You Betrayed Me (The Cahills #3) - Lisa Jackson Page 0,116

Sophia, don’t come.”

The horrid words rang in her ears as she started her car and backed out of her parking slot at the apartment building.

Don’t come? He was rejecting her?

“Ridiculous,” she muttered, her breath fogging in the frigid interior. As she turned the heat on full blast, she caught a movement in the unit that sat catty-corner from her own, the larger apartment that jutted out to form an L around the edge of the parking lot: the owner’s unit. The curtains were open, lights on, yapping, piece-of-shit dog standing at attention, flashing his teeth on the back of Phoebe Matrix’s couch.

As ever.

The landlady was a busybody and a pain in the ass. Watching. Always watching. And even showing up at James’s inn. Once when Sophia was tending the counter in the Christmas shop attached to the café, Phoebe had the nerve to come in and purchase little snow booties for the dog. All the while she’d been in the shop, she’d lingered, the cur in his hand-knit sweater under her arm as she’d fingered several tree ornaments, perused the Christmas cards, and touched a festive display of a miniature town complete with a tiny train that actually circled the small houses on a perfect little track. Of course, she’d kept an eye on Sophia, even asking a coworker about her.

As if the old bat knew what Sophia was up to.

She’d even tried to chat with Sophia at the register, her purse flopping open as she’d counted out the exact change. Sophia had gained a glimpse inside: tissues, lipstick, notepad, rain bonnet, and EpiPen; a glasses case was visible for just a second.

Driving away from the apartment building, Sophia shoved the nosy old woman out of her mind, at least for the moment. The old busybody could be dealt with later. Right now, Sophia had more important things to think about: specifically, James. What the hell was he thinking?

Her gloved hands tightened over the wheel.

She knew James wanted her.

Had always known.

From the first time they’d met.

But other people always seemed to get in the way, she thought sourly as she drove out of town, her windshield still showing spots of ice, her wipers scraping as they batted at the ever-falling snow, her once-broken toe starting to throb from the too-tight boots. She should have worn the suede ones, but these were sexier, and James would appreciate the effort—he always did.

A song was playing on the radio, some Christmas oldie that reminded her of growing up as a lonely child in Fresno, but she refused to think about that now.

“No, Sophia, don’t come.”

“Like hell,” she ground out as she buzzed through town, gunning the vehicle as a light turned amber. Her phone jangled, and she saw that it was Donna, her boss at the inn, probably calling her to come to the bar and fill in. Well, forget that. She ignored the call. Didn’t pick up.

She had to keep her thoughts straight, make sure she didn’t trip up. James was wavering. She could feel it, and that just couldn’t happen. She blew out a breath. Right now, it seemed as if everyone was against her, creating roadblocks. At work, she caught the sidelong glances. Both Zena and Donna were watching her as she mixed drinks. She caught them staring, and that miserable foreman, Knowlton, wasn’t her friend, either. She’d seen the way his eyes tracked her, and it wasn’t in the usual appraising way of so many men. Nope, he was suspicious.

And then there was Rebecca Travers.

She punched the gas, and her car slid a bit at the nearest corner, just at the edge of town. The trouble was that James was definitely intrigued with Megan’s sister, and that was a problem. A serious problem. Worse yet, it seemed as if Rebecca was interested in James as well. Really? Even though he’d dumped her for Megan and was probably the prime suspect in Megan’s disappearance. Still, she wanted him? What was wrong with her? Was she too playing a secret game? Well, if so, it had to end, and fast. Her eyes narrowed as the interior of the Escape finally started to warm.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the rearview mirror, strands of blond hair wisping from beneath her cap. It was then she realized she hadn’t been as careful with her makeup as usual, had used less mascara than usual, and no blush, and she’d lost her favorite tube of lipstick. She’d even forgotten to make certain her