Page 46 of It Runs in the Family

“Long story,” I said. “But the guy’s gonna come inside and try to get my address or phone number. Don’t let Mannie give it to him.”

“You’re not telling me not to give it to him.”

“Please,” I groaned. “You’re not an idiot.”

She chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll staple Mannie’s mouth shut if I need to,” she said in disgust. “I can’t believe he got you fired because of his deluded belief you would go out with him.”

“Yeah, well, I guess it was time to get a new job anyway.”

“Since we don’t work together anymore,” she said with an impish tone, “then maybe you and me can go out.”

I laughed. “And get beat up by your girlfriend? No thanks.”

“We could make it threesome.”

“Yeah, double no thanks. I can barely handle one guy at a time, let alone two girls.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing…”

“You know what? Give me one more asshole ex, and we’ll revisit this conversation,” I teased.

“Be careful out there,” Lisa said, turning serious. “I suspect you made an enemy out of that guy. He looks pissed enough to strangle you.”

“You be careful. He might take it out on you.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve already locked the front door, and he’s currently standing at the window, sending hate-filled blinks at me through the glass. Do you want me to call the police?”

“If you feel unsafe, then by all means, but don’t do it on my account. I’m going to find my deputy sheriff cousin now and let him handle it.”

Chapter Thirteen

I decided to just show up at Garrett’s front door, hoping he was home. His old-school Bronco was parked in the driveway, thankfully, but his house lights were off, not that I was surprised.

I got out and checked down the street to make sure no one had followed me, even though I’d been glancing into my rearview mirror the entire way. I found Garrett’s number in my phone and called, waiting several rings before he answered with a groggy, “Iris?”

“Garrett, I’m outside your house right now. I need to talk to you.”

“Coming,” he said, sounding instantly awake and in fix-it mode. Seconds later, he opened the front door bare-chested and wearing a pair of gym shorts. “What’s going on?”

I walked inside, while he moved into the middle of the living room. “Could I get something to drink?”

“Alcoholic or not?”

I still had a lingering headache from my hangover, and despite the hair-of-the-dog theory, I said, “Not.”

“I have water and Coke.”

“Water. I’ll get it.”

“No. Sit. You’re shaking.”

He was right, my hands were shaking in front of me. I sat on the sofa as the brave front I’d put up began to crumble.

Garrett was back seconds later, handing me a glass of ice water. “Let me go grab a shirt. I only threw on my shorts because I didn’t want to leave you outside any longer than necessary.”

“Go. I’m fine,” I said before I took a sip of the water.

“You’re not fine. You’re at my house at eleven-thirty at night, shaking like a leaf. I’ll give you a moment to take a few deep breaths while I get a shirt and go to the bathroom, then you’re gonna tell me what’s going on.”