-the-Rings-sized spiders, and a creepy Hogwarts-stylecastle, complete with moving staircases and talking portraits.

She’d finally slept a few unbroken hours, then woke after the sun was well over the horizon. After her shower, she dressed in the now clean outfit she’d worn the day before. Though she’d washed a few of the things she’d found in the room, she wasn’t quite ready to wear the garments of a murdered teenager.

The house was quiet as she made her way down the main staircase and into the kitchen. A note on the counter told her Ford had gone shopping.

For some reason, the image of the enigmatic man wandering around the grocery store struck her as amusing. He seemed somehow above all that normal human stuff.

He’d made a pot of coffee and drunk a cup, based on the dirty mug in the sink. He’d left a clean mug and a couple of tea bags on the counter beside the old stovetop teapot.

She filled it with water and put it on the stovetop to boil, then emptied the dishwasher she’d run the night before. The lack of plates and bowls in the sink told her Ford hadn’t eaten before he’d left.

If she had any idea what time he’d be home, she’d fix breakfast for them both. She’d wait a little while before fixing herself something, just in case he was hungry when he returned. Maybe he’d sit and eat with her like he had the night before.

The man was mysterious and secretive. She supposed she should be grateful he’d offered her shelter for the time being, but she wanted more than just shelter. She couldn’t help but be curious.

She could imagine her little sister Cici’s reaction to Brooklynn’s thought.

Curious? The word you’re looking for isnosy.

Cici called it like she saw it.

Brooklynn was scanning the contents of the fridge and pantry when the sound of footsteps reached her.

Fear sent her heart racing. She grabbed a knife from a block on the counter and spun to face her intruder.

Ford stepped in from the dining room, multiple sacks hanging from his hands. When he saw the knife, his eyebrows hiked. One corner of his lips quirked as if he might, eventually, with a little provocation, crack a smile.

“You scared me.”

“Evidently.”

She slid the knife back into its slot as he settled the bags on the counter.

“You’ve been busy.” She peeked at the contents. “Is this everything?”

“One more load. I’ll get it.”

She put the groceries away. Lots of produce, a few boxes of pasta, jars of both marinara and Alfredo sauce. Condiments she’d searched for the day before but hadn’t found. Oatmeal. Eggs, bacon, sausage. Steak, chicken. A roast.

Lemonade, large tea bags for iced tea, and more Earl Gray. Oh, he’d even bought a different black tea. Salted caramel? Sounded yummy.

She smiled at the packages of sliced ham and Gruyère. Apparently, he’d liked the sandwiches she’d made for dinner.

He returned with two twelve-packs of drinks—one cola, one sparkling water—and more sacks hanging from his wrist.

He stowed the cases in the pantry, then handed her the sacks. “I thought you might… I just guessed.” His face turned an amusing shade of pink.

She peeked inside and understood why. He’d bought her a couple of sports bras and underwear.

She couldn’t help imagining him wandering around in the lingerie section.

He must’ve guessed the direction of her thoughts because he grunted. “You said the teen’s clothes were small.”

“This was very thoughtful of you. Thank you.”