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“Um, nothing after I close up the shop. Why?” I asked.
“I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner at my place. With Rebecca and me. I’m making her favorite.”
“Mac and cheese!” Rebecca exclaimed.
“I’m sure she’ll have a late night at the bakery. Besides, I was planning on coming by with dinner for us anyway,” Charlie said.
“What?” I asked.
“It was going to be a surprise, but I’d hate for you to dine on cheese noodles when I’m bringing your favorite.”
“You mean take out from that diner up the road?” I asked.
I rolled my eyes and brought my attention back to Andrew. Dinner at his house felt like a ruse, like he was somehow trying to just get Charlie to back off. Yet, the idea of having a home-cooked meal with Andrew and spending time with him and his daughter sounded great. I was hoping once Charlie left he wouldn’t rescind the offer.
“I’d like that,” I said to Andrew.
“As would I,” Andrew replied.
“I’m looking forward to your macaroni and cheese.”
“It’s the best in town.”
I grinned up at Andrew and completely forgot Charlie was there. At least, I did until the bell above the door dinged. I whipped my gaze over and watched Charlie march down the sidewalk, throwing his cinnamon roll in the nearest garbage can. I was glad he’d backed down and left.
“Are you okay?” Andrew asked.
I nodded as I wiped my hands off on my apron.
“Yep. Nothing I can’t handle,” I said.
“Then, I’ll go ahead and start taking a look at that oven. It should be cooled off enough by now.”
“Just be careful, okay?”
The sentiment slipped out before I could catch it. My eyes rose to his, and his eyes sparkled with something mischievous. Something daring. Something that made my stomach clench.
“I always am,” he said.
Then, he disappeared, his daughter on his heels with her mouth coated in cinnamon frosting.
CHAPTER 9
CAMERON
“Come on, Andrew. Keep your head in the game.”
Brad tackled me to the ground, and I struggled to get out of his grasp.
“Whatever’s in your mind, block it out. Get out of this hold. I know you can.”
But I tapped out, much to Brad’s dismay.
He was a retired Navy SEAL who had agreed to teach me self-defense. I met with him every morning while my daughter was in preschool. Wednesday through Friday and the Saturdays I needed her to go for one reason or another.
Two hours of my time was spent with him, learning how to defend myself, my daughter, and take down attackers with multiple skills that didn’t require weapons. I had two guns in my cabin, locked away from Audrey’s curiosity. One was a hunting rifle, so I never had to go into town for meat purchases, and the handgun was in a fingerprinted lockbox in my bedside drawer. It had two extra magazines in case those Mafia dickheads came bursting into my place wanting to hurt my daughter.
“Clear your head, Thompson. A clouded mind will get you killed nine times out of ten,” Brad said.
