Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
She looks at him, then looks at me. I keep my hands moving on the cutting board because I’m not going to be the one who answers a question her father asked her.
Josie sighs and says, “All right. I’ll tell you what I can.”
Bill settles in and listens quietly without interruption as Josie tells him about the Voronin case and how Jameson was hired to help. She moves without pause into her stakeout at the docks, and I’ll give her dad credit, I see no signs of distress when she tells him she got captured other than a slight tightening of his grip on the coffee mug. She tells him that I fished her out of the water and then only mentions that there’s the fear that Voronin’s men are looking for her since there’s no proof she died.
She doesn’t say anything more about me and Bill doesn’t ask. When she finishes, Bill lets out a gust of pent-up air, his eyes drifting over to me. “You were out on the water that night and you saved her.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll never be able to repay you,” Bill says with a thick voice.
“No repayment needed.” I let my gaze drift to Josie. “My life got better that night.”
“Be that as it may,” Bill says, and the hardening in his voice has my skin tightening as his attention returns to me, “I am going to ask why you were on the water at that time of night.”
Josie cuts in before I can answer. “Dad… that’s one I’m going to ask you to leave alone.”
Bill looks at her. “Josephine.”
“Leave it,” she says sternly, like trying to train a puppy to leave a stick alone.
They engage in a staring war, but eventually Bill nods. “Okay, fine. And truth be told, it doesn’t matter what he was doing out there.” He turns his entire body my way, eyes locking on mine. “He pulled my girl out of cold water and brought her home alive. As far as I’m concerned, son, you’ve got a permanent line of credit with me on the question of why you were where you were.”
I stare at him a long beat and then nod, a silent thank-you.
Bill picks up his coffee, takes a long sip and sets it down. His attention goes to Josie, who’s smiling at me.
“Now,” he says. “Let’s talk about you leaving Seattle.”
Her head snaps his way. “Dad—”
“I have a friend in Santa Fe with a guest house and a long driveway. We can be on the road in two hours.”
“Dad.”
“Or I can take you to Maui. I have miles. You can sit on a beach and pretend to be a tourist until your people put this guy in a hole.”
“Dad.”
“Josephine.”
“No,” she says with a huff.
Bill looks at me. “Help me out here.”
I hope my expression is as pained as my heart. “I’ve tried, Bill. I really have.”
I get a look of disappointment from the man whose approval really means everything.
Shit.
Bill turns back to Josie. “Honey—”
“No,” she says again. She sets her coffee down and takes her dad’s hand. “I’m going to say this exactly once and then we’re going to talk about something else or I’m going home.” Her eyes land on mine briefly so I understand I’m involved in this as well. “To my house. By myself.”
“Josie—” her dad chides.
“I’m not leaving Seattle. I’m not going to Santa Fe. I’m not going to Maui. I’m not running. There are women being trafficked through the Sound and I’m going to help put this man away. Are we clear?”
Bill stares at his daughter with a mixture of frustration and pride. “All right.” He picks his coffee back up. “I had to try. I’m your father and that’s the job.”
“Thank you,” Josie says, offering him a forgiving smile.
“For the record, I think you’re being stubborn.”
She rolls her eyes. “For the record, I learned it from you.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“For the record,” her dad drawls, “that is also true. Now, are we eating breakfast or are we just going to sit here and look at the cutting board?”
I get the omelets going and Josie pulls plates down from the cabinet. Bill, without being asked, finds the silverware drawer on the first try, and the father-daughter duo joke with each other as they set the table by the window.
Josie pours juice and I plate the omelets and the three of us sit down like a family to eat.
It’s surreal… the familial experience, but I realize that I’d hand over every painting I’ve ever moved to keep this.
I’d hand over the gallery.
I’d hand over the boat.
My priorities have changed over the course of cooking omelets.
I just need to figure out how to change things.
CHAPTER 20
Josie
There’s a chicken roasting in the oven and a pot of boiling potatoes on the stove. The lemon’s been zested and the zest has been pressed into butter that’s softening in a ramekin. The potatoes are on a baking sheet, coated in olive oil and sea salt, and the green beans are blanched and waiting in an ice bath.