“Fine.” Flustered, she raised a hand to push her hair over her shoulder, saw how much her fingers were shaking, and lowered her hand back to her side. She suddenly remembered why she’d come outside before Hugh had scared the spit out of her. Looking around, she didn’t see any other people except for the two of them. The street was just as deserted as it had been earlier, but her skin burned as if a thousand pairs of eyes were watching her every move. Sunlight reflected off the windows of the buildings across the street, making it impossible to see inside. Grace wrapped her arms around herself and turned back to Hugh. “Did you see anyone come out of the store?”
His gaze sharpened, changing from general concern to focused interest. “Just you, but I was putting some things in my truck, so my back was turned for a few minutes.” He waved at a red pickup—one that looked old in a ready-for-the-junkyard way, rather than in a classic-car-show way—parked behind Jules’s SUV. A shepherd-type dog sat in the passenger seat, watching them with huge, pricked ears. “Why?”
“No reason.” A rustling sound made her jerk her head around, but it was only the wind making leaves dance across the road.
“Uh-huh,” Hugh said, not sounding as if he believed her. “Was someone bothering you in there?”
She wasn’t sure how to answer that. Although she would’ve sworn she heard someone outside her dressing room, she was starting to think that she was imagining things. After all, the past several days would’ve messed with almost anyone’s sanity. Since she didn’t want to consider that she couldn’t trust her own senses, she changed the subject. “What are you doing out here?”
“Just…more errands.” For the first time since she’d met him, Hugh didn’t answer with his usual cocky confidence. Instead, his gaze darted to the side as he slid his hands in his pockets, looking like a strangely appealing combination of naughty boy and confident man. He snuck a glance at her, and she raised an eyebrow, making him huff and swing a hand toward the pickup. “My truck’s right there. I had to walk by here to get to it.”
“Uh-huh.” She echoed his skeptical sound from earlier. “Do we need to have the stalking-is-bad talk again?”
“I’m a cop, not a stalker,” he said with exaggerated patience. “I arrest stalkers.”
“Might want to check out your house.”
“What?”
She smirked. “It’s looking a little see-through and glassy to me.”
“What?”
“Glass house? Throwing stones?”
Lips pursed, he eyed her for several seconds. “You’re not very good at telling jokes.”
“I’m an excellent joke teller!” Grace huffed.
“Uh-huh.”
The door opened behind her. “Grace?” Jules said tentatively. “You okay?”
As Grace turned toward the store, she realized that her fear had disappeared. Hugh might be one of the most aggravating people she’d ever met, but he’d made her forget for just a moment that her life was a terrifying, out-of-control horror movie.
She realized that Jules was still waiting for an answer, so Grace gave her a smile. “Sure. Should we go back in?”
Jules studied her for a long moment. As the seconds ticked by, Grace’s apprehension returned, and she fought the need to scan her surroundings again, looking for Martin or one of his flunkies. Now that she didn’t have the distraction of Hugh teasing her, all she could think about was how it wasn’t safe outside. She needed to get back into the store. As if Jules could read Grace’s thoughts, she held the door open wider, allowing Grace to reenter the thrift store.
Grace couldn’t resist sneaking a look over her shoulder as she headed through the doorway. The only person on the street was Hugh, watching her with an expression that was a mixture of heat and suspicion and a deep determination that sent a shiver through her.
Despite the comfort and distraction he’d just given her, she needed to be careful. There would be no falling for a cop—especially not one as annoying and bullheaded and beautiful as Officer Hugh Murdoch.
Chapter 6
She needed a job. Desperately.
It had only been a week. Despite having taken over the cleaning and the cooking and the packing of school lunches, Grace was bored out of her mind. It was her own fault. There was no reason she couldn’t have gone to town—to the library or to one of the touristy shops having closing-for-the-season sales, or even to have lunch at the viner. Part of the deal with Mateo Espina when she’d left California had been trading her Infiniti for another car—a Subaru—so Grace had transportation.