Apples, Appaloosa and Alibis by Maria Swan (cheapest way to read ebooks txt) 📗

want this place? Better put it in writing. Residential real estate business is not very receptive to verbal offers.

When I arrived back at the office Kassandra peeked from the kitchen doorway. “Oh, it’s you. We have take-out pizza coming. Want some?”

I shook my head, wondering who we could be. Probably Scott.

The idea of picking up Tristan at the airport had me all edgy, in a good way. What if he didn’t call me from Philadelphia? He should... he would. Clear your mind, Monica.

The office was so quiet, like no one was there. I could hear the printer in the back. Well someone was working. Good. With a little bit of luck, I could be the next agent printing out a nice contract for Greg Coste.

Kay sneaked up on me on her way to her private office.

“Hi, Kay, were you the one using the printer?”

She nodded and waved a stack of printed pages. By her smile it must have been a good one. Then again, most of Kay’s deals were in the six figures and up. She was our top agent and rightly so. She left a delicate trail of perfume as she walked by.

Thirty minutes later I was heading home, the long way, so I could drive by Tristan’s house even if he was somewhere up in the sky on his way to Philadelphia. I ended up buying chicken nuggets and fries at the Paradise Valley Mall food court.

He called at seven-thirty. He had an American Airlines flight to Phoenix. No time to talk, still rushing through customs and needing to get to the gate at the opposite end of the terminal. Again he reminded me he would get an Uber ride once he landed and would call me from home if I didn’t mind him waking me up. I went along feeling like a criminal because I knew I was lying to him. I would be at the airport to pick him up, like it or not.

The minute he hung up I went to work, finding the flight was a breeze—thank you, Google—there was only one American Airlines flight out of Philadelphia headed to Phoenix, due to arrive at Sky Harbor at two a.m., Terminal 4. He would be so surprised to see me, I had to plan this right. I could park in the cell phone waiting lot east of Terminal 4 and keep an eye on the electronic flight information display. Once the flight landing showed up on the board, I could give him ten minutes to deplane before starting to call his cell. What was he going to do? Tell me to go home? Of course not. Finally, something to smile about.

With about six hours, I had plenty of time to take a nap, wake up, shower, dress and drive myself to the airport. Wait, what was I going to wear? Jeans? Skirt? I could hardly stand all that excitement. Time to go inspect my closet and make sure my cell was fully charged, this was going to be perfect, absolutely perfect. I mean, what could go wrong?

SEVEN

ON MY WAY to the airport. And for once, I didn’t begrudge driving the leased SUV. It offered plenty of room for Tristan’s luggage. I had also brought along the plushy throw Brenda gave me two Christmases ago because even in the desert, the February nights were cold, and I didn’t want to keep the engine running for a long time. The airport waiting lot looked mostly empty, only two other cars parked in different rows. I kept my eyes on that electronic board, praying I didn’t fall asleep. That would be terrible, missing Tristan’s arrival. I had to catch him just as he got off the plane on his way to luggage pickup, before he could get a chance to contact Uber.

Time passed slowly, the car windows fogged up, and the numbers on the electronic display got fuzzy. Two flights still showed as active, the one coming in from Philadelphia and another flight arriving from Chicago, only ten minutes apart.

I should have brought something to drink, something warm with caffeine. All I had was the lukewarm water bottle and as a distraction the waistband of my tight-fitting jeans that cut into my middle like a tourniquet. Suppose the flight got cancelled. No, no way. I checked before leaving the house.

Stop it, Monica.

And just then, Tristan’s flight posted Landed, brightening the board and my disposition. That was the shot of adrenaline I needed. I looked at the time on my cell, made sure everything worked. My hair—must comb my hair. Then I checked my mascara and my lipstick in the rearview mirror. I could touch that up. In all the excitement I dropped the lipstick tube. It rolled under the driver’s seat. No, no... not now. Forget the lipstick, I’ll look for it when I get home. Home? Suddenly the thought I had been avoiding for the last ten hours caught up to my conscious mind.

Tristan would have to be dropped off at his house. A very empty house, we would be alone, for the very first time. No dogs, horses, no Angelique. No interruptions. A blessing or a curse? Was that the real reason I had insisted on picking him up? Clear your mind, Monica. Focus. I thanked the power above for autodial, without it, I would never have managed to get Tristan’s number entered correctly, not with my whole body shaking. Excitement or fear?

“Fiat?” He had recognized my number. His voice gave me goosebumps up and down my spine.

“Uh, yes... uh, can you please not get Uber? Please? Because, uh, because I’m here.” I spit it out in one breath and waited.

“You are—here—where?” Even in my state of idiocy I could tell Tristan was walking as he spoke.

“Um, right now I’m idling at the cell phone waiting lot by Terminal 4, but in five or ten minutes I will be parking at the curb of the American Airlines arrivals, north side of the terminal, you know, by