He pulled into her apartment’s parking lot and sent her a comforting smile. “You ready?”
She remembered how it felt when he’d held her. The way his hands pressed against her lower back. The way her head had rested on that soft, yet firm, spot between his shoulder and chest. But remembering was causing all kinds of havoc—emotionally, physically. Oh yeah. She needed to forget.
She grabbed her purse and got out of his SUV. He got out, too, and fell in step beside her without talking. When she fitted the key into the door, he touched her arm and she started remembering again.
“I just thought of something,” he said. “When you saw Stan, did he appear to be hurt?”
Cali recalled the blood on her door. “Not really,” she said. “At least, I didn’t see any signs of it.”
He nodded, and Cali turned the key. The familiar smell of her home greeted her, but nothing about the disaster before her looked familiar. She’d seen it once, but in her weakened emotional state, it hit her harder. Her brass lamp, the one Stan had shot through the door, lay on the floor, only now her ceramic lamp lay in pieces beside his brother lamp, the last victim of Stan’s malice. Did the man not like her lamps?
Oh, hell, it wasn’t just her lamps. Sofa cushions were scattered about, and books littered the room. Even the snow globe her mother had given her last Christmas lay upside down beside the coffee table. Thank God, he’s spared her this. She moved inside and picked it up, holding it tight.
“I’ll help you pick up, but let’s find the bracelet first.” He stepped over the mess and ducked into the kitchen.
Giving the snow globe one final squeeze, as if it somehow would offer her some moral support, she set it down and followed him. He stood by the stove, his gaze shifting around.
“Garbage is here.” She opened the cabinet where she kept the trash can. As she reached to start sorting, he caught her hand.
“I’ll do it. Do you have another trash bag?”
She supplied the bag and held it open as he sifted through her garbage. Not a dickhead, she thought again. He dropped items into the second bag—a black banana peel, accompanied by fruit flies, coffee grounds and junk mail. He was almost at the bottom. Her heart thudded at the thought that Stan had found the bracelet in the garbage.
Lowell reached into the very bottom and when he looked up, he smiled. “Pay dirt.”
He stood, bracelet in hand, and grimaced as if stretching down into the bin had hurt, then he pulled the photo from his pocket. “Looks like I have to confiscate this. Sorry.”
“I didn’t want it,” she said. The tender way he looked at her made her want to cry. And something told her if she cried again, she’d end up in his arms again. As tempting as that sounded, she couldn’t go there. She wouldn’t go there. Stiffening, she walked out of the kitchen and headed down the hall, stopping at her bedroom door. The topsy—turvy sight brought a moan to her lips.
Lowell stopped behind her. He touched her shoulder. Obviously, after she’d cried all over him, he thought touching her was acceptable.
“When he met you at the lawyer’s office, did he say anything about the bracelet?”
She turned around, thinking. “Yeah, he did, but then I ran.”
“I think that’s what he was looking for. That would also explain why he went to your mother’s house, and why he broke into your car.”
He glanced around and his eyes widened. “Shit!” He darted past her and dropped on his hands and knees beside the bed.
“What?” she asked.
“He took it.” He stood up, a frown creasing his forehead.
“Took what?”
“There was a baseball bat under here before.” He met her eyes.
“Yeah, it was his.”
“I figured that.” He rubbed his shoulder again. “A bat was used in the robbery.”
“Oh.” Shame for allowing herself to get mixed up with a criminal bit down like a big, hungry dog on her conscience. “I swear, I never knew. We met when my mama was going through chemo. I guess I wasn’t thinking straight.”
He nodded.
Unsure what else she could say, she looked around at the mess and picked up a lamp.
“You start picking up in here,” he said. “I’ll start in there.” He stepped for the door.
“You don’t have to help.”
“I don’t mind.” He cast a quick smile over his shoulder.
She watched him walk away, and remembered Tanya asking if he had a nice ass. She checked. It was nice. Really nice.
Great. Now she was thinking about his ass and his penis. Not to mention his shoulders.
Her stomach did that wiggly thing it did when she was attracted to someone. Not good.