Page 46 of Jasmine Street Blues

To Florida, with my girlfriend.

That was the truth. Incomplete, but the truth.

He drove toward home, wondering if Loran would still be there. He thought yes, she would wait for him, but given her history he couldn’t be sure. Could he ever be sure of anyone?

Her van was no longer parked at the curb. His heart dropped. So much for we. He shouldn’t be surprised.

The front door was unlocked. Had she just walked out without bothering to lock the door behind her? As he opened the door he smelled something cooking. That scent was a welcome home, and a relief. Even more of a relief, there was Loran, sitting on his couch with Bubbles stretched out beside her.

There were so many things he needed to say, so much he wanted to say. What came out of his mouth was, “The mutt isn’t allowed on the couch.”

Loran glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“He knew,” Mac said.

Bubbles lifted his head, grumbled, and jumped off the couch to return to his bed. Loran stood; they met halfway and she gave him a quick kiss. “Did you have any luck?”

“I did. I’ll tell you all about it later.”

“Do you like lasagna?”

“Who doesn’t?” He considered telling her about the online group he’d found, but the news would just upset her. He liked her just as she was at this moment. Relaxed. Happy. Not thinking about anything but the two of them.

“It’ll be ready in forty-five minutes,” Loran said. “Sorry to run the oven for so long on a hot day, but lasagna is the only thing I know how to make that’ll feed more than one.”

He wrapped his arms around her. She felt good, a piece of home at the end of a shitty day. “When I saw your van was gone, I thought…”

Loran smiled. “You think too much. I can hardly hide out here if my van is parked in front of the house.”

She’d had the chance to run but she’d chosen to stay. For now, at least. “True.”

“I drove to the grocery store, picked up what I needed for the lasagna, parked the van at my house, and walked.”

“Smart,” he whispered. It had been a big deal for her, to leave the house and expose herself in public when Henry was still out there. Did that mean anything? Was she willing to take a chance, for him?

Loran started to unbutton his shirt. “I want to hear all about what you found today, but not right now. We have forty-five minutes, maybe forty-three now. We shouldn’t have any interruptions. The boys have been relieved of Bubbles duty. I think they were actually a little disappointed.”

He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. She laughed when he ran one hand up her thigh as he walked down the hallway. Bubbles didn’t move from his bed, but Mac closed the bedroom door. Just in case.

Loran laughed again as he pulled her dress up and over her head and tossed it aside. She finished unbuttoning his shirt and moved to his belt buckle. The laughter died, but she continued to smile. Oh, what a smile. In minutes they were naked, in his bed, entwined. He’d never wanted anything or anyone the way he wanted her.

A woman and a dog. Carrie. He didn’t think it could be this easy, this good, but for now he was going to take it all.

* * *

Waiting tables was hardly any young woman’s dreams, but it paid the bills. For now, at least. Sometimes Carrie credited pure luck for finding this place, for finding Lila, but more than once she’d given that credit to a guardian angel who might or might not be her mom.

Whoever it was, her guardian angel needed to get busy and do something about the creep who showed up every morning for breakfast, leered at her, and every so often “accidentally” brushed her ass with his hand. She’d been tempted to ask Lila to take care of that table, to see if the guy with “Phil” monogrammed on his work shirt, would leer at a grandmother. She didn’t ask. She’d been on her own too long to surrender to one asshole. Help sometimes came for her in ways she didn’t expect, but she didn’t ask for it.

After this place sold and she had to move on, there would be more creeps to handle. She couldn’t rely on anyone but herself.

It didn’t make her feel a bit better that Phil was a good tipper.

She’d learned to move quickly, to stay out of his way, to spin out of reach. He seemed to think it was a game.

Carrie hadn’t actually complained about Phil, but of course Lila noticed what was going on. She noticed everything.

“I could poison his eggs,” Lila whispered as Carrie joined her behind the counter.