“I’ll shut everything down,” he said, adding a look and a wave that meant he’d take one last look around inside, too. Cady smiled her thanks, but her eyes held a hint of regret.
Emily followed her sister into the master bedroom. The door closed, then a few seconds of low-voiced girl murmurs, then the water started running through the pipes. Conn checked every window latch, every door lock. He checked that the garage doors were closed. He turned off all the lights but the one over the stove. Then he looked around the dimly lit space. It seemed warm, homey, secure. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that the threat Cady dismissed so easily was real, and close by.
CHAPTER NINE
The next morning Cady woke up alone in her bed.
Blinking against the bright sunshine streaming through the wood slats of the blinds like the world’s worst wakeup call, she looked over at the other side of the bed, where Emily had fallen asleep last night. She’d washed her face while Cady leaned against the tiled wall and tried hard not to resent her sister’s presence. Emily was such an important part of her life, and time with her was too limited. Once Emily started college it would be even more limited. They were close, but Cady didn’t harbor any illusions that she could compete with New York City and the fashion career waiting for Emily there.
She leaned over and patted the fluffy down comforter, just in case Emily was facedown and dead to the world. No Emily. But she smelled coffee, so odds were good Em was in the kitchen, ready to talk fashion. She scooted to the edge of the bed and jammed her feet into her slippers. Hopefully Conn was a late sleeper. Odds were equally good he’d be bored into a stupor by the time Em finished. So far she’d seen him in the same off-duty uniform: no-nonsense running shoes, jeans, river driver shirt with the sleeves pushed to the elbows, and his denim jacket. His only concession to the cold was to flip up the collar.
Keeping his hands in his pockets was about something else. She felt sure of it.
Her fleece robe was hanging on the back of the bathroom door. She pulled it on over her pajamas and belted it tightly at her waist. Her hair, she discovered, was somewhere between Medusa and electrocuted. Oh well.
She opened the bedroom door and shuffled into the hall, heading for the kitchen. “Whoever made coffee is my new favorite—”
The remaining part of that sentence was cut off when she saw Conn and Em together in the kitchen. Conn was standing on the opposite side of the island, a steaming cup of coffee on the granite surface, his attention firmly fixed on the phone in his hand. Em was leaning against the stove, wearing a pair of footed pajamas covered with bright red kisses. She held a cup of coffee between her hands and was studiously ignoring Conn.
“Good morning,” Cady said.
“Morning,” Conn said. He looked at her, gaze skimming from hair to monkey-slippered feet, then back at his phone.
“Hi,” Emily said. “Sleep well?”
“Yes,” Cady said, acting as if nothing were amiss. “Full strength?”
“I made it just the way you like it,” Em said. “Half bold, half hazelnut, all decaf.”
“How’s the weather?”
“Warmer,” Conn said. He looked right at her, his gaze never once flicking toward her sister. “A front came through last night. Highs in the forties today.”
“Great. I’m going to sit outside and drink this,” she said as she opened the fridge. Inside was a carton of her chocolate almond milk. She poured in a healthy dollop. “Care to join me, Em? I saw deer yesterday.”
“Sure,” her sister said.
“You mind if I make pancakes?” Conn asked.
“I would love it if you made pancakes,” Cady said.
“None for me,” Emily threw over her shoulder. “Thanks.”
Whether the outdoors was warmer than the house’s interior was debatable. Cady kept her mouth shut and unlocked the door leading to the deck. Sunshine pooled on the oversized wicker furniture, the dark red cushion covers trapping the heat. She tucked her feet underneath her robe, leaned her head against the chair’s high back, and mentally rehearsed her approach to this.
The door opened and Emily came out, clutching the fleece throw from the sofa and a cup of coffee.
“Em,” Cady started.
“What?” Emily replied, all innocence. Making Cady say it.
“You’re being rude to Conn. Knock it off.”
“Why? He’s just a bodyguard.”
“Exactly. He’s my employee. I treat him with the respect and consideration due a professional doing his job.”
Em settled into a petulant pout and examined her nails. Uncertain, impatient, and lacking the heavy layer of makeup she’d worn last night, Emily suddenly looked exactly her age. The footies weren’t helping, reminding Cady of all the times she’d bathed Em and put her to bed when their mother was working late. “What’s wrong?” she asked gently.
“I’m tired of waiting around for my brand to take off,” Emily said finally. “It’s been, like, forever.”