“I’ll be fine.” He took the napkins and blotted the kilt. “Though I can’t say the same for Mrs. Callister. That nuisance has to be stopped. By calling respectable women whores, she’s gone too far this time.”
“More inferred,” Jennifer said as if trying to downplay the seriousness.
“And I never thought that about ya,” he said.
“She’s said worse about others. She tried to imply my boss is in witness protection from the mafia and running drugs out of the back room. I don’t think anyone believes her. I actually kind of feel sorry for her. She must be lacking something inside to feel the need to lie about her neighbors like she does.”
“That’s very understanding of ya,” he said. “Still, something needs to be done.”
A car passed, and she stared at the driver through the window, turning her head to watch the vehicle. “Turn toward the Crimson Tavern, then keep going. My place is pretty much a straight shot from there,” she said.
Rory smiled to himself. She might be relaxing around him. Though he couldn’t fault her for being cautious. Women living on their own needed to take extra precautions. He had to remind himself that humans were not like warlocks. As a human, she would have been very shaken at having woken up in a motel with no idea of how she arrived there. In contrast, when Rory woke up tied to a tree with no memory of his abduction, he had felt like it was another family prank.
Whoever had bespelled her might try again. He needed to protect her.
He turned the corner and drove past the tavern. “Maybe ya should stay at my family home for a while or the motel if you’re more comfortable.”
“That’s a…” She frowned, studying him. “Either a very inappropriately strange or a very kind offer. Either way, no thank you. I have a home.”
“I don’t seem to be articulating myself very well this morning.” He gave a small laugh. “Maybe I shouldn’t have spilled that coffee since it sounds like I need it. What I meant to say is, if ya don’t remember what happened, it might be a case of better safe than sorry. My sister won’t charge ya for the room. I can drive ya back there after ya pick up some of your belongings if ya like.”
“I appreciate the kind offer, but I’ll be fine,” she said. “You can stop here.”
Rory pulled over to the curb. There were several houses in the neighborhood.
Jennifer opened the car door and put one foot outside the door. “Thank you for the ride and for helping me out last night. If you’re ever at Crimson Tavern, I’ll buy you a plate of nachos.” She got out of the car and shut the door.
Rory watched as she went to the sidewalk. He was going to make sure she got home safely, but she stood staring at him. She lifted her hand in a small wave, and it became clear she wasn’t going home until he left.
With a sigh, Rory gave a small wave of his fingers and obliged. He pulled away from the curb and watched her through his rearview mirror. She didn’t move as she waited for him to turn out of sight.
“I will be seeing ya again, lassie,” Rory whispered. “That is a promise.”
Chapter Six
Jennifer popped the lid off her coffee and took a long drink. It was more for the caffeine than the taste. Half was gone when she finished, and she put the lid back on for the walk home. She was about a block away from her trailer. Since she didn’t want Rory following her there, she waited another minute to make sure he didn’t turn back.
There was nothing wrong with where she lived. Sure, it wasn’t a mansion on a hill overlooking town like royalty over its flock, but it was hers for now. She paid her rent, kept it clean, and when she was inside, she was safe from the outside world.
Even now, Jennifer felt the simmering anger that surfaced when she was near him. In the car, it had become difficult to concentrate on anything else. She had done her best to be polite, if not nice to him when she had really wanted to throw her hot coffee in his face.
Jennifer felt terrible for her unwarranted feelings. Violence was not in her nature. That rage was reason enough to stay away from him.
“If you’re ever at Crimson Tavern, I’ll buy you a plate of nachos,” she mocked herself under her breath. Why the hell didn’t she say thank you and leave it at that? She couldn’t see him again—not with her irrational temper.
Had he done something to her, and was this her body’s way of reminding her of an event she couldn’t remember? It didn’t feel like that was the case, but then, she’d been unconscious. How could she know?
She cut between two houses to where the trailer home was parked near an alleyway. The light blue paint covering the bottom half of the unit was chipped and dirty. Someone had painted the top half white much more recently. Lattice covered the bottom edge of the trailer to hide the fact cinderblocks supported it. Bowed stairs led to a windowless front door. A pair of double doors were a few feet away from it, but they had been bolted shut long ago and no longer provided a way in or out of her bedroom.
Jennifer reached into the front of her shirt and pulled a chain from around her neck. It held her house key. She glanced around before unlocking the door. Inside, brown carpet and beige walls created a bland palette. A blue couch had been there when she’d moved in. The middle cushion sank lower than the two that flanked it. The small television didn’t get reception, but the built-in VCR worked. She could watch movies from the 1980s collection someone had left behind in the bedroom closet.
One picture hung on the living room wall of Jennifer with her father and brother. Presumably, her mother had taken it.
“Hi, guys. How was your night?” she asked the photo. “Mine was…”
She let her words trail off with a deep sigh. Somehow talking to ghosts seemed too sad this morning.
The living room led to a small kitchen. Jennifer put her coffee cup on the counter and emptied her apron next to it. Then she dug into the food bag. They had messed up her order, but in the end, it didn’t matter if it was a sausage biscuit or a bacon one. It was food in her stomach.
She ate the biscuit on her way down the hall, holding it in her mouth as she stripped out of her smelly clothes. A portable washing machine used for camping was outside her bathroom door. A water hose was hooked up to the bathroom faucet, and the drain hose disappeared into a hole in the floor, filled with caulk. It made it impossible to close the bathroom door, but it hardly mattered since she lived alone. Shoving her work clothes and apron into it, she started a fast-clean cycle.
Her clean uniform had dried on the shower rod, and she pulled the items down before starting the shower. The routine was automatic, and she had shampoo in her hair before she’d even thought about what she was doing.
Today felt lonelier than most. It started as an ache in her chest, squeezing her throat. She closed her eyes and let the water hit her face to hide any tears that might try to fall.
Seeing Maura, Rory, and Bruce had reminded her what it had been like to have a family. Their closeness was evident in the way they teased each other. The anger she’d felt faded. Rory seemed like a nice guy. He’d given her a ride, bought her breakfast, didn’t leave her unconscious in a forest. All of those were very nice-guy things.
Then why the rage?