“So, you’re not coming over later?”
His phone lay on his desk. He’d called her from it earlier. He didn’t deserve her number. She might have to burn his house down to get rid of the paper evidence of her folly, but she could delete her damn number. She grabbed the phone. James didn’t try to stop her. In her peripheral vision, his brows furrowed. He had one of those giant phones and it was password protected. A rumble formed in her throat. This was impossible.
She stomped toward the door. “I’ll expect the check by the end of next week, otherwise, I’ll contact my lawyers.”
“Certainly.”
“Don’t call me unless it’s business.”
She threw the phone in the trash and flung the office door open. A sea of faces greeted her.
Ryan and another security guard pressed their lips into thin lines. Ryan extended a hand to take her bag. Walter broke free and made a gesture with his hands as if inviting her for a hug. So many familiar faces. She had no idea what they might have overheard, but given the number of people who reddened and looked at the floor when she met their gazes, her foolish dalliance wasn’t a secret.
Shuffling from inside the office alerted her to movement. A head turn confirmed James was walking toward the door, probably to lambast security for not escorting her out quickly enough. All these faces. If her reputation was going to be shot, at least she had one arrow still in the quiver. A grin spread across her face as she stepped away from the office door and handed Ryan one bag and Walter another.
“One more thing, Mr. Fordham, that stupid Kanji tattoo that you think means success? It really means thong. I know. I painted it many times as part of a million-dollar project for a Japanese lingerie magnate.”
Chapter 11
Laughter welcomed Claire’s ears long before she reached Jo’s front doorbell. After a few seconds, her friend swung open the door.
“Monster battle!” The deep voice didn’t come from her friend, which was good. She didn’t need to add possible demon possession to her worry list.
“Kevin’s therapist is here.”
“I’m going to get you!”
“Not if I get you with my monster claws first!” That was Kevin.
“They sound like they’re having way too much fun.”
“They’re making a ruckus. You look upset. Let’s sit on the watermelon where it’s calmer.”
To the right of the door, the porch swing hung lower than a standard swing, making it easier for Kevin to climb aboard and test his vestibular system. The current combination of paint, cushions and fabric turned the swing into a slice of watermelon. Claire dug her fingers into the black fake fur seeds.
“Kevin does that all the time. I’ve replaced his favorite seed twice already.”
“I can see why. The dark color absorbs the warmth, making it seem alive like a cat.”
“Or a Guinea pig. Remember Winnie?”
“She was such a snuggler. I really appreciated having her for a few days after Mom and Grandma died.”
“Until my sister called the police to report a missing Guinea pig. What a mess. Dylan thinks Kevin might benefit from a companion animal, but I’m not sure I’m ready for the emotional investment of a pet.”
“Meanwhile, I’m emotionally ready, but travel too much. What if I get the Guinea pig and Kevin babysits when I’m out of town?”
Jo shot her a side-eye smirk, which, as it had since elementary school, made Claire laugh and then made Jo laugh. She brushed her hand across her face before poking Claire in the arm. “Enough about animals. You’re upset. What’s wrong.”
“The idiot in charge cancelled the holiday trains.”
“What? He can’t—”
“He can, so long as the company pays a break-contract fee. It gets worse.” Claire dug her fingers deep in the fur and stared at her kneecaps. They weren’t interesting, but they kept her from making eye contact.
“How?” Jo’s breathing had grown loud. The comradery of outrage helped assuage the nausea Claire felt.
“I didn’t do my due diligence and I made a bad decision out of my mother’s playbook.”
Jo wrapped an arm around her back and leaned her head against Claire’s. Her warm breath tickled.
“We’ll get you help. Dylan might have some connections to rehab— “
“What?” Claire sat upright, her body rigid. “I would never do drugs. Am I that erratic? No, I meant the other.” She slumped into ball form. “I slept with him, before I knew who he was.”
“Oh, Claire.” Jo rubbed circles on her back. “Was it the diner guy, Fordham? I heard a rumor your wagon was in front of his house. I should have warned you, but I failed you. I didn’t think. He’s a stick in the mud, you know.”
“Now I know, but that wasn’t the impression I got before. I thought he was an engineer. Harmless. Bored. A little lonely.”
“He’s a good tipper, but a bit of a jerk. He doesn’t talk to people—even if they initiate conversation. I guess that’s why I didn’t say anything. I assumed he wouldn’t.”
“He talked with me. He seemed fun, curious. I was so wrong.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. We all make bad decisions from time to time. Heck – mine lasted two years of marriage, so you’re smarter than me.”
“Ha,” she deadpanned as she glanced at Jo’s sympathetic expression. “Impossible.”
“He wasn’t worth your time and it sounds like there isn’t even a relationship to grieve. He’s not worthy of your thoughts.”
The front door squeaked, and a giant tumbled out. “There you are. Kevin and I thought you were playing hide and seek but forgot to tell us. I see you have a friend. I’m Dylan. Dylan Smyth.”
The guy looked like a burly, bearded lumberjack that accidently grabbed a golfer’s shirt and plaid pants by mistake. He extended a blue claw as Kevin rushed through the door.
Claire hesitated at the big fabric claw.
“Oh sorry.” He popped it off and Claire shook his hand. Kevin snuck out from behind Dylan and then bounced into the swing beside
