She had, but he couldn’t know that. She made a face at him, and he grinned at her and then toed the toolbox.
“What’s in that thing?”
“Tools, and don’t make fun of my toolbox.”
He leaned toward it, his hand slipping off her leg, leaving her feeling deprived. It was strange how much she found she had missed him. Not just verbally sparring with him, but his touch. She narrowed her eyes at him as he gingerly opened the toolbox as if it might bite him.
“Babe.” One word. He looked up at her. “Really? What the fuck is this supposed to be?” He pulled out one of her favorite tools.
The handle was pink. She really liked it, not only because it fit nicely in her hand but because of the way the rubber felt. “It’s a hammer, you moron. A perfectly good hammer. Since clearly you aren’t in the least familiar with tools, I can go over them for you, name them and their uses if you’d like.”
“Doris, you may need to put your hands over your ears and eyes for a minute so you can’t testify in court.”
“Oh dear, are you going to threaten her?”
“I do want to strangle her occasionally,” Savage admitted, “but right now, I thought pulling her across my knees and paddling her sweet little ass would give me more satisfaction. Unfortunately, the snoop across the street is staring at us with a pair of binoculars, and she’d definitely call the cops on me.”
Doris gasped and glared up at the curtains that were peeled back from the upstairs window facing her house from the one across the street. “Sahara Higgens is a terrible person. She’s always so jealous when Seychelle comes to visit me, and she spies on us.”
Seychelle followed her gaze up to the second-story window. “Does she live alone?”
“Yes, she does. Her boyfriend left her a couple of months ago for someone much younger, and who could blame him? He’s so sweet and tried so hard, but she was always doing everything she could to mess his life up. Now she’s a bitter, nasty woman. She won’t come to bingo or join our sewing circle or even come out of her house. Well, it’s really his house. He lets her live there, even though it’s causing friction in his new relationship, and she’s so ungrateful. He should just evict her. Inez has to have Donny deliver her groceries.”
Seychelle bit at her lower lip. That didn’t sound good to her. Something about the way Doris’s voice sounded when she was telling her about her neighbor bothered Seychelle—sent up a big red flag. “Does she have children, Doris?”
“No, he said she was too vain and didn’t want to mess up her figure.”
Seychelle shook her head several times, rejecting the idea of what Doris was saying. Her mind just couldn’t accept that verdict. Doris sounded like a parrot, as if what she was telling them had been told to her over and over until it was forced into her brain, almost like hypnotism. “How old is she?”
“Maybe thirty.”
“Thirty? I thought you were going to say your age,” Seychelle said. “Her boyfriend left her for someone much younger? How old is he?”
“Well, honey, he hit on you several times. Brandon Campbell. I couldn’t believe you turned him down. He’s so handsome and sweet. He would always come over when she had her screaming fits and apologize to me. We’d sit and drink tea together. He’d ask my advice on what to do with Sahara, how best to handle her. He’s still so good, comes to see her a lot of the time, trying to reason with her. I thought for certain you’d want to go out with him.”
Savage had his piercing blue eyes on Seychelle’s face. She knew she couldn’t keep her dislike from showing on her face. Brandon Campbell was an arrogant bully. Extremely good-looking, charming, almost mesmerizing like a cobra, he’d definitely tried to get her to date him. Or at least sleep with him. When she hadn’t, he had been very cutting to her. She’d seen right through him. He also had a psychic gift that he used, a subtle persuasion, and he didn’t use it in a good way.
“How old was the woman he tossed his old girlfriend out for?” Savage asked.
“I think she had just graduated from high school,” Doris said vaguely. “They aren’t married. They live together.”
“Isn’t he pushing forty?” Seychelle asked.
“Oh, no, dear,” Doris shook her head. “He isn’t that old.”
Seychelle inclined her head. “I’m afraid he is, Doris. He’s a total creeper. You can’t believe a man just because he comes off all charming sometimes. That woman he told you all about, she might just need a friend or two.” She indicated the house across the street. “You say she has her groceries delivered? Does that mean you never see her leave the house?”