Now Shelby was dead and Andy was bereft and alone, and soon to be a murder suspect in the eyes of the LAPD.
I sat up in bed. What the hell was this? Where was I?
The sheets were flowered; there was a fluffy rug beside the bed, and the walls were painted a leafy green. Okay, I got it. I was fine.
I was at Colleen Molloy’s house.
It was a good place to be.
Chapter 10
I WALKED OUT of the bedroom. Colleen was sitting at the kitchen table, her back to me, her head bent over her laptop, studying for her citizenship exam. She’d already drained her mug of tea down to the dregs. Yep, this was a good place to be.
I moved her long, dark, very lovely braid aside and kissed the nape of her neck. She turned, closed her morning glory blue eyes, and lifted her face. I kissed her again. I loved kissing Colleen Molloy, never tired of it.
But did I love Colleen? Truly love her? Sometimes I was sure that I did. But then I wondered if I could love anyone, really love them. Or was I too self-centered, too bruised and battered by my father?
She said, “You could get another hour’s beauty sleep, boy-o.”
I took in the Irish lilt in her voice, the black Irish coloring, and how she smelled of rosewater.
“I’m going to be late for my power coffee with Chief Fescoe.” I gave Colleen another kiss and took her mug to the sink. I rinsed it out with hot water and poured her a fresh “cuppa” from the teapot. I hadn’t completely put the murder out of my mind. But I needed to.