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He pulls me up.
I didn’t die.
My hands sting and my heart’s thumping way too fast, but at least I’m breathing.
“Randy,” the guy says with a smile. “You are…?”
“Gemma Lafferty.”
I suppose that doesn’t mean anything to him. He cocks his head. “Lost or something? You’re sort of far from town.”
“No, I’m—um—investigating. I mean, I’m a friend of Parker’s.”
He rubs his chin. “A lady friend of Parker’s. Investigating, you said?”
“He mentioned a noise complaint. It’s a long story, but basically I have a duty to figure out what’s going on.”
“A duty…!” His stubble covered chin lifts to the sky as he tilts his head back to laugh. “Love it. Love it. That guy, man, he gets into the craziest jams. Leave it to him to get a girl up here, scoping out his digs. Checking on his story. What, you didn’t believe him?”
I’m not laughing along with him.
I’m too busy leaning over to brush off my knees, one of which is exposed due to a hole in my leggings. Is that blood?
Mopsey gets up off her haunches and sniffs the spot. I have to give her a gentle nudge away so she doesn’t treat my exposed, bloody flesh to more consuming-a-popsicle-style licks.
“I don’t know what to believe,” I admit to the still-chuckling Randy. “I’m here to see for myself.”
He pats his chest. “You’re looking at his noise complaint, babe. Here I am—a five foot nine noise-maker. It’s the snoring that got to him. Guy gives up his couch for me, and I thank him by making a sound like a chainsaw every night. I felt real bad when he said he wasn’t getting sleep. Made me wonder if maybe that’s why my wife kicked me out, too. Food fer thought, you know?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “So, are you his room mate or something?”
“For now. ‘Til Lydia lets me back in the house.Ifshe lets me back in the house. We’re trying to work it out.”
“Hunh.” I swipe the heels of my palms on my tank top in an attempt to ease the burning. It doesn’t work. “Thisisfood for thought. Thanks for filling me in, Randy.”
“Any time, Jamie.”
“Gemma.”
“Right. Hey, you gonna see your man today? Tell him I won’t need his help unloading the truck at the worksite later, like I thought. He’s been a real trooper, helpin’ me out so much. It’s a good guy you got on your hands, Gemma. Good guy. One of the best. Treats his friends like gold.”
“Will do,” I promise.
“Oh, and, maybe I better ask you this, even though those bright pink sneakers you got on make me think you’re not from around here. Think you can keep that bit about me and Lydia quiet? Folks around here get hold of gossip like that, neither of us will hear the last of it.”
“You got it.”
I know a thing or two about wanting to keep a split-up hush-hush. I shake Randy’s hand—ow, ow—and then pet Mopsey on the head before making my way to the car. Even pouring water over my palms doesn’t ease the tingling pain.
By the time I get back to the heart of Pines Peak, I’m regretting a couple things.
For starters, I really wish I didn’t give Parker a hard time about his housing situation. He’s helping a friend through a crisis, for heaven’s sake. That’s honorable.
Secondly, I really wish I didn’t trip on that rock and superman onto a dirt driveway.
Third, I fervently regret not starting my day with at least one cup of coffee.
I might have a vague plan forming about breaking my addiction to jitter juice, but it’s never a good idea to go cold turkey. Better to ease off gradually, right?
