The Lottery Winner by Emilie Rose Page A

out. She didn’t know what to do.
    The pot’s last gasp and the ringing of her phone filled the kitchen simultaneously. Staring at her brother’s number on the screen, she stood frozen. She wasn’t up for doom and gloom today. But if she didn’t answer, she’d only be delaying the inevitable. A second peal jarred her into action.
    â€œHey,” she said into it.
    â€œDid I wake you?”
    â€œNo. I just haven’t had coffee yet.” She pinched the phone between her jaw and ear and reached for the biggest mug she could find in the cabinet. She’d never needed coffee to jump-start her day BTW.
    Before the win.
    â€œYou all right, kiddo?”
    â€œSure. Just trying to decide what to do with another day in paradise.”
    â€œSarcasm? That’s not like you, Li’l Bit.”
    No. It wasn’t. She yearned to tell Brandon about the creepy customer. He needed to know. If something happened to her, the stranger would be where he needed to start his investigation. But, tangled in her web of lies, she didn’t. Instead she asked, “What’s new in peach country?”
    â€œMom bought her pistol yesterday. It’s pink, for crying out loud.”
    The disgust in his tone made her smile. “Leave it to Mom to turn something she’s going to hate carrying into a fashion statement.”
    â€œNo criminal is going to take a pink gun seriously.”
    â€œThe bullets will work the same way, right?”
    Silent seconds ticked past. “Wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Grumpy?”
    Jessie grimaced. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œI know you’re frustrated with being away for the holidays, but try to be aware of how many thousands are flocking south and how many of them could have seen your face all over the news.”
    â€œI’m a brunette now and I’m wearing brown contacts. No one will recognize me.” He needed to know that, too, if she went missing.
    â€œSmart. But still, keep out of sight.”
    â€œRight,” she mumbled then tuned out the rest of his familiar speech while she filled her mug then took a sip.
    â€œJessamine? Are you listening to me?”
    She snapped to attention. “Of course.” Another lie. “I need to get started with my day. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
    It was only after she’d hung up that she realized she hadn’t asked if he’d changed his mind about her returning home. What was the point? She knew the answer.
    She grabbed her mug and the thermal coffee carafe and shuffled outside. The Key deer scampered from beneath the deck and into the foliage as she descended the stairs. The crushed shells beneath her feet were neither cool nor warm on this balmy seventy-degree morning. Back home it would be at least forty degrees cooler now.
    She made her way toward the pier, pausing to sip her brew and glance over her shoulder. The sun peeked above the rooftops across the street, spreading a sherbet glow of pinks and oranges across the sky. Pretty and very different from last night’s stormy sky. At the moment, she didn’t have the delicate touch needed to work on a watercolor. Later, if she felt human enough, she’d bring out her paints and attempt another picture of...something. What hadn’t she sketched or painted yet?
    She turned back toward the dock and spotted two sinister fowl squatting on her turf. Today, she was in no mood to let them get away with it.
    â€œShoo!” she shouted and stomped on the boards, spooking the creatures from their perches. She sank onto a lounge chair, ignoring the dew dampening her pants. Her goal: to sit, soak up the sun and drink coffee until she figured out her next move.
    Should she go back to work or play it safe?
    She’d made it halfway through her bucket-size mug and still hadn’t made a decision when her cell phone rang again. She groaned. Brandon must have forgotten to issue one of his daily dire