Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
I glance at the guys in the corner. Griff nods at me. Not in a flirty way, more like a subtle sense that he’s looking out for me.
I hurry to finish my sandwich, taking sips of water to quell the spiciness.
I’m dipping a piece of celery in some stray blue cheese dressing when Torch returns. I quickly swipe my napkin over my mouth.
“So, Margot, do you ever go to the drive-in out on Route 50?”
“Oh, wow. Not in years. My parents used to take me there when I was a kid.” Until my mom passed away and we stopped leaving the house all that much.
“Well, they’re still open. Wanna go Friday night?”
As of right now, I have Friday off, but that can always change. I hate to make plans and then break them, but I’d also like to go out and do something fun. Torch seems safe. Remy knows him. Griff knows him. That woman, Ella, seemed comfortable around him. “Sure,” I finally answer.
“Great.” He pulls out his phone. “Give me your number. I’ll pick you up—”
“I live all the way out in Pine Hollow.” I smile apologetically. “And my job’s kind of unpredictable. I might get called in.” Shoot, why’d I mention my job? Please don’t ask what I do.
He stares at me for a few seconds. Probably trying to decide if I’m giving an excuse.
“Really,” I say.
“Okay. You want to meet here first? Have dinner and then go?”
“Sure.”
“If you get called in or something, I can bring you right back.”
“Okay.”
A pleased smile spreads over his face. “Good.” I hand him my phone and he punches his number in. When his screen lights up, he answers, then disconnects.
“I’ll call Friday afternoon to make sure we’re still on,” he suggests. “That okay?”
“Yeah, that works.”
“Great. I’ll see you then.” He nods at me, then walks over to Griff’s table.
A refreshing wave of confidence washes over me, like I’m in control of my life again.
Torch might not end up being anything serious, but maybe that’s exactly what I need. Because for a few seconds, he actually helped me forget about my Jigsaw problem.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Jigsaw
Margot hasn’t answered any of my texts.
Maybe that’s for the best.
I’m guessing she didn’t find my had a great time Post-it Note flattering.
I can’t stop thinking about Shelby’s card reading, though. Kill the old me so something new can grow. It’s harder than it sounds.
Tonight, I’m headed in the direction of her place, but take a detour to Remy’s bar instead. I haven’t harassed him in a few days. He probably misses me.
And I’m hungry. It’s got nothing to do with avoiding Margot at all.
The place is the busiest I’ve seen it in a while. And for once, I don’t think it’s only Remy’s buddies taking up the spots.
Remy’s behind the bar and grins as soon as his gaze lands on me. “My favorite serial killer. How are you?”
I bare my teeth at him and drape myself over a seat at the bar.
He rests his elbows on the counter and leans over, getting too close to my face. “Interesting you chose that seat. That’s where your friend Margot sat when she stopped in last night.”
“Oh, yeah?” I ask, faking indifference.
“How in the hell do you two know each other again?”
“None of your business.” I point to the beer tap. “You want to take my order or are you just back there as decoration?”
He grabs a glass and pulls the beer, then sets it in front of me. I take a slow sip and try not to cringe at the bitterness of the cheap swill.
I don’t want to give Remy the green light to pry into my life, but I’m curious about why Margot stopped in here. Was she looking for me? Did she ask Remy if I’d been in? Fuck, was she hoping to hook up with Remy? He’ll nail anyone with two sets of lips, so it wouldn’t take much effort to capture his attention. “So why was she here?”
“For cookies.” He shrugs. “And she said you told her we have the best buffalo chicken sandwich.”
I nod and take another sip. “I did say that. I forgot to remind her how annoying the owner is, though.”
Remy laughs it off, not insulted. “Do you want something to eat?”
“Gee, could ya?” I cock my head, being as dickish as possible. “The buffalo chicken.”
“Coming up.”
While he’s gone, I turn on my stool and survey the room. A couple of old guys who look like they spent the afternoon golfing are in a booth by the back. Another younger couple that look like they stopped here on their way home from work. A rowdier group of what could be frat bros, although there aren’t any colleges nearby.
“Looking busier,” I say when Remy returns with my plate.
“Yeah. Teller’s been helping me with some advertising and stuff.”