The Palm Beach Murders by James Patterson (the read aloud family .TXT) 📕

Brennan asked for a divorce, it was the best thing that ever happened to you. Everything about you has changed. You look like a cover model with those cheekbones and that smile. If you tell me you’re a natural blonde, I might have to stab you with a fork right now.”

I had no desire to be stabbed, so I kept my mouth shut. I appreciated my friend’s attempt to build my confidence. The fact is, I had been going across the bridge and working out at CrossFit in West Palm Beach, as well as jogging on the beach a couple more days a week. My husband, who was six years older than me, had turned forty a few months ago and decided I was too old for him. He may have phrased it differently, but I’m no idiot. It stunned me then and it still stings now. But I was making every effort not to let that loser dictate the rest of my life. As my dad used to say, “Life is tough enough, don’t be a dumbass.”

Suddenly, Lisa was waving frantically at a guy across the room, who smiled and worked his way toward us. He was about my age and got better-looking with each step. In good shape, a little over six feet tall, he was dressed casually in a simple button-down and a pair of jeans. A nice change from the usual show-offs on Palm Beach.

Lisa said, “Christy, this is my friend Martin Hawking. Marty, this is Christy Moore. Isn’t she gorgeous?”

I admit I liked the goofy, shy smile and the slight flush on Marty’s face as he took my extended hand. He had a natural warmth that was intriguing. His short, sandy hair was designed for an active man: it required minimum styling. Before I knew it, we were sitting alone as Lisa got on the scent of a recently divorced gynecologist who was having a few drinks at the other end of the bar.

I said, “I’m sorry if Lisa messed up your evening by dumping you here with me while she went off on the hunt.”

Marty let out a quick, easy laugh and said, “I have to be completely honest. When I saw the two of you walk in and she stepped up to the bar beside me, I asked if she would introduce us. I know her from working on the addition to her house over on the island.”

“Are you a contractor?”

“No, I’m legit.”

He made me laugh, even at such an old joke.

“Actually, I’m an architect. That’s just a general contractor who doesn’t have enough ambition to make any money. What about you? What do you do?”

I wanted to say, Make poor choices in men; instead I said, “I’ll tell you when I grow up.”

“What would you like to do until then?”

I thought about things I did as a kid growing up in New Jersey. My friends and I kept playing the same games but adapted them as we grew older. I said, “I like games.” His hand casually fell across mine on the table and he looked me directly in the eye.

“What kind of games?”

I wasn’t used to flirting. I felt like I was crushing it after being so out of practice. Instead of telling him about some lame game I liked as a kid, I said, “Maybe you’ll get to find out.”

I liked being mysterious for once, and this guy seemed nice and was enjoying it. I couldn’t ask for much more right about now.

Chapter 2

After our margaritas at the Palm Beach Grill, we ended up at the HMF inside the Breakers Hotel. By then we were on our own, and Lisa was firmly attached to the divorced gynecologist. Marty and I just chatted over drinks. We talked about everything. It was easy, light, and fun. I even found myself opening up about my separation and the pending divorce. He told me a little about his own divorce and how his wife had moved to Vero Beach just so they wouldn’t run into each other. It was a good plan.

We threw down some specialty drink at HMS that, as near as I could tell, had vodka, some sort of pink fruit juice, and a lot more vodka. Marty thought we were drinking at the same pace, but I was being much more careful.

I thought hard but just couldn’t find the right words to tell Marty how much I’d like him to come back to my place. In my whole life, I’d never picked up a man for a one-night stand. It was new and a little bit scary to me, but I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t an element of excitement to it as well.

He gazed at me and said, “You have the most beautiful eyes.”

“That’s just the alcohol talking.”

“No, I mean it. All four of them are beautiful.” He weaved his head back and forth like someone pretending to be wildly drunk, and it made me laugh out loud.

That was all I needed to screw up the courage to say, “How would you feel about coming back to my place for a nightcap?”

“How far is it?”

I gave him a look. “It’s in Belle Glade, about an hour away.”

“What?”

“No, Mr. Clueless, it’s here in Palm Beach. No one’s ever more than ten minutes from their house when they’re on this island.”

We grabbed a cab back to my temporary residence at the Brazilian Court Hotel. Although Brennan was beating me out on almost everything in the divorce based on some prenuptial agreement I signed when I really believed he loved me, he didn’t want the locals to view him as a complete jerk, and he had put me up in a nice apartment inside the hotel. The cost meant nothing to him, and at least I had a base of operations on the island.

No one asked questions at the Brazilian Court, and Allie, a girl from my CrossFit class, was the evening clerk there. She gave me a heads-up whenever