“Apparently not.”
She waved back to his house where Serena waited. “Driving drunk, as she so obviously did, not only put her life in danger but countless others, too. I’d appreciate it if you would emphasize that point to her. For everyone.” Not the outrageous things she had thought to say, but no less important, no less true. She had grown up her whole life surrounded by law enforcement. She had heard the stories. She’d seen the look on her father’s face the morning after he had to scrape some poor soul off the highway because some idiot decided to get behind the wheel of a car after he had one too many drinks.
He waited a moment before replying, still looking at her, still assessing, still making her feel like a bug squashed beneath his shoe. “I’ll do that.”
She tried to read him, to see if he was mocking her, but she only sensed that he was being honest in his reply.
She gave a nod. “Thank you.”
Still clinging to the scraps of her dignity, she spun around on her bare feet, feeling the bun on top of her head start to slip.
She fled inside her house and slammed the door behind her before her hair took a complete tumble. She fell against the door, her back flat against its surface, her chest heaving as though she had just completed a marathon.
She finally got to meet him. They finally had a conversation. Unfortunately it went nothing as she had anticipated. She closed her eyes in a weary blink. A deep heaviness settled in her stomach and she knew this wasn’t over between them.
As if there were any doubts to that thought, something crashed next door that sounded suspiciously like a lamp, followed by Serena’s shrill, drunken laughter.
Faith strained to listen, stepping into her kitchen area and jerking as several thwacks hit the wall beside her table.
Stepping forward she pounded back on the wall. “Keep it down!” She was done playing nice. So what if she sounded like some old prude. She wasn’t in college anymore. She didn’t have to put up with loud neighbors anymore.
She heard the deep muted tones of North’s voice, his words a distinctive rumble. Great. Now she would hear their shenanigans all night. She winced at that idea. The notion of North having sex with an inebriated woman seemed wrong. She wanted to think better of him for some reason. Which was very strange. Serena clearly wanted some action. That was why she came here. She had said as much. Serena’s hands making a direct beeline for his junk left little doubt of that.
What was so disappointing was that North Callaghan was likely prepared to give it to her.
Snorting with disgust, Faith pushed away from the door and headed upstairs. She climbed into her bed and settled back on her pillow, hoping to fall back asleep so that she would not have to endure the sounds of marathon sex coming through the walls again.
For once, her wish came true, and she fell fast asleep, sparing herself the sounds of whatever was happening next door.
She had green shit all over her face. He had no idea what it was. Clearly some part of a beauty regime that women felt necessary. Women like her. Women not for him. Women who cared about skin care and had careers and dated men with careers. Not felons who worked in garages and fooled themselves into believing they were artists. She would never get her pristine hands dirty with someone like him.
He dropped his head back against the flat expanse of his front door and released a mirthless laugh at the memory of her green face. He still didn’t know what she looked like underneath that mask. Unbelievable. He was dying to know, dying to see her for himself. It was messed up. He lived next door to her. He knew it was as simple as knocking on her door and playing the role of nice neighbor. Introducing himself properly. Apologizing for whatever he had done. He grimaced. He could start with apologizing for his drunk friend showing up at her door in the middle of the night.
He could be charming if he decided to. There had been a time in his life when he had been a well-liked guy. Affable. Full of smiles. Teachers had loved him. Coaches had only ever praised him—not just for his athleticism but also his positive attitude. Parents had wanted their daughters to date him. North Callaghan had been a name that meant something, that held value. He’d been a prince in his corner of the world—Sweet Hill, Texas. Granted, it was a small corner of the world . . . but he’d been a prince nonetheless.
If he pretended to be that guy again, if he channeled him from the grave, he could probably smooth things over with Faith Walters.