“Brent. Wait,” she called, springing up in the air again and again, until she realized it was useless. Sadly, that was more exercise than she’d gotten in a month, and the entire episode left her winded. “We…really…should discuss this.”
“We already have.” He grinned and crossed the room to the roll-top desk.
“You can’t put my phone in there,” she said, aghast. “Your Grandpa Chad might find it. There might be messages…er, photos. Things we wouldn’t want your granddad to see.” Who knew if that was true, but she assumed her sister and Brent had been intimate. They were getting married, after all. Maybe they’d exchanged sexy texts or pictures.
“Really?” Brent appeared intrigued.
Or maybe not?
“I thought you didn’t believe in that sort of thing.”
Her cheeks burned hot. “Oh, um…I don’t.”
Brent pursed his lips. “Anyway,” he said. “I’m not putting it in the desk.”
He reached over the top of the piece of furniture and removed a painting of a sailboat from the wall, revealing a concealed safe.
She watched wide-eyed as Brent deftly worked its big silver dial, turning it to the left, then to the right, then to the left again, until it clicked.
He swung open the door and deposited Hope’s phone on an interior shelf.
Other items crowded the safe’s interior—most of them looked like small velvet sacks.
“Family jewels?” she asked lamely.
He chuckled. “Yeah.” He motioned with one hand, and Hope understood what he wanted her to do: hand over his cell phone, so he could stash it away with hers.
“Brent, honestly. Don’t you think—”
“Fair’s fair. I won’t have mine; you won’t have yours.”
Don’t panic. It was only until Tuesday, and by then Jackie would be there. She reluctantly handed over Brent’s phone, and he placed it in the safe beside hers.
Maybe she could sneak in here later and get her phone back. But how? She wasn’t any good at safecracking. Besides that, as far as she knew, this whole place was wired. Loaded with hidden security cameras everywhere.
She scanned the den, feeling paranoid. Also thinking that she needed to stop streaming so many cozy mysteries in her spare time.
Brent shut the safe, returning the painting of the sailboat to its place above the desk.
“Now,” he said. “How about that lemonade?”
Chapter Four
Brent handed Jackie her drink, sensing that something was off. Something had definitely changed about her; he just couldn’t put his finger on what.
“Oh, thanks.” They stood in the upscale kitchen, which gleamed with marble countertops and stainless steel appliances.
“This kitchen’s so pretty,” she said, glancing out the large window above the farm-style sink that overlooked the rose garden. “So much natural light.”
“Yeah.” He sipped from his glass. “It just got updated last year. My brother Derrick helped with that. He’s got a very good eye for detail.”
“I can’t wait to meet Derrick. I forget, but I know you mentioned it—is he bringing a plus-one?”
He chuckled. “If Derrick had his way, he’d bring a negative-one.”
Her eyebrows knitted together. “What?”
“Long story,” he answered, “but I can sum it up in one word: Olivia.”
“Ah.” Her face registered understanding. “Ex-girlfriend?”
“Ex-wife. Big blowup?” He studied her features. “Don’t you remember?”
She sucked in a breath. “Olivia. Of course.” She took a big gulp of lemonade and set down her glass. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little…preoccupied.”
“No worries. No one’s going to be saying anything to Derrick about it, anyway. The topic of Olivia is strictly off-limits.”
“My lips are sealed. I am sorry, though. Sorry about Derrick.”
“He’s twenty-nine,” he said. “He’s got his whole future to get over it.”
“Yeah, well…” She lifted her glass toward his, and they clinked them in a toast. “Here’s to that.”
Brent studied Jackie’s outfit, noticing for the first time she wasn’t wearing her usual spiky heels. “I know you packed light,” he said. “Any chance you remembered your running shoes?”
“Sure. I always—” She hesitated. “Why?”
He gave her a hopeful smile. “Well…I thought we’d go for a run tomorrow morning.”
She blanched, which was not the reaction he expected. Jackie loved running and was freakishly obsessed with maintaining her daily exercise routine. So much so that she didn’t understand why he didn’t pop out of bed ready to run a marathon every morning. But in an effort to show he’d make a good life partner, he’d decided to give it a try.
“Oh, you know what? That sounds really, really good, but— Aren’t you going sailing?” She looked a little panicked.
“Not until Tuesday.” He eyed her. “The day of your tea party? Remember?”
She slowly sipped her lemonade but said nothing. He knew she wasn’t thrilled with the idea of high tea and croquet—a “suggestion” Grandmother had made that he suspected Jackie agreed to out of fear. If he’d had his way, she would have been out on the boat with him.
“In any case,” he continued, “Mom always makes breakfast around nine. Simple stuff like muffins, yogurts, and fruits… I thought if we head out at six—”
“Six?” Jackie gasped. “In the a.m., you mean?”
“Yes. It’s beautiful here in the mornings.”
“I’m sure it is. But…isn’t that a little early?”
Not based on the schedule she usually kept, but she did seem tired. The drive and the Martin wedding must have taken a lot out of her. “How about we start at six thirty and only do half the usual run? An easy two-and-a-half mile jog sounds pretty good to me.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What?”
He didn’t know if he should laugh or be disappointed at her shocked expression. “Why are you so surprised? I know at least that much about you. If you don’t work out every morning before breakfast, you’re ‘impossible’ the rest of the day.”