Alison Kent - Goes Down Easy

“Do you want me to turn on the light?” Perry asked.

He shook his head. “No, this is fine. This reporter, Dawn Taylor. The name ring a bell?”

“Not at all, but I’ll ask Della in the morning.”

Morning. Crap. It was the middle of the night. He’d been about to head to the Times-Picayune offices. He stored the paper, waited to switch off the flashlight. “I’ll go talk to Ms. Taylor before I pick up your paint.”

“Paint?”

“For the door. I’m assuming you’ll want blue?”

She gave him another soft laugh in response. “I’ll have to ask Della about that, too. I don’t live here anymore, remember?”

But she had lived here once with the woman who’d raised her. No wonder she seemed perfectly at home. “Do you stay here often?”

“Not really, though I still have a room upstairs. Lately I’ve been here a lot, but that’s because of Della not feeling well.”

“Guess that puts a strain on the business.”

She laughed at that. “Only because we have to scramble to reschedule her appointments. Trust me. Della’s clients are that loyal. They’ll wait. In the meantime, the shop does a great business, and Kachina has her own fanatical following.”

She paused, and when he didn’t respond, she went on, chuckling beneath her breath. “Welcome to N’Awlins, Jack Montgomery. You’re sleeping on the kitchen floor of a woman who’s a local legend.”

A state of things he would never understand.

“Though you know,” Perry continued, scrambling to her feet, her bracelets tinkling, her skirt sweeping over him and the floor. “There is a single bed you could use. It’s around the corner and down the hall from the bathroom. In the utility room.” She held out her hand. “C’mon. I’ll show you.”

He took her hand, not needing the help, just wanting to touch her, and stood. “It’s better that I stay here. The door lacking a lock and all.”

She waved off the offer. “Book has a patrol car making extra rounds, you know.”

“And you know it wouldn’t take a lot of brains to watch and time a break-in,” he said, still holding on to her hand.

She seemed to realize it at the same time, and her fingers stiffened. She pulled free, though with a hint of reluctance, and walked through the dark room to the sink where she washed the dishes she’d left there.

Jack watched her, the unhurried movements of her hands in the running water, the light from the moon spilling through the sink’s window and giving him a better look at the tank top she wore.

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