Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
“Likewise.”
They shake hands, Carl staring at Jigsaw and nodding. Should I be insulted? Does he think I’m that undateable or something?
“Well, that should be everything. If you have any issues, just call.” Carl hesitates for a beat then mutters a quick goodbye.
“Bro didn’t hide his disappointment well,” Jigsaw says, watching him go.
“What? Be serious.” My gaze skips from the door to Jigsaw’s face. “Are you happy now?”
“Yes.” He shifts the full weight of his attention to me, stepping closer, crowding against the wall. Not touching, yet. But close enough to notice how much space he takes up and how protected I feel in his orbit.
At the back door, several other voices converge. Whatever’s happening between us has to wait. I press my hands against Jigsaw’s chest. “I…I have to get back to work.”
He shifts his body to the side, allowing just enough space to slip through.
My dad’s voice rises above the others, knocking all the fuzzy feelings right out of me. My nervous gaze darts around the room. Chairs—almost done. Flowers—still need to be moved. Supplies—still need to be brought up from the basement. I haven’t accomplished much this morning. “Damn. Dad’s back already,” I mutter.
“I’ll finish lining up those chairs.” Jigsaw clasps his hand over my shoulder. The heat and possessiveness in his eyes have been dialed back to a slow simmer. “What else can I help you do to get ready? Between those cops wasting your time and me not being able to keep my hands off you, you’re running behind.”
I slide my hand down his chest. “I’ll never complain about having your hands on me.”
“Good.” He lifts his chin. “Tell me. What else?”
“Ah, the chairs. One more row, there.” I drag my finger through the air, indicating a space near the podium. “And then I have to run downstairs for some bulbs. I need to change out the ones over there.”
He nods once. “I saw a ladder in the closet back there. Okay to use that one?”
“Yup.”
“Got it.”
I hurry into the hallway and meet my father at the back door. “Flowers are here.” Duh, he just ran into Carl. Why am I so flustered, acting like a teenager who got caught making out in the driveway after curfew?
“Good.” He lifts his gaze, staring down the long hallway.
“I’m still working through my list,” I say before he starts firing off questions. “Two detectives stopped by earlier. Talking to them set me back a little.”
“Detectives, why?”
I shrug. “I guess Laurel Larsen’s husband died? They wanted to know if we’d spoken to her recently. I have their cards.”
His forehead wrinkles. “It’ll have to be later. Sorry you had to deal with that.”
“It’s fine.” I drop my gaze and pluck at an invisible piece of lint on my blazer. “Jigsaw’s helping me prepare the viewing room.”
“That’s…” He pauses for so long, I drag my gaze up to his face. “Very nice of him,” he finishes.
“Coming through,” Paul shouts.
My father and I side-step away from the door. Paul bustles in, balancing platters of snacks in his arms and heads straight for the kitchen.
Footsteps thud along the floor behind me. It can only be Jigsaw and my heart flutters in anticipation.
A smile lifts my father’s face. “Morning. Margot says you’ve been helping out. Thank you.”
“Not a problem.” Jigsaw stops behind me, so close his warmth spreads over my back. “I didn’t want to leave Margot alone when there were so many people coming in and out.”
His tone carries an edge of judgment. And here I’d been worried he was going to mention he spent the night—not that Dad couldn’t figure that out on his own. Instead, he’s implying, what? I need a babysitter to do my own job?
Anger heats my blood. I grit my teeth and force a smile.
“Yes,” my father says smoothly. “We’re a bit short-handed this morning.”
“I need to run downstairs,” I say.
Dad nods once. “Meet me in the office when you’re done.”
I take a right, heading down the hallway. It’s not until I pause at the basement door that I realize Jigsaw’s right behind me.
“Are you my shadow now?” I ask, pushing the door open and hurrying down the stairs.
“What?” He pounds down the stairs behind me.
I stop at the bottom and glance up. He left the door open.
Shaking my head, I turn the corner. “You realize I’ve done this job for a while, right? I don’t need you telling my dad you stuck around to babysit me.”
He scowls. “What are you talking about?”
“You didn’t want to leave me alone,” I mimic in a deep voice that sounds nothing like Jigsaw’s.
“Because you said you’d have vendors coming in and out.” His voice rises with frustration. “I wasn’t implying you’re not capable.” He clenches his jaw. “I don’t trust people. You, of all people, should understand why.”
I have been alone with more than one vendor who made me uncomfortable, but I’d rather bite off my tongue than admit it right now.