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“I worry about anything having to do with my restaurant. Who the hell are you, anyway?”
“No one important.” He tried to hurry away, but she ran after him.
“Wait. I saw you with Kirk Williams. There’s no point in being all secretive, this is a small town.”
He stopped and turned to face her. “My name is Granger. I’m head of security for Bliss Gault.”
“Bliss is here?” Kendra clapped her hands together.
“That’s all I can say. I should get back.” He strode off so quickly, there was no chance of her catching up.
“Tell her Kendra says hi!” she called after him.
As the snow surrounded him, he cursed himself. Why hadn’t he seized the opportunity to go inside, get a burger, meet Alvin Carter? Maybe even get some answers?
But then he’d have to explain about the Mosedale kid, and after all, he’d made a promise. One thing about Special Agent Earl Granger, he always kept his promises.
And…he might be just a little bit afraid of what he’d learn from Alvin Carter. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that, at least to himself.
Five
After two days of living in the same hotel suite, Bliss discovered a few interesting facts about Granger.
One. For such a big guy, he knew how to give people their space. She’d never known such a respectful person when it came to boundaries, even unspoken ones. If she wasn’t in the mood to talk, he could tell, and he stayed quiet.
Two. To relax, he liked watching crime shows on his laptop. He would invariably know the suspect after the first few minutes of the show, and announce it out loud.
“What’s the fun in watching those if you know who did it?”
“Thatisthe fun. I like being right.” His bronze face split in a grin. “It’s the only thing I get right almost all the time. It’s good for my ego.”
Three. He was honest about himself. He rattled off a list of his faults over breakfast the first morning. He’d gone out early in the morning and picked up a box of muffins and a carton of eggs. The smell of coffee perking in the suite’s kitchenette drew her from her bedroom.
“The muffins are for you, if you want them.” He gestured at them while he fried a panful of eggs. “I like protein. I have a lethal sweet tooth, so I have to avoid sugar. If I eat too much, I get weepy. I hate being weepy.”
“Okay.” She helped herself to a blueberry muffin, nestled it into a paper towel, and took it to the couch, where she sat cross-legged and waited for more confessionals from her head of security. “What else makes you weepy?”
“Injustice. Ignorance. The occasional detergent commercial.”
She smiled as she bit into her muffin.
“Coffee?” he offered.
“I prefer tea, but I’ll make it. I have my own.”
Was that a roll of his eyes? She heard his unspoken “of course you do” perfectly clearly. “And you, of course, are probably a coffee addict. Isn’t that a classic law enforcement quirk?”
He poured coffee into a large pottery mug printed with a pattern of floating loons. “Yup. I’m a cliché. I drink about a gallon of coffee a day, and it’s safer not to speak to me until I’m on my third cup.”
“Noted. What happens before then?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ve gotten some bad reports.”
“From girlfriends?”
Now why had she asked that question? His personal life was no concern of hers. His eyes slid to meet hers. They were a nice color, a rich, deep amber-brown, like her favorite peanut butter fudge. One of her modeling friends had eyes just about that color. Should she mention that to Granger? Maybe after one more mug of coffee?
He still hadn’t answered her girlfriend question.
