Read Online Blessed are the Meek by Kristi Belcamino - Free Book Online

I’m not super excited about how small the white triangles seem right now. Should have brought my even older, black one-­piece. Too late now. I wrap my towel around me and crack the door.
    Grant is waiting with a big smile when I emerge into the hall. I pull the towel tighter around my chest. I sneak a glance at him. He has on a black Speedo. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
    Somehow, over the past few days, I’ve been thrust into a foreign world where the men wear teeny, tiny European swimsuits. If I brought home a guy who wore a swimsuit like this, my Italian-­American brothers would want to kick his tiny Speedo-­clad butt.
    â€œCan I take your towel?” Grant asks. I quickly shake my head.
    He leads me past the kitchen. French windows reveal a backyard filled with small palm trees and a giant curving pool with at least two waterfalls. About two dozen ­people are mingling around the edges of the pool, some with their feet dipped in the water. Caribbean music is playing, and a light breeze brings with it the scent of barbecue and chlorine. I hear that laughter again and immediately recognize it and search for its source. Annalisa Cruz. Her back is toward me. She dips her head in laughter once again, and I see who has made her laugh.
    Donovan.

 
    Chapter 12
    M Y FACE GROWS warm. A woman in a maid’s uniform hands me a glass of wine and whispers something in Grant’s ear.
    â€œExcuse me for a moment.” I watch him walk away before I dart a glance at Donovan, feeling foolish. Acid fills my stomach, and I realize I am sick with jealousy seeing him with Annalisa. It is irrational, I know, but all I want to do is run away.
    I wonder if I can sneak back through the house and out to my car without anyone’s noticing? But Grant, who is standing at one of the French doors looking at me while he talks on the phone, is watching. Damn. He smiles at me and holds up his finger, gesturing for me to wait.
    â€œGabriella, what the hell are you doing here?”
    Donovan grabs my arm. I jerk away. I didn’t even see him walking up.
    â€œI should ask you the same thing. Thought you were in Sacramento.”
    â€œThat was yesterday. I stopped here on my way home.” His eyes flash with annoyance.
    â€œFunny you didn’t mention it to me.” I turn a little away from him, crossing my arms across my chest, and watch the other ­people having fun. I see a silky head bobbing in the water. Annalisa.
    â€œAnnalisa called this morning.” He lowers his voice. “She’s afraid. She thinks the killer might be targeting her. Someone called her last night, said he was looking forward to her party today. She was hysterical, worried the killer might show up here, so I told her I’d stop by.”
    â€œHow gallant of you.” I take a big gulp of wine and feel it hit my cheeks in a warm rush.
    â€œWhy are you here?” He stares at the ­people splashing and laughing in the pool. “Annalisa didn’t say she had invited you.”
    â€œShe didn’t.”
    Grant appears at my side, slipping between the space I’ve made between Donovan and me. “Gabriella, I’m terribly sorry to have left you alone, but I see you have no problem making new friends.”
    Donovan’s eyebrows lift in surprise.
    Grant looks at Donovan with a perplexed look. “I’m sorry. I know we met earlier, but could you remind me of your name again?”
    Now it’s Donovan’s turn to be pissed. He looks at me, as if he’s waiting for me to explain our relationship. I’m too angry with him. If he wants to sneak around behind my back seeing Annalisa, I figure I don’t owe him anything. We lock eyes. Slowly, I unwrap my towel and, without looking, hand it to Grant. Donovan’s eyes sweep over my body in the skimpy bikini, and the muscle in his jaw clenches. The silence grows.
    Grant frowns. “I’m sorry, your name was?”
    Finally, Donovan