“I’ll see it doesn’t happen again,” he said, still sounding like he was teasing. Then he said, “I promise.”
Startled at the change in tone, I looked up at him. He was no longer teasing, he was very serious.
Before I could react, he deposited me at Hector’s side. Hector lifted his brows at me.
I pulled my lips between my teeth. Hector saw I wasn’t going to share and he sighed.
Thirty minutes later, we left.
It was finally over.
And I survived.
Thank goodness.
Chapter Seven
Okay
Sadie
After Blanca’s dinner, when Hector and I arrived back at the brownstone, my mind was on other things, loads of other things.
Therefore, I didn’t protest when he walked me up to the door, took the keys from my hands, unlocked and opened the door for me and, with his hand on the small of my back again, guided me inside.
Automatically, I turned to the alarm panel and hit the code, flipped the hall light switch then turned back to Hector.
For some bizarre reason, he was looking up the stairs.
Then he looked at me. “Stay here, by the door, until I come back.”
I only had time to blink at him before he was gone, taking the stairs two at a time.
What on earth was he doing?
I did what I was told, standing by the door, feeling like an idiot and he came back.
I opened my mouth to speak but before I uttered a noise, he walked right by me, through the hall, his hand raised, index finger pointed skyward and muttered, “One more minute.”
I stared at his departing back then heard as he walked around downstairs. A light came on in the living room and Hector reappeared. He walked to the end of the hall, opened the door to the powder room, I saw the light go on then off then he came out, closed the door and came back to me.
“Okay,” he said, reached around me, locked the front door then grabbed my hand and pulled me in the living room.
“What was that?” I asked his back.
He stopped and turned to me. Shrugging off his jacket, he threw it on an armchair. “Walkthrough. Making sure no one was here.”
My head did a surprised little shake as I threw my bag on the chair, took off my trench and tossed it on the chair with my bag.
“But,” I reminded him, “the alarm was on.”
He got in close, lifted a hand and while he shifted my hair off my shoulder, he explained, “Can’t be too careful.”
“Oh,” I said because there was nothing else to say and anyway I was recovering from the shifting-the-hair-off-my-shoulder move.
Hector kept looking at me.
What now? What did nice girls do after dinner with their date’s mother and select close friends?