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“I’m a friend of hers and I was over this way already. She felt bad about missing your appointment,” John said. “Plus she said you were kind of wacko lately and she didn’t want you driving.”
This earned a burst of laughter from Buck, a sheepish chuckle from John, and a scowl from Grant.
“That’s a bit excessive,” Grant muttered.
“She also said something about you appreciating the irony of a Kaar,” John said with a question in his voice.
Buck laughed again and Grant rubbed a hand across his face. He knew when he was had.
“Okay, okay, I get it,” he said. “I’m the captive now. We’re the captives now. Hope you’re glad you came, Dad.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it,” said Buck. “I appreciate a plot twist. Let’s not keep the lady waiting.”
John’s phone pinged and he pulled it from his pocket. “She made it out of the pool, got the client home, south of Boulder. She expects to be able to meet us at some café near there in about thirty minutes. We should get there around then. Sound good? You both ready?”
“Yep,” Buck answered and slipped from his seat to button his tan Carhartt jacket and pat down his pockets. He checked his phone.
“Since when are you carrying a phone with you?” Grant zipped his jacket and tossed a few bucks on the bar as tip.
“I always bring it when I come down below,” Buck answered. He flipped up his coat collar against the chill. “Gotta see if anyone’s swipe-worthy in the big city.”
Grant choked. “What did you just say?”
“There are a lot of apps these days, Rant. A lot of options. Not everyone needs to be trapped in a bar or a snowbound cabin to meet someone.” Buck grabbed a handled paper bag from below the bar and followed John to the door.
“Meet someone?” Grant wondered if he’d actually squeaked this time. He trailed after his father like a dazed puppy. “Since when are you trying to meet someone?”
“Since when do you care?” his dad asked as he tugged open the tavern door and waved their driver through. “Just because you’re scared to make a move doesn’t mean I am.” He strolled toward John and the car.
Grant stood open-mouthed for ten full seconds before checking his own coat pockets—phone, keys, wallet—and following John to a navy Subaru.
When he reached the car, he found his father in the front seat chatting with John. John was laughing. Grant slid into the back seat with an almost comical knot in his stomach. There was some kind of karmic justice happening here. Actually, karmic justice would be if John took the corner too hard and I was ejected from the back seat.
“Ready?” asked John.
Both Samson men nodded, and John reversed the Outback to exit the parking lot. Fortunately the roads had remained clear despite the abundance of melting and blowing snow. Warmer temperatures had helped, as had road traffic that maintained enough friction on the road to keep ice from building. They made their way to I-70 and took the on-ramp away from Denver.
Small talk normally drove Grant batty, but today the silence was worse. His mind was working overtime, spinning with scenarios and conversations in which he was arrested, subpoenaed, charged, and incarcerated, or with Grant begging Melisa for Melinda’s address, Grant humiliating himself outside Melinda’s bedroom window, Melinda’s restraining order against him, Melisa’s restraining order against him. Frankly, he wasn’t sure which option he dreaded more—Melinda throwing him in jail or hating the sight of him.
He needed to get out of his head.
Odds were she would tell him to keep his distance. It couldn’t be too much worse than that, right? Not that what he had done was okay. He couldn’t believe he let things go as far as they did. If she needed to talk to somebody about it, she should. If she would just—Dammit.
On Sixth Avenue, John flicked the turn signal and pulled onto a side street.
“There’s a café here?” Grant’s head swiveled left and right. “There’s no way this far south is considered ‘outside Boulder.’”
“Rant, there’s so much urban sprawl, Salida could be considered ‘outside Boulder,’” Buck drawled.
“Good one, Dad.” Grant’s eyes narrowed. They were heading west. Something was very off. He pulled out his phone and dialed Melisa.
“Grant?” she answered immediately. “Are you on your way?”
“Yeah. I think we’re turning down a street where you might be.”
“Good,” she said. She sounded strained. “My client had a serious regression into childhood trauma today and I had to transfer her to a place she felt safe, so we went to her place. Her husband showed up and I left, so I didn’t have to stay in Boulder. You’re coming to my place.”
All’s fair in love and Watsu.“Uh, okay, sure. I think we’re here. I’ll see you in a sec.”
