Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
More messages follow in quick succession.
Jigsaw: Took him to see apartment. Likes it.
Jigsaw: Taking him shopping for some stuff.
Jigsaw: Can I stop by later?
Jigsaw: You okay?
Jigsaw: Margot? I’m worried about you.
A sad smile tugs at my lips.
Now you know how I feel when you disappear without a word.
I don’t have the energy to be petty by making him wait and worry any longer. Not tonight. Not with him.
Me: I’m okay. Went to movies with April. Forgot my phone was on silent.
He responds right away.
Jigsaw: Worried about you.
It’s only getting later, and I just want to go home. I start the car and pull out of the small parking lot. My headlights sweep over shuttered shops and quiet sidewalks. I take it slow through the narrow streets.
I need to look up Daniel’s story online when I get home.
Did he make bail?
What else do they have on him?
Will this hurt the business? Ouch, that’s selfish. But I can’t help it. Any suggestion that my father was involved or knew what Daniel was up to could ruin our reputation.
By the time I pull into the parking lot behind our home, I’m eager to get inside and jump on my laptop. The garage door rolls up and the overhead light fills the space with a bright, warm glow but it doesn’t do a thing to chase away the dark thoughts that followed me home.
I hit the button to lower the garage door, the motor humming behind me as I cross the lot. My heels tap out a steady rhythm on the pavement, sharp and out of place in the quiet.
A figure shifts near the porch, slipping from shadow into the harsh yellow light as the motion sensor clicks on. Floodlights flare to life, catching the edges of a leather jacket, the outline of a familiar body.
Jigsaw.
“What’re you doing here?” I hurry to meet him.
My gaze lands on his SUV parked close to the house. How’d I miss that? “It’s freezing. Why are you outside?”
“One thing at a time.” He curls his arm around my waist and drags me closer. Chilled leather brushes my cheek. How long has he been out here?
He leans down and seals his lips against mine. He swallows my sharp squeak of surprise and cups the back of my head, holding me in place. Our lips slide together with a firm, delicious pressure that chases the cold out of my body, replacing it with a simmering warmth.
Dizzy from the rise in temperature and change in my evening plans, I pull back and stare up at him.
“I missed you today,” he says simply.
Another fraction of my annoyance with him ebbs away. “Come inside,” I whisper. “You’re freezing.”
“I didn’t want to startle you and meet you outside the garage.” He takes my hand, and we walk up the steps to the back door. He holds open the screen door for me while I unlock the door.
“You could’ve sent me a text telling me you were here.” I glance over my shoulder at him.
His serious expression doesn’t change. “I didn’t want to risk you telling me to go home.”
“I wouldn’t have done that.” I step into the house with him right behind me. The door closes behind us with a soft click. Most of the lights are off downstairs.
I shrug out of my coat and hang it on a hook by the front door. Jigsaw glances at it and then the stairs.
“You can leave it down here if you want. Your truck’s parked right outside,” I point out. “Seeing your coat won’t shock anyone.”
He chuckles and slips it off, pulling out his keys and phone, tucking them in his jeans pockets.
The long day grinds into me, each step up to my apartment heavier than the last. Jigsaw trails behind me, close enough that his breath skims the back of my neck.
As soon as I open the door, Gretel trots over with a chirp, tail high and twitching.
“Let me feed her,” I say, stepping inside.
“Can I watch?”
I turn and stare up at him, mouth open. “You want to watch me feed my cat?” I ask slowly.
He shrugs. “In case you ever need me to do it for you?”
“Uh, okay.”
Gretel doesn’t seem to mind the audience. She dives face-first into her dish the second I set it down, purring like a machine.
“I’m going to change,” I mutter, already halfway to my bedroom.
Restless, irritated energy pulses through me. I hurry into my room and into my closet, searching for something cozy.
When I emerge, in my red flannel pajamas, I smack right into Jigsaw’s hard chest.
He slips his arms around me and leans in, gaze dropping to my mouth like he’s ready to finish what we started outside.
“Oh no you don’t.” I plant both palms on his chest and push—harder than necessary, but not enough to move him.
“What?” He nuzzles against my neck, inhaling like my scent gives him life.