“Daisy.”
“It’s so nice to see you.” She put a hand on his shoulder, and he tried not to flinch from her touch. She went up onto her toes and attempted to brush her lips across his cheek. He didn’t bend down to meet her halfway, and instead her mouth grazed his neck, and he tensed even further.
She removed her hand, and he mourned the loss of her touch.
“You’re dancing,” he pointed out, desperate to keep everything casual. Just a couple of acquaintances, reacquainting themselves.
“Yes. As you so kindly pointed out, I’ve spent way too much time mulling over the past, so I figure it’s time for a change, right? Time to grow up and try new things.”
What new things?
“Your skirt’s too short,” he said, and she bent backward and craned her neck to try and see her own butt.
“You think so?” she asked, sounding remarkably unconcerned, where before she would have gone into spasms of doubt and insecurity over it.
“Your ass is hanging out.”
She laughed at his words, still much too lighthearted. “Well, you always said I have a nice bum, so I’m showing off my best asset. No pun intended.” Her voice was light, inviting him to share the joke, but he found himself incapable of even smiling right now, and her smile faded while the laughter died from her eyes. And Mason immediately felt like a prick for extinguishing that inner light. “Are you still angry with me? Won’t you forgive me? I know I was wrong to use Shar’s bitchiness as an excuse to end things with us. And in the end, it was literally all my fault.” Daisy laughed bitterly. “Do you want to hear something hilarious? It was me. I’m the one who told Shar about us. Zinzi overheard Daff and I talking in the powder room. And that’s where Shar got all her information! I’m so sorry, Mason.”
“Don’t,” he said gruffly. “Don’t keep apologizing. You have nothing left to apologize for.”
“We were friends,” she said, her voice mournful. “And I hate losing your friendship.”
“We weren’t friends,” he growled. “You told me that once, remember? We were never merely friends, Daisy.”
“Then what were we?”
“Nothing.” But that was a lie, and he shut his eyes before admitting the truth. “Everything.” When he opened his eyes it was to see her back as she walked away, never having heard his truth.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Daisy cast a nervous glance around her and conceded that she had made a stupid error in judgment in coming to Inkululeko on her own so close to sunset. Thomas had been relieved and happy to see her and had gratefully accepted the antihistamines she’d brought for little Sheba. The boy had called her at the practice, distraught because his dog was sneezing and vomiting nonstop. Symptoms that had developed practically overnight. Daisy promised to come and see Sheba after work, and one look had confirmed some kind of allergy. She had given the dog a shot, told Thomas how to administer the antihistamines, and advised him to bring Sheba into the clinic on Wednesday for a checkup.
Now, it was fully dark as she slowly drove through the maze of dilapidated shacks, and she uneasily acknowledged that most of the people staring at her were unfamiliar, none of the friendly faces she usually saw at the clinic. It was Monday evening and nobody knew she was here; her father had been busy with his last patient when she’d left, and Lucinda had taken a half day.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she took the corner and left the settlement behind, but the dark road back to town yawned threateningly ahead of her. The poor condition of the dirt road made it impossible for her to drive at a speed that would have made her feel a little more comfortable, and as she crept her way forward, the only light on the road coming from her headlights, she cursed herself for her stupidity. She looked down to search for her phone, her intention to tell someone where she was, and when she looked back up it was to see several armed men step onto the road in front of her car.
She wasn’t about to stop and sped up, but her tires spun on the gravel, unable to find the required traction, and the car fishtailed dangerously.
Oh my God, this can’t be happening!
Mason cursed when the annoying frickin’ ringtone that Spencer had programmed onto his phone jerked him from his work on the Ducati Diavel Walkaround that he’d been endlessly tinkering with for weeks.
He grabbed the phone with one greasy hand—it read “unknown caller,” which annoyed him even more—and uncaring of the smears he left on the screen, put it on speaker.
“Carlisle,” he grunted, grabbing a cloth.
“Mr. Carlisle?” The voice was female, hesitant, and familiar.
“Yeah, it’s Mason Carlisle.” He reached for a rag and wiped his hands.
“It’s Thandiwe Modise.”
“Thandiwe? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asked, immediately on alert.
“I’m fine, but you told me to let you know if I heard of anything that could be threatening to the clinic or Dr. Daisy. I’m worried; she came to the township this evening—”
“She what? Alone?” Mason could feel his blood start to boil. What was wrong with the foolish woman? How could she go out there on her own after hours on a Monday evening?
“She brought medicine for a boy’s sick dog. I heard that there might be some trouble. We’re worried. Some of the tsotsis”—thugs—“were seen following her.”
“Is she still there?” Mason felt a chill settle over him as his heart thudded sluggishly in his chest.
“I’m not sure.”