Russ said as he set Daphne’s bags—one she’d checked and a small one she’d carried on board—on the throw rug on the wide-plank floor of her bedroom at Carriage Hill. He’d offered to carry them. She hadn’t asked. He didn’t know if she hadn’t thought to or he’d jumped the gun. Either way, he had to establish boundaries with her. Bad enough she regarded him as something of a bodyguard as well as an investigator, but he wasn’t her damn manservant. He didn’t mind carrying her bags, but he wasn’t as loose with the parameters of his job as Julius obviously was, at least with her. She’d gone into the room ahead of him. “You need to free yourself of your preconceived notions about me,” she said, peeking out a window overlooking the Quabbin side of the yard. “How hard was it to get everything in these two bags?” “Almost impossible. I had to leave my sequin Oscars gown at home. I packed some horrible little roll-up jumpsuit thing that promises not to wrinkle.
What do You think about The Spring At Moss Hill (2015)?
