Protecting What's His(60)
Her sister snorted. “Ginger, don’t ever play poker for money.”
Ten minutes later, a knock sounded at the door. Ginger made a shooing gesture to Willa, who stood in the kitchen. “Go in the other room. You have to make an entrance.” Willa rolled her eyes but did as she was told. Ginger checked through the peephole to make sure Evan stood on the other side, then pulled open the door.
“Hey, Ginger.”
“Evan.” She stepped aside to let him in, hiding her smile over how handsome he looked in his black dress pants and button-down shirt. Her sister knew how to pick ’em. “Are you driving tonight?”
“No. My friends and I chipped in on a limo. I hope that’s okay.”
“As long as you don’t use it as an excuse to drink. I don’t care what you do on your own time, but I want my sister brought home safe, Mr. Carmichael.”
Evan ran a nervous hand through his hair, messing it up further. “I’m not going to lie to you—some of my friends will probably drink tonight. But you have my word that I won’t touch a drop. I want Willa safe, too.”
She appreciated his honesty and smiled to let him know. “Okay, then. We understand each other.”
“Ginger, can I come out now?” Willa called impatiently from her bedroom.
“I suppose.”
The bedroom door opened and Ginger snapped Evan’s reaction shot on her cell phone. He looked like he’d been struck dumb at the sight of Willa coming toward him. She saved the photo of Evan with the intention of showing it to Willa the next time she felt unsure of his feelings for her. The poor kid looked two seconds away from throwing himself at her feet.
“Whoa.”
“Hey.” Willa shifted from side to side, looking uneasy under Evan’s scrutiny. She pretended to adjust the bracelet Ginger lent her to avoid his eyes.
“Willa, stop.”
Both sisters gaped at Evan.
“Stop what?” Willa managed.
“I can tell you’re freaking out.” He held out his hand to her. “Stop.”
Ginger watched, fascinated, as Willa’s eyes glassed over and she bit her bottom lip. Nodding, she reached out and took his hand.
“You look beautiful,” he breathed.
Willa’s face transformed with her smile. Safely tucked into Evan’s side, they walked to the door. Ginger stood rooted to her spot, unable to believe the exchange she’d just witnessed. How had Evan come to understand Willa so well in such a short period of time?
Letting Willa live her own life without interference had always seemed like the best approach, but now Ginger wasn’t so sure. Of course, she provided support whenever necessary and she liked to think they were best friends. But maybe she’d chosen to remain at a distance because it was easier for her, not Willa. By ignoring their mutual past and making light of the horrors they’d experienced, she’d set a horrible example. Pretend your problems don’t exist and push through had always been her philosophy. She never stopped to think it might be the wrong one. Willa had been given no choice but to follow suit.
It was time she fixed the mess she’d made.
Before they could walk out the door, Ginger stopped the couple. “Wait up, Wip. Evan, can I just have one minute with my sister?”
“Sure.” He walked out into the hallway to wait, throwing one more glance at her over his shoulder as he went.
Willa searched her face. “What’s up?”
Ginger fought to maintain her composure so as not to alarm Willa. She needed to find the right words to express her regret without giving herself away entirely.
“I just need to tell you that I’m going to do better. Okay? I want you to be as proud of me as I am of you right now. I’m going to do the right thing from now on.”
Smiling, Willa shook her head. “Ginger, you’re just emotional because I’m wearing a dress.”
“You’re right. That must be it,” she lied.
“I promise I’ll be back in a hoodie by tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Ginger opened the door and pushed her out. “Have fun, you two.”
Ginger closed the door behind them and blew out a shaky breath. Then she turned and walked to the Dolly statue. With a small twist to the right, the blonde’s head dislodged. She reached inside and pulled out the canvas bag.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Derek walked into his apartment and flipped on the lights. He set down the bottle of wine he’d picked up on the drive home and unstrapped his shoulder holster, laying it on the kitchen table. After finally wrapping up the paperwork and briefings pertaining to the Modesto case, he looked forward to a couple of much-needed days off. As soon as he took a shower and changed out of his wrinkled work clothes, he planned on dragging Ginger out of her apartment and into his bed. He’d see to her pleasure and then he’d damn well sleep for at least ten straight hours.