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She tugged her hand away. She needed to run before the panic attack took full control of her. She stood and darted to the kitchen, calling back, “Want some ice cream?”
Josh’s hand felt cold without Chloe’s. She’d disappeared down the hall. But he wasn’t fooled. He looked at Poirot. “Guess I should go after her?”
The dog lifted one eyebrow as if to say “good luck with that.”
Josh stood and followed her.
“I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick. Be right back.” She disappeared into the master bedroom off the kitchen.
He deflated a little. He really thought they were getting closer, that something was happening, but he recognized what had just happened. As a medical professional, how could he not?
In the kitchen, he searched the freezer. She only had caramel praline. “Good choice.”
He set it on the counter and found bowls and spoons but couldn’t find the ice cream scoop. He knew she had one.
From around the corner, Chloe reappeared slowly.
He closed the drawer he’d been searching and walked around the island to her. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he said, “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head and fingered the zipper of his hoodie.
“I’m here for you.” He moved his right hand and gently lifted her chin until she met his eyes. “Ice cream?”
“Yes.”
He stepped back and let her do her thing.
“Thanks for pulling stuff out. I know it’s silly to eat ice cream in December, but—”
“Ice cream is never silly.”
Her bright smile returned. “And I’ve got blankets.”
“Then we’re set.”
She dished out the ice cream, and her cell phone rang. “Hello. Chloe Jacobs. . . . Hello?” She set the phone back down. “That was weird.”
“I hate it when people do that.”
“Seriously, if you’re going to call an introvertandthey answer, the least you can do is say ‘hi’ back.” She put the final scoop in the second bowl.
He chuckled.
Her phone rang again.
“Same number?”
“No. Weird.” She pressed the green button. “Hello. Chloe Jacobs.” She handed him one of the bowls and listened to the person on the other end.
He set the bowl down and put the ice cream away.
“Yes, that would be wonderful.” She grabbed a notepad and pen from the middle of the island. “Sure. Can you email me the—oh, that’s fine. Um, sure. Can you give me the address and—yes.” She jotted some notes down. “Tomorrow. Yes, I’ll see what I can set up and get back to you.” She took a few more notes and asked a few more questions before she hung up.
“New client?”
“Yeah, but weird. They don’t have an email. How does anyone in the twenty-first century function without an email address? Whatever. I need to take care of this real quick. Sorry.”
“No big deal. I’ll go back to the living room. Are you up to a movie?”
