Caramel and Magnolias by Tess Thompson

Author:Tess Thompson
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781620150863
Publisher: Booktrope Editions

She was shaking by the time he opened the door to the lobby. “You okay?” he asked, punching the elevator button.

She opened her mouth to talk but nothing came out.

“I told Brent to go on home. I can take a bus home.” He paused, wrinkling his brows. “You're not okay.” The elevator arrived and he stepped inside, holding the door for her. “Come on. I'll get you settled.”

She followed him blindly into the elevator, trying to calm her mind, the adrenaline flowing. She shivered and continued to shake. “I'm sorry,” she said, as the elevator began its slow crawl to the third floor. “I thought I was fine and then when it was over I kind of lost it.”

He put his hand on her shoulder as the elevator arrived at her floor. “Totally normal. You were extremely brave. I'm impressed.”

She took in a shaky breath, leading him down the hall to her apartment and unlocking her door. “I need a drink,” she said, motioning towards the kitchen. “You care for one?”

He shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “Why not? I guess we're done for the evening.” He motioned for her to come closer. “Let's take the wire off you first.”

She felt her breath catch, thinking of his hands on her skin earlier. “I'll take it off in the bathroom.”

“Careful of the tape when you pull it,” he said. “Don't want to tear your pretty skin.”

“I will,” she said, flushing.

In the bathroom, she stared at herself for a moment. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes seemed shinier than normal. Pretty skin? Did he think she was pretty? She peeled the tape from her skin and took off the wire, then headed back into the sitting room.

After she handed him the wire, she went into the kitchen, reaching into the cabinet above the refrigerator for her one bottle of scotch. She poured him a generous amount and grabbed a beer for herself.

“My one indulgence,” she said, walking back into the sitting area. “Good beer.” She held the glass of scotch out to him. “I don't know if this is any good or not. Macallan?”

“Ah, very good.” He took a sip. “Let me guess. A gift from a school parent?”

“How'd you know?”

“I'm a cop. I pay attention to the details.”

“Like actors. Same thing. Kind of.” She indicated for him to sit in the easy chair while she sank onto the couch, shoving off her shoes and rubbing her feet together.

He glanced at the turntable with her rows of vinyl records on the shelf below. “You still have records?”

She smiled, feeling sheepish. “It started out with my mother's collection – she loved music. She left it to me when she died, and it's just continued to grow. I have an iPod too, but this is what I prefer. They're making a comeback, you know.”

“I know,” he said, kneeling down and flipping through the first several: Eric Clapton, John Hiatt, Bonnie Raitt, James Taylor. “You've got some good stuff here.”

“Eclectic. Depends on my mood.

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