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“Oh,” Cleo said, dropping her chin down. “I’m sorry.”
“I just mean that leaving us, all her kids, was torture. For her and for us. I think my mother’s spirit was there the day Loch had a really bad car accident and could have died. I think she was with Junie at her wedding. But if there was some kind of channel that let her smack us in the back of the head every time we were about to do something wrong, she’d be using it. If she could send us messages and keep us from being idiots, nothing would stop her. So if my mother can’t do it, then Clementine doesn’t worry me at all.”
“That’s actually”—she thought on it for a moment—“really sweet and kind of comforting.”
“But you’re still scared?”
“Maybe there are different ghost rules for people who hack up their whole family with an axe.” She shrugged and offered to cut up some vegetables.
“You can help if you want, but I don’t mind doing it. I’ve missed cooking so much. It’s a relief to have this kitchen.”
“I’ll leave it to you. I never learned a thing in the kitchen.”
“Your parents didn’t cook?”
“Are you prying again?”
“Just a question.”
“We didn’t have private chefs if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Not implying.” He grinned. “Fishing.”
“My mother cooked. I just didn’t spend much time learning. I never felt like it mattered to me. I knew I was going into law. Like since I was a little kid. I didn’t want to be a homemaker. It worked for my mother, but I wasn’t anything like her.”
“You were like your father?”
She laughed. “Is this a cross-examination?”
“Just casual conversation.”
She couldn’t lie to herself. Watching this man cook was sensual as hell. He’d led every conversation with a bullish approach to problem-solving. He was quick to assume everything could be worked out with his fists. But as he delicately chopped the rosemary, she saw a new side to him. Finesse. Skill.
“How do you like it?” he asked as he flipped the meat over and massaged it with oil.
“A lot,” she said, a breath catching in her throat. “Wait, what?”
“How do you like your steak cooked?”
“Oh, medium.”
“Can do. At least if Clementine does take you, you’ll have a good last meal.”
“I don’t know why you think that’s funny. If I’m freaked out here all night, you’re the one who is going to have to suffer. You think I’m going to let you sleep if I’m scared?”
“You have full permission to keep me up all night, any night, for whatever reason.” He reached over and handed her a slab of the pineapple he’d been slicing. “You ever have this grilled?”
“No.” She sucked it in through her lips and let the sweet juice fill her mouth.
“It’s a million times sweeter. You’ll love it.”
Tension was building. There needed to be some sort of icy cool-off like usual. An interruption that might break the growing tension. She could tell he felt it too. Maybe it was time to logic her way out of it.
“What do you expect will happen here tonight?” She drew in a deep breath and took the posture she did when addressing a witness on the stand.
“Uh, what do you mean?”
“It seems like there is some subtext happening here, and I don’t want there to be any confusion. We’re adults, and I’m not interested in games.”
