Page 33 of The Murder Club

“In your yard? Did something happen?” Dorinda scowled, looking ready for a fight. “Was it that Gage Warren? I heard that he attacked you yesterday. On a public street in broad daylight too. That boy has no shame.”

“No, it’s nothing like that.” Bailey hastily attempted to calm her neighbor’s fierce temper. She wouldn’t put it past the older woman to track down Gage and slap his face. “There was a package left on my back porch.”

“Was it damaged?” Dorinda’s anger vanished as she glanced toward the dogs still pleading for her attention. “You might ask these two.” She leaned down to rub their ears. On cue, Bert and Ernie melted into puddles of bliss. “Have you been playing with packages?” she asked the dogs.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Bailey said. “But if you do happen to see anyone hanging around, I would appreciate you letting me know.”

“I’ll be keeping my eyes peeled,” Dorinda promised. “Take care.”

* * *

Dom waited for the door to close behind the neighbor before he turned to study Bailey’s distracted expression.

“That was interesting,” he said as the silence stretched.

She blinked, as if she’d forgotten he was in the room. And maybe she had, he acknowledged, his jaw tightening. She’d neglected to share that she’d been suspended from her job. Okay, she didn’t owe him any explanations. They were barely more than strangers. But it bothered him to accept that she hadn’t felt comfortable telling him what had happened.

As if he needed to be the one she turned to when she’d been hurt.

“More than interesting,” she insisted. “Dorinda has proof that I had nothing to do with convincing Nellie to change her will.”

With an effort, Dom squashed his unreasonable response. This was about Bailey, not his snowballing fascination with her.

“No one needed proof.”

Her jaw tightened. “I was let go from my job.”

He shrugged. “As your neighbor pointed out, they’re idiots.”

“They are, but they wouldn’t be the only ones to think I’d done something sneaky to get that kind of money.”

He reached out to cup her cheek in his palm. “No one who matters.”

“Easy for you to say.”

He stared down at her, shuddering at the memory of being chased down the street by angry neighbors, or being awakened in the middle of the night to sneak out of town.

“Actually, it isn’t easy at all. I spent a lot of years being judged by villagers because of my relationship to Remy.” His voice was harsh when he spoke his father’s name. He wasn’t bitter about his past, but he’d never forgotten the pain his father had caused. “I learned to appreciate the people who took the time to get to know me, instead of leaping to the conclusion I couldn’t be trusted because my last name was Lucier.”

Her expression softened as she sent him a smile of wry regret. “I’m sorry. I’m being silly, aren’t I?” She shook her head. “I have a terrible need to be liked by everyone. My grandmother warned me that it was a losing game. That there were always people out there wanting to think the worst of others.”

He brushed his thumb over the lush curve of her lower lip. “You have a big heart that’s easily wounded. Don’t change because of a few nasty gossips.”

She blushed, as if suddenly realizing how close he was standing. “I’m sorry. I keep interrupting your vacation.”

“It’s never an interruption.” He held her gaze, accepting it was time to take the plunge and confess what had lured him to Pike. “Coming here wasn’t just about getting away from work, but an opportunity to spend time with the new friends I met during Kaden’s wedding.” He paused, his thumb continuing to brush over her lips. “One friend in particular.”

Her lips parted as she sucked in a sharp breath. “Me?”

“Yes, you. I thought about you every day.”

“I . . . you can’t be serious.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not very memorable.”

She eyed him warily. He shouldn’t be surprised, he told himself. He’d arrived in Pike without warning and instantly started to instigate himself into her life. She had to wonder if he was the sort of guy who found a woman in whatever town he happened to be visiting and made her the focus of his attention before moving on.