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That was when it hit him. He’d just made love for the first time since his wife’s death.
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As the water poured onto his head, he waited for guilt to rain down on him, as well. For recrimination to strike. When it didn’t come immediately he grabbed the soap. The washcloth. Remembered the incredible sex he’d had with Tabitha. Relived the way he’d felt—and not just physically. He waited to hate himself for it. Still nothing.
Except a peculiar warmth he felt from the inside out. Go figure.
* * *
Tabitha kissed Johnny four times that morning. Not passionate, get-naked kisses, just check-in kisses. Grounding her wires so she didn’t short-circuit. The first time had been when they were standing at the door of their suite, ready to leave. They’d met in the living room, in their Angel’s Food Bowls garb, as always. She’d worried that it might be awkward. That he might want to talk about what they’d done. That she might be embarrassed.
He’d been as great, as always. Normal. With an extra-warm look thrown in. That was when she’d kissed him. And thanked him.
He didn’t ask what for.
She didn’t elaborate—even to herself.
The second time had been right before they opened the window on the truck for business. He’d brushed by her, stopping to press his body against hers just for a second.
The third had been a quickie when they had a moment with no customers.
And the fourth... That had happened when she’d glanced at her watch, seen that noon had arrived and realized they still hadn’t heard from the judge. They’d obviously missed his or her morning calendar. There were five customers in line, all wanting things from her, and it was just too much. Her chest had tightened. Drawing in air had been a struggle. And she’d walked over and kissed Johnny while his hands were covered with meat and lettuce. Because connecting with him made her stronger.
The fact that he didn’t seem to object, no matter how many times they kissed, made it fun. A moment of levity at a grave time.
By two that afternoon, she needed more than a kiss. More than any momentary relief from the tension. Still no word from the judge. No word from anyone.
Matt was back at work and Jason was back at the daycare. If they hadn’t been, Alistair Montgomery would have called. She and Johnny were running the food truck. Neither Mallory nor Braden seemed to be making much use of her list. Other than Johnny’s call to Braden the day before, there’d been no contact with the Harrises.
And she’d had sex with her partner. Her friend.
That morning, their actions hadn’t bothered her all that much. Maybe she’d still been on an endorphin high or something. But as the day waned, as the evening loomed, she started to think about the night ahead.
Would she and Johnny go to their own rooms as normally as they’d come out of them this morning? Would they have dinner out first, so there was no temptation to sleep together again?
She had some say in the matter. A lot of say. She just had no idea what to say. In a perfect world, she’d sleep with him again, but her world was far from perfect and—
Her phone rang.
A jolt shot through her, increasing her heart rate and slowing her breath. Tabitha excused herself from the window, moved closer to Johnny and pulled her phone from her pocket.
“It’s Detective Bentley,” she said softly and then, tapping to answer, spoke into the phone. “Hello?”
The detective introduced himself and she knew the news wasn’t good from his tone of voice. They’d spoken that often. She could tell.
“The judge denied our request,” he told her. “She said the evidence wasn’t compelling enough to impinge on the privacy of a citizen who, other than his similarities to another man, had no indicators of having committed a crime. She wanted some evidence that proved Matt could be suspected of wrongdoing. I’m so sorry, Ms. Jones. I wish I could do more, but...”
Tabitha got through the phone call. She managed some kind of thank-you and a proper goodbye.
“We didn’t get the warrant,” she told Johnny, and then went back to work.
She would go on. She could go on.
She had to go on.
Jackson was still out there. Waiting.
* * *
