The Journal: Fault Line (The Journal Book 5) by Deborah D. Moore Page A

headed over to
the Main Street store.
    “Adele, this is your lucky day. I’m going to
take over for a few hours,” Trevor said to the middle aged woman at
the counter. “Do you have your timecard up to date? Payday is also
early.”
    “Gee, boss man, what’s up?”
    “I need to do a private inventory of all the
stores. I will give you a call when I’ve got the new schedule set,”
he said, taking her work sheet into his back office. He quickly ran
her hours and figured what she was due, and then he doubled it to
make up for the coming lost hours. He counted out the cash from the
pouch from the other store and slipped it into a plain
envelope.
    “Is something wrong, Trevor?” Adele asked
quietly.
    “I’m not sure,” he said. “Pay is in cash
today, and I added enough for next week too. Now go home and enjoy
the nice weather.” He escorted her out the front door, promptly
locking up with the frown she couldn’t see. He lowered the blinds
and the security gates like he did the other store, then emptied
the register and turned out the lights.
     
    ***
     
    “What’s going on, Trev?” Riley asked when
Trevor arrived at the Spring Hill store. This was his first and
therefore favorite store. Besides, he lived in the apartment above
it.
    “I’ve got a bad feeling about what’s going on
because of the earthquake, so I’m shutting down for a week or two
until things quiet down.”
    “Seriously? Wow, man, you’ve never done that
before. You must be really worried.”
    “Not real worried, although enough to
take some precautions,” Trevor admitted. He flipped the open sign
to closed and started locking the security gates. “Lower the blinds
for me, will ya? I’ll get your pay.” He disappeared into his office
with the register receipts. He already had an idea of Riley’s pay,
so he didn’t bother with the time sheet. Stuffing an ample amount
of cash into an envelope, he found his employee putting on his
jacket by the back door.
    “Here you go, Riley. There’s extra to make up
for the lost wages,” Trevor handed him the hefty envelope. “Before
you go, take a couple cases of beer with you as a bonus.”

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
     
    Christine towel dried her
hair, combed out the tangles, and then fluffed it with her fingers
to help it dry. Tightening the belt on her robe, she headed to the
kitchen to find something to eat. The front doorbell rang, followed
by a loud knock. She looked through the peephole and even though
the view was distorted, she could see it was Trevor and opened the
door cautiously.
    “Oh, there you are,” he said sheepishly.
“When you didn’t answer three calls I got worried.” He looked into
her blue eyes and couldn’t help but drop his gaze to the open V of
her robe and then all the way down to her bare feet. He looked
away, embarrassed. “I… I… I brought some dinner.” He met her eyes
again and she smiled, opening the door for him to come in.
    Trevor set two pizza boxes down on the
kitchen table, along with a bag from the sub shop, a six pack of
beer, and another bag with two wine bottles.
    “That’s a lot of food, Trevor. Are we
expecting company?” Christine laughed nervously, and swallowed
hard, knowing she was naked under the robe, and knowing that he
knew that too. “Why don’t you set the beer in the fridge? I’ll be
right back.”
    She hurried out of the room.
    Once in her bedroom she ripped off the robe
and put on the first t-shirt her hand came in contact with, along
with a thin pair of sweat pants, and rushed back to the
kitchen.
    “I’m sorry to have surprised you, Christine,”
Trevor apologized. “I don’t normally just show up at someone’s
door.”
    “Then why did you?” she asked curiously.
    “Like I said, you didn’t answer your phone
and I got worried.” He busied himself opening the pizza boxes and
setting out the sandwiches. “Would you like a beer or some wine?”
He was obviously nervous.
    “Beer and pizza sounds pretty