Hotshot by Julie Garwood Page B

into a spin that she was helpless to control could be considered an intricate move, couldn’t it?
    “Intricate driving moves, huh?” he repeated, smiling.
    “Yes,” she said. “He didn’t get hurt,” she hastened to add. “His car sank into the snow, and he was stuck. I pulled over to make sure he didn’t need an ambulance. I watched him get out and start pounding his fists on the truck.”
    “You saw the shooter?”
    Uh-oh. Too late, she realized she shouldn’t have mentioned that fact because now he was going to ask her another hundred questions. She decided to stop him before he got started.
    “I didn’t get a close look at him, but I’ve got a good idea who he is.”
    He seemed to take the news in stride. “Okay. Who is he?”
    “His name is Rick Parsons, and he works for the company that hired me.”
    He nodded calmly, but she noticed his jaw was clenched. “Since you never reported the incident to the police, he wasn’t arrested.”
    “That’s right.”
    “Why was he chasing you?”
    “Because I left,” she said, evading the details. “They really hate it when you leave the company”—she shrugged—“so they shoot at you.”
    Peyton thought he would think her answer funny, but apparently he wasn’t amused. She was sure he would have kept her there with his questions for the rest of the evening, or until he had the entire story, if a groomsman hadn’t appeared and told him he had to return to the church for photos.
    Finn answered that he would be right there, then opened the car door for Peyton. Before he started back up the hill toward the church, he turned to Peyton and said, “We aren’t finished with this.”

SEVEN
    P eyton dragged herself out of bed early Sunday morning, dutifully went to Mass, then changed into her workout clothes and ran four miles. She stopped for a convenience store Danish on her way back. There were power bars and granola cereal at home, and Lucy would try to push both on her. Her older sister had recently gotten into calorie counting and being responsible about the food she ate. She would be horrified to know that Peyton, with all of her gourmet training, actually liked junk food. Peyton didn’t live on it, but occasionally a bag of salty chips hit the spot. So did Taco Bell.
    She loved her sisters, but both of them had their quirks. Maybe it was all part of being the oldest that Lucy thought she knew what was best for everyone. Her life would be so much happier if only Peyton and Ivy would do what she told them to do. That was never going to happen, of course, and after several weeks of living in such close quarters and being “suggested” to death—Lucy’s way of giving orders—Peyton was ready to pull her hair out.
    Despite being bossy, Lucy was a kind and loving sister who would do anything for her and Ivy. She couldn’t commit the crime, but she’d help bury the body. She was generous to a fault, refusing to take any money to help with the rent or groceries, even though she was struggling financially. Her education was in interior design, and she’d taken a job in a furniture store to support herself until a career opportunity came along. Peyton was going to help pay this month’s rent as soon as she got her paycheck, which meant getting into a major argument. Her sister would carry on something fierce, but Peyton was determined to get her way and do her share until she could find a decent job and move into her own place. She was pretty sure her own quirks were driving Lucy crazy, too.
    All three sisters knew that, in desperate times, they could go home to their parents. They would always be welcomed. Their father would do anything in the world for his girls, and so would their mother. It wouldn’t be a peaceful homecoming, though, for the sisters would be constantly subjected to talks about finding the right man and settling down. Their mother simply couldn’t help herself. In this day and age their mother’s archaic views were almost