Page 34 of Royal Desire

She tips her head and her stare hangs on me. She doesn’t say goodbye, and she doesn’t move. She watches until I get to my car and drive around the corner.

I hit my Bluetooth. “Call Pettit.”

It’s been years, but I’m counting on him to come through for me. It rings four times. I think he’s about to send me to voicemail, either because of the hour or because he has so much business he doesn’t need to take my call. It’s fifty-fifty.

Then his voice rumbles across my speakers. “This is a blast from the past.”

“Eli,” I greet him. “It’s been a while. I have shit timing. Thanks for taking my call so late on a Sunday.”

“Not many people have my private number. If it rings, I usually answer. Are you back at the firm?”

“I wish.” I tell him the truth. “I hear you’re doing business in my neighborhood. Devon Donnelly hired you carte blanche to run security for his place in Winslet.”

That perks his attention. “You know Donnelly?”

“I grew up in Winslet. For better or worse—mostly worse these days—I’m back. I won’t bore you with the details. I took over my father’s investment firm and am practicing law on the side from time to time when I have the opportunity.”

“It never ceases to amaze me how small the world really is. What can I do for you?”

“I have a job. A woman just moved back to Winslet. She’s been in New York City for over a decade. I think something is up with her, and I want to know what it is.”

“What’s her story?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I called you. I’ll send you her name and the few details I know. I want to know everything you can find out about her during her time in New York. Where she worked, associates, but really, who she was with. You get my drift.”

He pauses and takes it all in before he finally answers. “You know I usually vet my clients, but I’ve always taken your cases.”

I grip my steering wheel as I make my way up the mountain to my life in hell. “I appreciate it.”

“It sounds like a jilted-lover case.”

“Now you’re just showing off. There’s a reason you’re known as being the best. I need to know everything, so spare no expense.”

He chuckles once. “At least tell me what I’m dealing with. Who’s been jilted?”

“Me.” As I press the button to open the gate to the place I call home, my insides tighten just driving onto the property thinking about what’s waiting for me. “I want to know everything there is to know about Ruby Sinclair for the last twelve years. But what I really want to know is why she’s back in Winslet.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

FROM FRIGID TO BALMY

Ruby

Talk about a change in the weather.

And I’m not talking Mother Nature.

The temperature of Payne Deacon has turned from frigid with a negative wind chill to a balmy ninety-eight-point-six. He’s so comfortable around me, I’m the one left itchy in my own skin.

Monday, he did as promised and had breakfast at the Combover. He sat at the counter and chatted with Winnie while he ate an egg-white vegetable omelet. He didn’t glare at me once, growl in my direction, or try to murder me with his whiskey-brown lasers. I’m not sure what shocked me more, his pleasant demeanor or the fact he’s turned into a health freak. Winnie might have been more surprised by his one-eighty than me, because she talked about it for the rest of the day.

Tuesday, he stopped in for a cup of coffee to go. He drinks it black these days—another new thing for me to learn about him. While he was there, he stopped to chat with the retired club who was playing their weekly dominoes game. He even took his non-asshole persona to a new level when he slipped me two fifties, told me to pay for their lunch, and to order them the daily cobbler. Then he wished me a fabulous day.

Another thing to know about the new Payne: the word fabulous is in his vocabulary.

I also learned that there was another post about us in the Winslet Uncut social media group. This one wasn’t about a dog-eat-dog fight between Payne and me. No, this one featured a picture of Payne slipping me the cool Ulysses S. Grants. Payne might as well be a GQ model gazing down at me with his ruggedly handsome self with a smirk pulling at one side of his full lips. He looked like he just ordered up a naked Ruby Sinclair and was deciding whether to devour me slowly or eat me whole. I, on the other hand, was sporting another coffee stain—this time in the shape of Texas—and looked like a small animal who was about to become a victim in the food chain.

I wish I could block people in real life the way I can online. The number of patrons who showed me the Uncut post clicked into the teens.