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Chapter 4
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Saturday morning, early, Lindsay was up and dressed. Last night’s crying had been a good thing; most of her pent-up anger and panic had been released.
But now she had to get out of the house as soon as possible. Her shop was open on Saturday mornings, and Saturday afternoons she usually spent mixing oils and making sure she had enough stock in the shop for the week ahead. Over the past week she’d received quite a few requests from clients who wanted various blends of oils for all sorts of ailments, ranging from headaches to snoring husbands, so she had more than enough to do to keep her busy all afternoon.
She and Charlie had converted the building Charlie had inherited from their Aunt Charlene into two parts. One the one side, Charlie had her rooms where she saw her clients for Bowden treatments, and Lindsay had turned the other side into her shop. At the back, attached to her shop, was a smaller room she used as a studio, where she mixed her essential oils and skincare products.
They were both healers—her dad used to tease them. Ever since they were small, they’d bring home stray and hurt animals, to their mother’s dismay. So it hadn’t come as any surprise when they’d both taken up nursing after school. And now they’d both found their own unique way of healing and helping people. Charlie had her Bowden Therapy and she had discovered the healing power of essential oils.
Her phone rang. Great, it was Stacy Lawrence. There weren’t many young people in Alisson, and when she’d met Stacy, during one of Blake’s self-defense classes at his dojo, they’d immediately clicked.
Stacy was also originally from South Africa and had moved to Alisson recently. Exactly what her story was, wasn’t clear. Stacey never gave a direct answer to anyone’s queries about her past, something that was driving Eleanor crazy. They all liked her, though, and were very glad about the small printing shop she’d opened. On top of that, she was also a computer whiz, and among the many things she could do, she designed websites—the reason why Lindsay had contacted her a while ago.
“Hi, Lindsay,” Stacy greeted her. “Sorry I’m only now phoning you, but it’s been a crazy week. Are you in the shop today? I can come and see you anytime.”
“Great. Whenever suits you.” They organized a time before Stacy rang off.
Smiling for the first time since she’d opened her eyes, Lindsay put her phone away. She’d been thinking about the idea of selling her products online, and the first step would be to get her own website. Up until now, she’d been reluctant to share any information about herself online because she’d been worried Mark would try and find her. But now that he’d tracked her down anyway, it didn’t really matter anymore. An online presence would give her a wider network of clients.
Just thinking of Mark made her shiver.
She hated feeling on edge all the time. Why couldn’t the police or the sheriff catch him?
Slowly, she walked down the stairs. In the cold light of day, the events of the previous evening seemed surreal. But the sounds coming from the kitchen were very real, emphasizing the fact she wasn’t alone in this house because Mark was threatening her safety.
And now Blake was here, living with her, under the same roof. Sleeping in the room next to hers. And immediately those stupid butterflies were back. She pressed her hand to her tummy. Seriously. The only reason he was here, at all, was because of her “psycho ex-boyfriend,” as he’d called Mark. Pressing her lips together, she stepped into the kitchen.
Blake was in front of the stove and didn’t turn around to look at her. “Morning. I’ve made coffee. Pancakes coming up.”
“You cook?”
“I like to eat; therefore, I’ve taught myself to cook.”
Not a man of many words. She poured coffee into a mug, and leaning against the kitchen counter, looked at him. Muscles rippled underneath the lightweight white sweater he was wearing.
She tried to inhale, but for some or other strange reason, she was finding it difficult to get enough oxygen in her lungs. Oh, my goodness, this was ridiculous.
“I’m sorry about my remark last night about your...about Taylor.” Blake still didn’t turn around to face her.
Just then, her phone rang. Relieved to be doing something other than staring at Blake, she checked her phone. It was Charlie.
Oh, damn, her sister had probably heard about the car that had nearly run her over. She kept forgetting everyone knew everyone’s business in the small town of Alisson, Montana. Except Stacey’s, of course. She’d been hoping it wouldn’t be necessary to tell Charlie that Blake was staying here. But she should have known Charlie would hear about it sooner or later, if not from Eleanor or Brooke, then from someone else.
