“I’m getting a taxi home,” I said between clenched teeth.
“No.”
“Then, I’m sleeping on the couch.”
“No.”
Great. We were going to go through this rigmarole again.
“I’m sleeping on the other side of the bed.”
“No.”
“You’re an ass**le.”
“Maybe.”
Shit.
Lee settled in, tucked my back to his front, his arm wrapped around my waist.
I laid there wondering if I should flip over, knee him in the ‘nads and take off.
Then, for some reason, the vision of Tim floated into my head and my body started trembling, like, a lot. Full-on human earthquake.
“Shit,” I whispered and Lee turned me to facing him and wrapped both his arms around me, tight.
I pressed into his warmth and tried not to cry.
“Did you know him?” Lee asked softly.
“No.” My voice sounded shaky, even on that one word. I took in a big, broken breath. “Though, I think he’d come into the store every once in awhile.” I took another breath to control the threatening tears. “It’s an ugly way to go. What are his parents gonna think?”
Lee started stroking my back and he didn’t answer, likely because he had no idea what Tim’s parents would think and didn’t want to dwell on it.
Lee started to play with my hair and I pressed my face into his neck. His body was hard and warm and I could hear his steady breathing. His hand at my hair relaxed me and his arm around my waist made me feel safe.
After awhile, I fell asleep.
Chapter Eight
He Doesn’t Like Nixon Much
I woke up in Lee’s bed, but this time, no Lee.
I didn’t have enough mental capacity to wonder where he was and certainly not enough to process my sense of disappointment. I told myself there should be no disappointment at the absence of a man who would handcuff me to his bed against my will, so I shoved it aside.
It was twenty past six and I decided when I had all that time to think when I was handcuffed to the bed that Fortnum’s was going to close for the weekend.
Sometimes it was good being the boss.
Truth was, working there wasn’t tough. There were four of us, five when Ally was around which was most of the time. We were open seven thirty to six on weekdays, eight thirty to six on Saturdays and ten to four on Sundays. Outside of the morning rush, most of that time was spent hanging around. We all came and went when we pleased.
With two staff down, it was beginning to seem like work. With me and Ally gallivanting across town looking for Rosie, Jane was taking the burden.
I didn’t make shifts or assign hours, everyone worked whenever they wanted, which was pretty much seven days a week, give or take a couple hours here or there to run errands, go to lunch with a friend, go shopping at Cherry Creek Mall, come in late if you were sleeping it off, leave early whenever or to tie one on at Lincoln’s Road House, the local biker bar. People took days off whenever they wanted and no one did more than the others. Gram had set the precedent. We all pitched in and, somehow, it worked.
I needed a break after the last couple of days and I was sure Ally and Jane needed one too. Hopefully, by Monday, now that the police were involved, this would be sorted and all would be back to normal. That was to say, normal with Duke back and normal as it would ever be.