Splinters of You (Retired Sinners MC #1) - Anne Malcom Page 0,20

at the sharpness of her tone. There was no bullshit in it.

She took my surprise as a foothold to just barge right in.

I was so shocked that I let her, staring at the basket of muffins she left on the stoop.

There was not much I could do right now unless I wanted to try to remove her bodily from my cottage, and she looked like she could take me in a fight. I sighed, closing the door, leaving the muffins to the bears, or coyotes, or whatever was roaming about in the woods.

She was looking around the room when I turned back to her, a thoughtful look on her face. I expected she’d been in here before because Emily seemed like she was the person to eat muffins with her neighbor.

I waited for Margot to ask me about all of Emily’s belongings, maybe be pissed about it. I hoped she was pissed about it because the only other thing she could do was start crying with all the memories of grief over her dead friend.

But Margot surprised me. It was not often that people did that.

“I’m not sure I like you,” she said, tilting her head as if a different angle might either make her decision easier.

I shrugged to hide the fact this statement made me almost want to like her. “I’m not very likeable.”

She continued to regard me. “Ah, but I think that’s why I’m leaning toward befriending you.”

I stiffened. “I’m not here to make friends.” My voice was short. Terse. As bitchy as I could muster. And I could muster a pretty darn bitchy tone.

Instead of bristle at my bald-faced rudeness, she smiled. Every part of her face moved with that smile, the creases on her tanned face deepening. It aged her, all the smiling and regarding people. But she suited it. With her whole androgynous, Diane Keaton kind of look. She was elegant and masculine, kind of rude and not beautiful. But stunning nonetheless.

Not at all my kind of friend. I liked glossy, flawless, Botox people who didn’t make me think about how broken I was.

“You’re not very popular in town,” she said as she opened my refrigerator, peering in there for a few seconds before emerging with a bottle of rosé, already chilled, replacing it with the one she’d bought. Thought I didn’t really like rosé, I’d bought this as a more acceptable thing to have with my breakfast.

I didn’t get up to help Margot find glasses, she seemed to know her way around. She proved me right, opening a cabinet it had taken me ten minutes to find on my first night. They were nice glasses too. Classy. Emily had large, restaurant quality red wine glasses. Coups for champagne and baby pink rosé glasses which Margot had grabbed.

“Shocker,” I replied as she poured. I wasn’t surprised that Nicole from the supermarket was ready to offer up information on my bitchiness, and Charlie was probably on suicide watch.

“Why didn’t you say yes to the signing?” she asked. No judgment, just curiosity. She walked over to hand me the glass. “It could’ve gone a long way to you making connections in this town.”

I took a sip before I answered, savoring the crisp, sweet liquid. I only usually drank rosé in private. Blood red Cabernet that cost as much as a shitty car was more on brand for me.

“I didn’t want to do it, so I didn’t,” I answered. “Women aren’t usually liked for saying no to shit we don’t want to do. People would rather we contort ourselves into all sorts of painful emotional shapes and situations in order to suit what they expect from us.” I shrugged. “Plenty of people hate me for perfectly legitimate reasons. I’m not easy to like, but I am pretty easy to hate. And that’s fine with me. I spent a lot of my life hating myself, there’s plenty of material there. But the thing that made me stop hating myself was stop doing things I didn’t want to do so people would like me. So, I said no to the signing.”

She looked at me over the top of her wine glass, with that penetrating, knowing gaze only a small number of people in this world had perfected.

“Ah, I have finally decided that I do like you,” she said after a long pause.

I smiled. “That won’t last for long.”

She smiled back. Wiser than mine, I was sure. Sharper. Definitely kinder. I might be able to grow the first two of those