Trez’s expression tightened and his jaw went rigid—evidence that he was going to respect her decision even if he didn’t agree with it. “Remember my offer about the money, okay?”

“I will.” She arched up on her tiptoes and kissed his dark cheek. “Promise.”

Trez settled her in the car, and after she backed out of her spot and started off, she glanced in the rearview mirror. In the glow of her taillights, he was watching her, his arms crossed over that heavy chest…and then he was gone as if he’d just disappeared.

Marie-Terese hit the brakes and rubbed her eyes, wondering if she had lost it…but then a car came up from behind her, its headlights flashing in the rearview and blinding her. Shaking herself, she hit the gas and shot out of the parking lot. Whoever was on her bumper turned off at the next street, and the trip home was about fifteen minutes long.

The house she rented was tiny, just a little Cape Cod that was in okay shape, but there were two reasons why she’d picked it over the other ones she’d looked at when she’d come to Caldwell: It was in a school zone, so that meant there were a lot of eyes around the neighborhood, and the owner had allowed her to put bars on all the windows.

Marie-Terese parked in the garage, waited for the door to trundle shut, and then got out to enter the darkened back hall. Going through the kitchen, which smelled like the fresh apples she always kept in a bowl, she tiptoed toward the glow in the living room. On the way, she tucked her duffel bag into the coat closet.

She’d empty it and repack it when there was no one around to see her.

As she stepped into the light, she whispered, “It’s just me.”

CHAPTER
4

He slept with her.

The following morning, Jim’s first thought was a real shitkicker, and to try to get away from it, he rolled over on his bed. Which just made his wakey-wakey worse. Dawn’s early light was kicking the ass of the curtain next to him, and as the brightness barged into his skull, he wished the frickin’ window were made out of Sheetrock.

Man, he couldn’t believe he’d slept with that gorgeous, vulnerable woman in his truck—like she was some kind of whore. The fact that he’d then come back here and drunk himself into a Corona-tose state was a little more believable. But what it all added up to was that he still felt bad about what he’d done and he was going to have to hammer nails all day with a hangover.

Great. Planning.