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When she stepped off the blanket to join him, he reached out and took her hand, linking fingers. Side by side, they started off paralleling the bluff’s edge.
After they had traveled a ways, he studied her with a sidelong look.
“I admit there are no flowers, only grass, but this still feels good and right.” His elbow bent, raising their clasped hands.
“Are you always this romantic?” Sloan teased, mostly to contain the swirl of emotion within.
His reply was quick and firm. “Not by a long shot.”
She waited, a kind of flatness setting in. When he failed to say more, Sloan prompted, “Aren’t you going to say that it’s different with me?”
“It’s an old line, isn’t it?” His mouth crooked in a knowing smile.
“Very old.” The variations on it were endless. Only a few times had she wanted to believe them. In the end, it hadn’t mattered that it hadn’t turned out to be true.
“I imagine you’ve heard your share of them,” Trey guessed.
“Let’s just say that in my line of work I travel a lot, and I’ve learned to be very selective about where I sleep.”
“I already figured that out,” he told her. “It’s all an old story. Only one thing can make it new.”
He left it at that, offering no further explanation and letting Sloan come to her own conclusion. Only one came to mind, and that was love.
Upon entering the hotel’s private meeting room, Jessy quickly inspected her surroundings, the line of her mouth tightening when she noticed Trey’s absence. An opened briefcase lay atop the table. Its owner sat behind it, only a jacketed shoulder and sleeve visible. A side serving table against the wall held a tray of assorted cold cuts and cheese, a basket of sandwich rolls, and another of chips along with the usual condiments. A second man poured coffee from an insulated carafe into a cup, but he was angled away from the door, preventing Jessy from getting a look at his face.
When she closed the door behind her, a head popped out from behind the raised briefcase lid. The wire-rimmed glasses and short-cropped hair seemed to suit his accountant looks. But, as Ed Walters, head of the investigative agency, had often pointed out to her, spreadsheets and financial records usually provided more information than could be gained from interviewing a hundred people.
“Hi, Jessy.” Ed Walters rose to greet her, extending a hand to shake hers when she approached. “I don’t think you’ve met Doug Avery. He’s been heading up the Texas side of this for me.”
“Good to meet you, Mr. Avery.” Jessy turned to the second man, who could have passed for Joe Average, neither too tall or too short, too heavy or too thin, yet attractive in a nondescript way.
“My pleasure, ma’am.” He gripped her hand briefly, then gestured to the drink selection. “Can I get you something?”
“Just coffee for now,” she replied. “I hope you don’t mind, but to avoid the interruptions of waiters coming in and out, I had the hotel prepare the sandwich trays so we could make our own.”
“To tell you the truth, we’ve already sampled them.” Ed grinned. “We thought it would be easier for you to eat and listen than it would be for us to eat and talk. So, how’s Chase doing these days?”
“He’s still going strong,” Jessy replied truthfully.
“I always picture him sitting in the den behind that big desk of his, and that old map of the Triple C on the wall behind him.” An absentminded smile curved his mouth at the image in his mind. The digression didn’t last long, and he quickly centered his thoughts on the present. “Where’s your son? I thought he was to be here, too.”
“Unfortunately, Trey’s been held up.” Just why or how, Jessy didn’t know, but she intended to find out before the day was over.
“It’s probably all that traffic from the parade,” Avery concluded. “I thought we were never going to get here from the airport. The town’s jammed with people.”
“It always is, on the third weekend in May,” Jessy said as the door opened behind her and Trey walked in.
“Sorry I’m late.” He crossed directly to an empty chair and slipped off his hat. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
“Not at all,” Walters assured him and introduced him to his associate.
“Got caught in that traffic, did you?” Avery guessed as they shook hands.
“Actually, I spilled coffee all over my shirt so I had to go back to the motel at the last minute and change into something dry.”
Which was the truth, as far as it went. Trey simply omitted the part that dealt with Sloan and how easy it had been to lose track of time when he was with her. Indeed, it was where he wanted to be that very moment—with Sloan. The knowledge that she would be leaving when the weekend was over only made that feeling more urgent.
“I suppose you’ll be riding some of those broncs this afternoon,” Walters guessed.
