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“Let me make you dinner,” he replied. “Whatever you want. My kitchen is pretty stocked, and I have no doubt I can find whatever it is you’re craving.”
“What?” Wendy laughed, thinking he was joking.
“I’m serious,” Erik replied, backing up a little as if to give her more space to think. “I like cooking. I cook better when I cook for others. And tonight I have no one to cook for. So, let me cook for you.”
“Who else do you feed?” Wendy laughed. “Do you have a bevy of women on rotation that you wine and dine like this?”
“Hardly.” Erik laughed, crossing his arms as his hips relaxed his legs into a more laid-back stance. “But I do sometimes run an unofficial ‘meals on wheels’ situation. Deliver them to military vets. It’s the holidays, though, so a bunch of the local churches and nonprofits kick in more than usual. I’m not needed as much. So, what do you say?”
“Well, now I feel so bad about the bevy of women joke that I feel like I have to say yes,” Wendy replied, only half-joking.
“It doesn’t have to be a date,” Erik continued, his voice gentle and sincere. “But I enjoyed our little interaction this morning. That normally doesn’t happen with me. As you might think, I’m more of a ‘What do you want?’ and not so much a ‘How can I help you kinda guy.’ These things are a bit grueling for me, but you made it fun. I’d like to keep talking if you’d be up for that.”
It definitely seems like the day for it,Wendy pondered silently, thinking back to the heart-to-heart she’d had with Cynthia that morning, the talk she’d have with Birgit tomorrow, and now the offer Erik had just given her. It was crazy. She’d been isolated for years because of her job. And now she was surrounded by company.
“You know what? Why not?” she replied. “I’d like to go home and change first, if that’s okay. But I can come over right after if you give me your address.”
Erik’s smile brightened, and she saw a dimple on either side of his cheeks, almost camouflaged into his facial hair. It gave his otherwise broody man look a boyish charm−but only if you noticed them.
“Give me your phone,” he encouraged, holding out his hand. “I’ll give you my number and address. Requests for dinner?”
Wendy didn’t even have to think about it. Though she was a nurse and understood the risks of fatty foods, she still couldn’t deny herself pasta or rice any chance she got.
“Spaghetti Bolognese with the cheesiest, garlic-yist bread you’ve ever made,” she replied quickly.
As if impressed by her order and the quickness she delivered it, Erik nodded his head in confirmation and laughed.
“Alright then, you’ve got it.”
* * *
Erik was dethawing the hamburger and sausage for the Bolognese sauce when he heard a knock on the door. He looked at the clock in his kitchen in surprise. It had only been a half hour since he and Wendy had parted at the hotel, and he hadn’t expected her so quickly. Walking to his front door, he peeked out the side window and rolled his eyes.
“You’re much uglier than the guest I was expecting,” Erik greeted Tucker dryly, nodding his head for him to come in.
“I’m the prettiest man in this town, hotshot,” Tucker quipped back, throwing a light punch into his cousin’s arm. “You got a minute? I wanted to talk about today.”
“Sure, man,” Erik replied, accepting his cousin’s handshake before they both took seats on opposite ends of his huge, overstuffed couch. That was one thing he wanted and needed ever since he’d gotten out of the military. Large, cushioned, spacious furniture that he could sprawl himself out on. No more single beds, cots, or hammocks unless he went camping.
“So, what did you see today?” Tucker asked, getting right down to business. He was the hotel’s security and had been close last week to catching one of the suspects that had been screwing with the hotel. In fact, that’s why Erik was hired to work the food booth. He was ex-military and was used to doing surveillance with a different view of the world. Coincidentally, it was also why he didn’t bond with people that often.
“I didn’t see anyone that matched the profiles you gave me. No James Gall, no Anita Holstead, and no Frank Holstead.”
“Did you speak with Cynthia or Wendy at all?” Tucker asked next. Cynthia and Tucker were a new item. He’d fallen for her so fast he didn’t even consider Cynthia a suspect. Erik did, though. Seemingly unattached to the scandal, and yet the phone was returned toherbag. How had she not noticed that? He’d met her a couple of times already and had deemed her genuine and not dropped his theory about her. Still, why of all people didsheend up with the phone?
“She came by the booth around lunchtime to pick something up for her and you,” Erik replied, making eye contact with Tucker. “Assuming you were at your post.”
Tucker nodded.
“She say anything?”
Erik shook his head and lowered his eyes to the coffee table.
“Just asked if I saw anything. I said no. She said to keep my eyes peeled, and I said will do. Then she thanked me for the lunches and went out to you.”
“And Wendy?”
Erik felt an electric spark run through him from the feet up and his eyes shot up to Tucker again. He was supposed to be gathering intel on her tonight, but when he’d first seen her, his body reacted in a way it never had before. Something about her seemed so…real.Not at all like the upper-class women who tried to lure him into their ski loft timeshares as a “thank-you” for his charitable work.
