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“No,” she said slowly. “It just feels like there’s a lot hovering just out of sight. You know? Stuff we know nothing about. Who was here last week? Why haven’t they been back? Was that vagrant really just at the compound for the food, or is there something more going on? Who was the woman you saw at the compound, and what’s her story? Is she involved in all this? Could your Mel have started the fire?”
“For the record, I don’t think it was Mel,” Brody said slowly. “I didn’t get that vibe from her. But it was damn suspicious that the fire started shortly after she expressed interest in buying it.”
“She wouldn’t have any reason to kill Ron, though,” Lainey pointed out.
“As far as we know.” Brody shrugged.
She sighed and flopped back against the cushions. “I’m going to go through those boxes of Ron’s this weekend. If you still want to help, I’d like you to be there. But if you have plans, I understand.”
“No plans. I’ll have some work to do, but my chores won’t take all weekend. Should we tackle those boxes on Saturday morning before Phoebe comes home?”
“Yeah.” Lainey nodded. “That’s what I’d planned.”
“It’s a date.”
* * *
Lainey’s heart pinched a little when she dropped off the duffel bag and sleeping bag at Ashley’s house after work the next day. She enjoyed meeting Ashley’s mother, and was reassured that Karen would be supervising the sleepover. But as she got into her car, she sat for a moment, gripping the steering wheel, her eyes watering.
After a moment, she straightened her shoulders. Sniffled. It was just an overnight, for God’s sake. She wasn’t abandoning Phoebe.
It just felt that way.
Rolling her eyes at herself, she started the car and headed toward The Flying J ranch. Is this how parents felt when they left their child at school for the first time? When their kid went out on their first date? Had their first boyfriend or girlfriend?
Went off to college?
She was already thinking of herself as Phoebe’s mother.
She sucked in a breath and pressed the accelerator a little harder as she flew down the road toward the Flying J.
Toward Brody.
They needed to discuss the information she’d gotten from Ellie the other night. Lainey wanted to get started now. To take the first steps toward making Phoebe her daughter, starting with becoming her legal guardian.
She slowed the car as she neared the gate, pressing the transponder and waiting impatiently as the gate creaked open. Once her car could fit through, she drove too fast over the cattle guard, the series of bumps rattling her teeth together.
As she drove down the driveway, she watched in her rearview mirror to make sure the gate closed. Once it did, she focused on the house, coming closer every moment.
There was no sign of Brody when she parked beside his truck. Hurrying into the house, she stopped abruptly at the dining room when she saw the table. Two candles flickered in silver holders. Wine glasses stood at two place settings, set carefully with china instead of the rugged Fiestaware they used every day.
Sounds filtered in from the kitchen, and she wondered if it was Brody or Violet. Her gaze touching on the painstakingly set dining room table, she headed toward the kitchen.
Brody stood in front of the stove, wearing an apron. He had a cast iron pan heating on a burner, and two steaks sitting on a plate on the counter.
“Hey, Brody,” she said, clearing her throat. “What’s going on?”
He spun around to face her, and the uncertainty on his face was completely endearing. “We’re alone tonight. Everyone’s gone into Helena, so I thought I’d make a nice dinner for you.” He nodded at the meat. “Steak. Twice-baked potatoes, which are in the oven. And a salad.”
“I saw the good china on the dining room table.” She studied him. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who’d have good china.”
“Belonged to my grandmother,” he said. “My dad couldn’t bear to get rid of those dishes, so they’re still here.”
Her heart softened at the story, and she cleared her throat. “And the wine. I didn’t know you drank wine.”
“I prefer beer, but I drink wine occasionally.”
He was drinking wine because that’s what she liked. Her heart squeezed, then tumbled into his hands. “This is really sweet,” she said, a tiny wobble in her voice.
“Go put your coat away and do whatever it is women do when they get home from work. I’ll put the steaks on. They’ll be done in about five minutes.”
“Okay,” she said. But as he turned back to the stove, she moved behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Thank you,” she murmured into his back. “No one’s ever cooked a special meal for me.”
“You deserve a lot more than this,” he said. “But we’ll start with dinner.”
