Page 37
Not his business, he reminded himself. He had no jurisdiction here. Even if he did, the guy wasn’t doing anything illegal at the moment, as far as he could tell.
Still, it niggled at him as he pulled into Hannah’s driveway, parked and rang the doorbell. He kept his gaze on the street a few seconds longer, but by the time he heard the sound of a door latch working free, the truck was gone.
When the door opened and Hannah appeared, he forgot all about any pickup trucks as his heart gave one hard, unwelcome kick.
For half a breath, the years dropped away. He remembered exactly how it had felt to pull her into his arms, to bury his face in that soft hair. The echo of it made his chest ache in a way he did not appreciate.
His grandfather stepped forward and hugged Hannah.
“Thank you for the dinner invite,” Stanley said cheerfully. “I wasn’t really in the mood for fast food.”
“You can thank my mom,” Hannah said, her smile warm and easy. “She’s the one who dropped off the lasagna.”
“We brought garlic bread and salad. Give them to the lady, Wesley.”
Wes winced inwardly. His grandfather was just about the only person alive who still called him Wesley. It made him feel about twelve.
“Here you go,” he said, handing over the paper bags. “The garlic bread only takes a few minutes in the oven.”
“Perfect. Thanks,” she said. “Come in. Carter and Riley are delighted to have guests.”
He stepped inside, the familiar soft scent of her floral shampoo wrapping around him. The house smelled like her and like baking tomato and cheese, and for an irrational second, he wanted to sink into all of it, to let the warmth soak through him.
He focused instead on the nearest neutral topic. “There’s a truck parked out there sometimes,” he said, shrugging out of his coat. “Guy just sits there idling. I’ve seen it a few times. Anybody you know?”
“Is it black with tinted windows?” she asked.
“That’s the one.”
She moved closer to him to peer past his shoulder through the sidelight window, close enough that he could see the fine strands of hair escaping her ponytail, close enough that one shift would have his arm brushing hers.
“It’s not there now,” she said after a moment. “They must have left. But I have seen it parked there before. I assumed it was someone my neighbors across the street might know. I’ve seen it around town a few times, actually.”
He exhaled slowly. Maybe he was imagining things. Maybe he’d spent too long seeing threats around every corner and now a bored guy scrolling on his phone in a truck set him on edge.
“Possibly,” he said. “It’s just a little odd. It’s not exactly the weather to be sitting out in your car and listening to music. If you see it out there again, let me know.”
“What will you do?” She raised an eyebrow. “Yank open their door and ask them to state their business?”
That was precisely his plan, but he kept that part to himself. “Something like that.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” she said. “But if I see anything again, I’ll let you know. Or better yet, I’ll call one of my friends in the Shelter Springs Police Department.”
The thought of her turning to someone else for help annoyed him, as irrational as that was.
He didn’t have a chance to respond before Carter and Riley barreled into the entryway, shrieking with delight at the sight of Kodiak. The dog’s tail wagged harder than it had in days.
Within seconds, Wes’s jealousy over hypothetical local law enforcement officers was drowned under the chaotic sound of kids laughing and dog nails clacking on hardwood.
“Your house looks very festive,” Wes said a few minutes later, once coats and boots had been dealt with and the kids and Kodi had been herded toward the living room. Her cats, he saw, had come out to investigate the newcomer and immediately Kodi fawned all over them.
“Thanks,” Hannah answered with a bright smile. “I didn’t have a lot of Christmas decorations before this year. I’ve been in a condo until this summer and there wasn’t much room for storage. But I picked up a few things and then the kids have helped me make more. I think they did a great job. I love the snowflakes.”
He looked up. Dozens of white paper snowflakes dangled from nearly invisible threads across the ceiling of the living room and dining area, twirling lazily in the warm air from the vents.
Each one was different. Some were lacy, delicate while others were a little rough and lopsided. Still, all of them caught the light and made the whole room feel like the inside of a snow globe.
He noticed other touches too. A construction-paper chain, clearly made by the children, looped across the curtain rod. Handprints turned into reindeer on a framed piece of cardstock. Everywhere he looked he saw greenery and festive touches.
