Autumn Leaves by Kathleen Y'Barbo

Author:Kathleen Y'Barbo [Y'Barbo, Kathleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-08-27T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

True to her word, Autumn—he’d decided to call her that since he couldn’t exactly tell her he knew her name was Skye—arrived on his doorstep at exactly seven o’clock with the mysterious cake in her hands.

Before long they were seated at the little table where a feast of grilled steaks, baked potatoes, and salad crowded into the space between them. He’d opened the windows to the sea breeze, and thanks to the screens, the bees weren’t stinging.

“Oh, look at that. You can see the Gulf from here.”

He nodded. “That’s why I rented this place.” When the rent on his previous apartment had gone up, this place had seemed like a hidden blessing.

It had been a boon that she’d lived next door, too—it was much easier to keep tabs on her with the close proximity. But he didn’t say that, of course.

“There’s a spot on my porch where, if I lean just right, I can see it.” She sighed. “There’s just something about looking at the water, isn’t there? I love it here.”

“I’d rather be in it, but yeah, looking at it is the next best thing. So,” he said, “have you always lived in Galveston?”

“I’ve lived all over, really. Mostly Texas, although I spent time in California.”

“California’s nice. The surf’s great out there. Nothing like the piddly waves we get here. But hey, if you can surf in Galveston, you can surf anywhere. I spend a lot of my free time down in Port Aransas.”

He was babbling. Nate Donahue didn’t babble. That went against everything he’d learned, because a babbler was the worst kind of investigator.

He reached for more salad even though his bowl was still full. This woman intrigued him, and not just because his assignment had him following her but learning very little about her. He’d been given a number to trace and then an address where she lived.

All he was supposed to do was report back on her comings and goings and then call the job done. It was absurd that somewhere between days four and five, he’d fallen for her. Not in that weird crush-with-a-stranger kind of way, but rather in that I’m-interested-in-you way.

Because he was. Interested.

“So, Nate,” she said as she speared a piece of steak. “Are you BOI or did you get here from somewhere else, too?”

“No, I wasn’t born on the Island,” he said. “Though we came here enough when I was growing up that I felt like this was home more than my actual home. Then my actual home . . .”

Nate paused. Why was he telling her any of this?

Because she was easy to talk to.

“Anyway,” he said. “Enough about me. How’s your bee sting?”

“Better,” she said. “What about your nose?”

“Fine, although I think my shirt’s a total loss.”

“It’s just a little blood,” she said. “Douse it with hydrogen peroxide before you put it in the wash. It’ll be fine.”

“Impressive. How do you know this?”

“One of my foster moms was a nurse.” She paused. “Apparently getting blood out of clothing is a hazard of the profession.

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