Flirting with Disaster (Jackson: Girls' Night Out 2)

She touched his arm. “Ask her if you want. But if she won’t tell you, leave it be. She didn’t come to the mountains to be poked at.”

He nodded, and she smiled.

“I mean, I’m not saying that a little poking wouldn’t be nice, but that’s another thing you’d have to ask her about.”

His face went hot immediately, and when Jill laughed in delight, it only got hotter.

“You’re cute, Tom. You know that?”

“Yeah, I heard that earlier,” he muttered.

“Jill!” Isabelle called out. “What are you doing to our friendly neighborhood marshal? He’s beet red.”

“I was telling him how cute his ass is. Isn’t it cute?”

Tom did his best to ignore the roar of hoots and catcalls that filled the room. Amazing that so few women could make so much noise. He tried not to turn his back on them as he edged toward the kitchen. “I’ll just give the perimeter another check,” he muttered.

“I’ll check your perimeter,” Isabelle offered.

He shook his head and escaped to the kitchen. Jill followed and pushed a bowl of guacamole toward him. “Are you sure you don’t want some sangria? You look like you need it.”

“It’s my first girls’ night,” he said, regretfully waving off the pitcher of sangria.

“You’re not going to hide in here all night, are you?”

He would, but the information he wanted was all in the other room with Isabelle. “I’m just doing a sweep.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

He made it quick, though, giving the women just enough time to start relaxing into their booze, checking the same places he’d checked the day before, lingering for a moment in Isabelle’s bedroom, just in case he’d missed a photo or a letter or memento. He wouldn’t dig through her dresser, but if she’d left out a picture of her parents or a postcard from somewhere far away... Yeah, it didn’t matter. He still felt like shit as he switched off the light and headed back out to the main area of the cabin.

When he hesitated at the doors to her studio, he told himself it was because he didn’t want to switch on the lights and illuminate the entire wall of windows to anyone who could be watching outside. Except that was no real reason to hesitate. It was simple enough to not turn on the lights. The full moon and the snow on the ground meant he had plenty of visibility; it was only that he wanted the comfort of the lights.

But there was one advantage to stepping into the room when it was still dark. The paintings were only vague impressions of lines and darkness, and the photographs weren’t visible at all.

Tom pretended the easels were landscape paintings and walked toward the silver shapes of the windows. He flipped on the porch light and frowned. Nothing. She’d forgotten to replace the bulb. Or someone had unscrewed it. Tom scanned the moonlit porch and stairway, waiting a moment before he opened the door. The bulb was screwed in tight and was dark with burnt dust. He retrieved it and ducked back inside.

“Isabelle,” he said when he reached the living room. She heard him over the music and looked up, her mouth pursed around a strawberry. He held up the bulb.

“Oh, shit,” she said, swallowing the fruit, which left behind a delicious sheen of wetness on her mouth. “I forgot.”

“You?” Lauren drawled. “Forget something? That seems unlikely.”

“Shut up. I have things on my mind.”

“You’re an artist!” Lauren shouted, and the women collapsed into laughter as if they’d said it a hundred times.

“That’s right,” Isabelle said, standing up and looking tall in her boots and tight leggings, her neck stretching up to that upswept hair. “Veronica understands, don’t you? She and I have bigger things on our minds than lightbulbs. Or dinner reservations. Or bills.”

“I just write an advice column,” Veronica said.

Isabelle stepped over her legs and headed for Tom. “Nonsense. You’re a wordsmith. And a painter of the human soul.”

Veronica’s mouth fell open in shock. She shook her head. But when the other two women collapsed against her, laughing, she forced a smile. “If you say so.”

“I do,” Isabelle said with a wink.

Veronica had seemed nervous on the way over, and Tom had assumed it was about the threats in the latest letter, but she hadn’t relaxed since. She was still very much on guard. He caught her eye and mouthed “Okay?”