Take Me Home for Christmas (Whiskey Creek #5)(72)
Author: Brenda Novak

His mother would be disappointed. She’d fawned over Eve for hours at dinner yesterday, no doubt planning the day when Eve would become her daughter-in-law. But all he’d been able to think about was the woman who’d made him the pumpkin dessert he’d scarfed down in the car.

* * *

Sophia woke up with a hangover—and she knew she deserved every ache and pain. What she’d done last night had been such a huge mistake. Giving into her addiction undermined her confidence and sense of well-being when she could least afford it.

“Stupid…” she muttered as she threw off the blanket and looked around Ted’s living room. Fortunately, he wasn’t there. Although he’d taken care of her last night—she could see that he’d put new bandages on her fingers to protect her cuticles and set out two pain tablets and a glass of water—he’d left her to recover on her own. Thank God. Maybe she could slink off and try to forget that last night ever happened.

Sometimes people needed a second chance.

Sometimes they needed more than that.

How many chances had she burned through?

Too many. But this was her first screw-up since Skip had disappeared from her life. Without him, she was actually happier and more in control, despite her other problems. So why would she succumb and wreck her perfect ninety-four-day record? For this?

She pressed her fingers to her throbbing head and told herself she had to remember what drinking was like once the euphoria had worn off.

A creak from above brought her head up despite the pounding inside it. Was Ted getting out of bed? He usually went to coffee on Fridays. She guessed he was walking to the shower.

Staggering to her feet, she used the walls to steady herself as she made her way to the deck, down the stairs and across the yard to the guesthouse.

Only once she was safely home with the door locked behind her could she breathe easier. She didn’t have to work today. Because of the holiday, she had Friday and the weekend off. Hopefully during the next three days they’d both be able to forget that she’d raided the wine cellar.

* * *

Chief Stacy was in the grocery store. Sophia saw him from behind and quickly steered her cart one aisle over. She didn’t want him to see her; nor did she want to talk to him. Her headache had subsided and she felt much improved since she’d doctored her hangover. But she was in a hurry to purchase the things she needed so she could get out of there. Once she’d worked up the nerve to see Ted again, she’d offered to make dinner despite having the day off if he’d allow her to use his car, and he’d pulled away from his computer to get the keys out of his pocket. He’d tossed them over as if it was no big deal, but she couldn’t imagine Eve would be too thrilled to see her driving around town in his Lexus.

She thought she’d escaped Stacy’s notice. She’d already gone through the checkout line, loaded her groceries in the backseat and started the car when he came out of the store pushing his cart. But just as she was backing out, he thumped the side of the vehicle to let her know he was coming up alongside and motioned for her to roll down her window.

Sophia considered ignoring him. She hadn’t done anything wrong. As far as she was concerned, he had no right to detain her. But he was the chief of police. The power he held frightened her enough that she didn’t dare defy him.

“Is there something I can do for you?” she asked.

He glared down at her, making her glad she’d put on sunglasses. It wasn’t warm enough for shades. The clouds rolling across the sun promised rain—maybe snow later on if the temperature dropped. But her eyes were red from last night’s bender, so she’d taken the precaution of covering them. She’d learned, from her years with Skip, how to camouflage just about anything.

“I see you’re not going down without a fight,” he said, gesturing at the car.

“You must be sad that I still have some way to get around, since you were so eager to see me lose my own transportation.”

He spat on the blacktop. “Wasn’t my fault you lost that shiny Mercedes. You weren’t keeping up with the payments,” he added with a facetious tsk.

She glanced in the rearview mirror. There was nothing behind her. She wanted to go, but if Chief Stacy tried to stop her, his cart could scratch Ted’s car. She couldn’t let anything happen to the Lexus while it was in her possession. “What is it you want?”

“Besides what you owe me?”

“I don’t have any money. You know that.”

“You could get five grand for selling one of your eggs to a fertility clinic.”

She felt her mouth drop open. “One of my…eggs?”

“That’s right. A lot of women do it. It wouldn’t even take much time, wouldn’t interfere with your important position cleaning up after the big suspense writer. And think how happy you might make some young couple who can’t have a baby on their own.”

“I could make you happy, too, by giving up the money. Is that it?”

“Why not? Fair is fair. Then we could be better friends.”

“You’re crazy,” she said. “Get out of my way.”

“What’s crazy about doing whatever you can to make things right after squandering other people’s hard-earned money? I’ve never lived in the biggest mansion in town. I’ve never driven the fancy cars you and Skip drove. It’s time to pay the piper, Sophia.”

She clenched the steering wheel that much harder. “No fertility clinic would take one of my eggs.”

“Of course they would. Look at you. You were once the envy of Whiskey Creek. You’ve got great genes!”

“Do I? My mother has a mental illness, and my father died of cancer. I doubt my genes will be worth as much as you think.”

“Don’t give up before you try.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you the person who threw that rock through my window? Who vandalized my house?”

He conjured up an expression of mock innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about harassment. You’re harassing me—and if you don’t stop, there’ll be trouble.”

“Oh, yeah?” He quit pretending. “What can you do about it, huh? Who are you going to tell? No one will believe you over me.”

“You make me sick.”

“The feeling is mutual. Anyone who can walk away from the carnage your husband caused doesn’t have a conscience.”