Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
“Goldie.” Violet, one of the vet techs calls for me.
“I’m in block three,” I shout back. A second later, she appears in her blue scrubs.
“There’s a police officer out front asking for you.” My heart sinks, and nerves fill my stomach.
“For me?” I squeak.
“Yep.” Her brows pull together. “You okay?”
“Yes, fine. I’ll be right there,” I rush to say. Jeez. So much for playing it cool.
“All right. I’ll let him know.” When she turns to leave, I take a deep breath. Should I make a run for it? I didn’t kill Hoover, but I also didn’t report it. What if there were cameras that saw it all? Even what happened after? This is bad. Really bad.
I want Avery. That’s all I can think as I make my way to the front of the shelter. I don’t have my cell phone. It’s still in my glove box. I’m sure it’s dead at this point.
When I open the door, I see the cop standing there. And it’s not just any cop. Of course it’s my father. “Marigold,” he says when he sees me. “I need to speak with you.”
“Okay.”
“If you need privacy, you can use exam room two,” Violet offers. Thanks a whole lot, Violet. The last thing I want to be is alone with my father.
My father motions to the open door with the number two on it, and I go. I don’t have much of a choice.
“Why are you here? This is my place of work,” I ask the second the door closes behind us. If we’re in public, he’ll pretend to be a caring father, but it’s all bullshit. I was a mistake, according to him. One he’d gotten stuck with.
“Always so dramatic. This isn’t your work. You volunteer here.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I put my hands on my hips, but then quickly remember my ring and slip that hand behind my back.
“I wouldn’t be here if you answered your phone.”
“I left it in my Jeep.”
“Which isn’t parked outside,” he points out.
“Did you need something?”
“I was checking on you. I know that you clean for the Hoover family, and there has been an incident.” I try to keep my face neutral.
“What kind of incident?”
“Mr. Richard Hoover is dead.”
I gasp, pretending to be shocked. I did take one semester of theater in high school. You needed one liberal arts credit, and I couldn’t sing to save my life, so theater it was. “His wife also reported that she’d noticed a few expensive items missing from their home.”
“That sucks.”
“That sucks?” my father repeats.
“What? I didn’t know them well. I cleaned their house, that’s all.”
“Mrs. Hoover said that Richard had a bit of a fascination with you.”
I scrunch my nose. What am I? Rich people catnip? “I don’t know anything about that. Besides, I'm seeing someone.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep,” I chirp.
“Who?”
“I plead the fifth.”
My father closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t a courtroom, Marigold.”
“You’re right. It’s the shelter, and I need to get back to it.” I go to step past him to make my escape, but he grabs my arm.
“Where were you last night?”
“With my man.”
“Name.”
“Fifth,” I say again.
“Is he married?” His hand tightens on my arm.
“No,” I answer honestly. Not yet at least.
“This isn’t over,” he says but releases his hold on me.
I think he’s right. This is far from over.
13
AVERY
Elliott stares at me, his hand stopping before the coffee cup makes it to his mouth.
“What?” I shrug.
He puts his cup down. “Sorry, it’s just, for a minute there I thought you said that you met a woman and intend to marry her tonight. Hell, I even hallucinated you asking me to be your best man.”
“You aren’t hallucinating.” I down my espresso, just the amount of bitter and delicious for me. “I expect you on time and well dressed. I want you to make a good impression. Marigold deserves the best.”
“You’re serious?” He runs a hand through his hair. “Is this like a prank or something? Is it April Fool’s Day? Wait, it’s not April.”
“I assure you this is the real deal.”
“B-but …” He looks up as if he might find the word he’s searching for floating over his head. “You can’t marry a woman you just met.”
“I can, and I will.”
“Who is she? Do you even know anything about her?”
I’ve never seen Elliott flabbergasted. Not like this. Sure, I’ve seen him sweating our escape or momentarily stumped by a good lock or too many security guards–but the look on his face right now? It’s brand new, and highly fucking amusing.
“I know she belongs to me.”
“She’s not a vase, Avery.”
“She’s much more than that,” I agree.
“How’d you meet her?”
“She was trying to steal my golden orchid.” I smile at the memory.
“She’s an operator?” His eyes widen.
“Not at all. She was sent by Richard Hoover, an avid collector. I suspect she may have lifted some items from him, got caught, and then he proposed she come steal my orchid to keep him from going to the police. She hasn’t told me all of it yet, but I think it’s a good guess.”