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Stripes didn’t hesitate to curl up in the passenger seat when Curt set him down.
A long, winding driveway brought Curt down to a small house. The exterior of it reminded him of the house he’d bought, which made sense. Peter had mentioned this home had once been the groundskeeper’s cottage when the Drapers owned the property. Although the home was as old as his, this one had been maintained over the years. Even the lawn and plants in front looked well cared for.
Curt parked behind a white Chevy Malibu. A girl’s bike rested against the front steps, but the door was closed. “I hope someone is home.” He gave the cat a scratch behind the ear before ringing the doorbell.
It didn’t take long for someone to answer. A woman perhaps in her late fifties or early sixties opened the door. Before either of them could speak, a young girl’s voice called out, “Is it the mailman, Mimi?” A moment later, the owner of the voice skidded to a stop at the door.
“What are you doing with Stripes?” the girl demanded when she saw him there.
“Reese Walker, that’s no way to greet someone,” the older woman, who he assumed was a relative judging by the resemblance, said before she turned her attention to him again.
He offered up a smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s a fair question,” Curt said, before holding the cat toward the little girl. “I found him sitting on my car next door. I wasn’t sure if he’d gotten out by mistake.”
“Stripes likes to walk around outside, but he usually stays in our yard,” the older woman said, giving the cat a pat on the head. “You must be the one who bought the Cranston house. Welcome to town. I’m Priscilla, and this is my granddaughter, Reese.” She extended her hand toward him.
“Curt, and that’d be me. I moved in today.” He shook her hand and waited for any sign she recognized him. Although he resembled his mother’s side of the family more than his father’s, he still had the Sherbrooke blue eyes like his dad and so many of his cousins. And he’d had his fair share of pictures in magazines. Thankfully, nothing like his cousins Jake and Trent, though. In an effort to help conceal his identity, he’d stopped shaving, so a well-trimmed beard now covered his face. He’d skipped his last two scheduled haircuts as well. As an extra measure, he’d thrown on a pair of eyeglasses.
“I thought I saw the moving trucks go by. You’re probably not done unpacking yet. Why don’t you join us for dinner tonight? We’re making lasagna. There’s more than enough for an extra few guests.”
“It’s just me next door.” He hadn’t anticipated dinner invitations from his neighbors. The woman appeared friendly, and he hated to be rude. “Sure, sounds great. Thank you. Can I bring anything?”
Priscilla shook her head. “No, just yourself. We usually eat around seven.”
“I’ll see you then.”
***
Taylor locked her gun in the bedroom safe before going back downstairs. While she’d drilled gun safety into her niece, she saw no point in taking any chances. She noticed the extra plate on the table as soon as she entered the kitchen.
“Who’s coming for dinner?” They never had last-minute guests, and she didn’t remember Mom mentioning company tonight.
“Our new neighbor. He found Stripes this afternoon and brought him home. Moving and unpacking is draining. I thought he’d like a meal he didn’t have to prepare himself, so I invited him to join us.”
Taylor looked toward the ceiling and shook her head. “You invited a stranger to eat with us?” Sometimes her mom’s heart was just too damn big.
Mom left the salad she was preparing and went to the refrigerator. “Curt’s not a stranger. He lives next door. Besides, he looked harmless.”
How many times had she heard something similar from victims? More than enough to know looks could be deceiving.
“Peppers or mushrooms in the salad tonight?” Mom asked, her back still turned to Taylor.
“Either is fine.” The contents of their salad didn’t concern her. Having a strange man eat dinner with her niece did. “I really wish you’d waited to invite him, given everyone a chance to get to know him.”
“Why? So you could run a background check on him first?” Her mom chuckled and took out the peppers and mushrooms.
Mom might laugh, but if she could run a background check on the man, she would. Unfortunately, doing so without a valid reason was an agency no-no.
“Would an ax murderer return a cat to his home? Relax, Taylor. He won’t kill us over dinner.”
Her mom would be surprised the things criminals did to make their victims feel at ease and invite them into their homes. Belaboring the point wouldn’t change the fact their neighbor was joining them. Taylor considered whether or not to go back upstairs and get her gun. Dressed in denim capris and a tank top, there would be no way to conceal it unless she pulled on a baggy sweatshirt. It was a gorgeous spring evening, and Mom had all the windows open. Both their guest and niece would find it odd if she sat down with a big sweatshirt on. Their guest might not question it, but Reese wouldn’t think twice about saying something.
“What time is he coming?”
“He should be here any minute. I told him we eat around seven,” Mom answered, just as the doorbell rang and the oven timer went off. “Perfect timing. Can you get the lasagna, and I’ll get the door?” She didn’t stick around for an answer. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and walked out of the kitchen.
“Thank you, but really, you didn’t have to bring anything.” Her mom’s voice traveled the short distance from the front door into the kitchen. “Come on in. Dinner is ready.”
“It smells delicious, Mrs.…” A deep male voice, perhaps the sexiest she’d ever heard, reached Taylor from the hallway.
