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Kindle Notes & Highlights
A man wearing a truly unfortunate pair of plaid pants broke away from the ants and sat on the deck chair next to mine. “Are you all right? Do you want a glass of water?” He had nice eyes. Brown. Like coffee.
Detective Jones smiled. It was the indulgent smile mothers give to toddlers. A smile that said I’ll let you win this battle, but I’ll win the war. It chilled my blood.
The dread coiled in my stomach lifted its hooded head, ready to strike. I tried to drown it with another swig of wine. Getting wet just annoyed it.
Detective Jones met me in the foyer. No plaid pants today but the nice brown eyes were the same. The slow-burn smile was new. The combination was tingle inducing.
I clutched a pillow to my chest, stared into the darkness and wished I didn’t know what I did. But, once bitten, Eve’s apple cannot be returned to the tree. It hardly seemed fair. I hadn’t plucked the damn fruit. I’d had it shoved into my hands then down my throat.
