Chapter 11
“You look sleepy,” he told me. “Your eyes are beginning to close. Your cheeks are wilted. Would you like to lie down?”
“I’m fine,” I told him. “It’s just feels so comfortable here. Cozy.”
“Most say this, Sawyer.”
I thought he would slide against me, closing the short gap between us on the sofa, putting the moves on me with his hands, mouth, and whatever else he intended to use to seduce me. That didn’t happen, though. Instead, he rose from the sofa, walked behind it, and to our coats splayed over the reading chair. He told me, “I was working in the bazaar out back when you arrived. Would you like to see it?”
“I would,” I told him, rose from the sofa, hoping to find a clue or two or three regarding Jase Carmichael’s disappearance, allowing him to lead me astray.
* * * *