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A corner of my mouth lifts involuntarily at how beautiful she looks in her flannel pajamas and messy bun.
“What? Do I have drool stains?” she asks, wiping her mouth. I shake my head and chuckle.
“No, you don’t have any drool stains. The reason I don’t think Mark did this is because of the speed at which the guy ran away. Mark looks fit, but notthatfit. He’s in his late 50s with a slight paunch in his belly.”
“I don’t know. Didn’t you say he had a son and daughter? Maybe his son is helping him. He said his kids were in town getting supplies, so we know they’re here.” My eyebrows raise at her suggestion.
“We know that Brayden lives in Texas and Amanda lives in South Carolina, so we didn’t consider them as possible suspects. They would both have been in New Jersey if they attended the funeral, which was right about the time when all this started going down. Good thinking, Lee.”
I dial Savannah’s number. When she answers, I tell her what Leanna suggested and ask her to look into their backgrounds for any criminal behavior or arrests. While I’m conversing, Leanna leaves the table to head to her room.
Leanna returns a few minutes later dressed in jeans and a sweater. She throws my Army sweatshirt at me and tells me to get dressed.
“And where are we going?” I ask.
“First, we are going to the automatic car wash and taking your truck through as many times as needed to get the paint off. It should come off with soap and water. Then, you are going to take me to the local coffee shop where I can buy us breakfast. It’s the least I can do for everything you have done for me. Besides, I need to take my boyfriend out on a date so he can explain why he was acting as if I had the plague last night.” She smiles sweetly, but she’s deadly serious.
I guess I deserve that. When I heard her tell Callie that the kiss was all for show, it hit me in the “feels.” But part of that is my fault. I’m trying to show her how I feel about her instead of telling her, but she’s either not picking up on the signals, or she’s not interested. I spent my time last night trying to figure out which and brooding over her comment.
Last night, I wanted to kiss her the way I had been dreaming about but had promised myself I wouldn’t do that until I was sure her feelings for me were real. A kiss like that means something to me and shouldn’t be taken lightly.
“How about I buy breakfast, and we chalk it up to me being an idiot?” I ask.
“You’re not an idiot, Carter, but I will let you buy me breakfast.” She gives me a playful wink. Rather than return the gesture, I grab her around the waist and nuzzle her neck, tickling her with my stubble. Her giggle is infectious, and I continue my assault until she cries out, “MERCY!” When her stomach growls with a cry of its own, it’s my cue to get her fed.
I throw on my sweatshirt and get our coats from the closet. While she’s getting her shoes on, I leave a note for the family that we went into town for breakfast. Then, I text Patrick and Savannah to let them know we’re on the move.
Leanna reaches for the doorknob—anxious to get going—but I stop her with my arm. “Let me go first.” When my tone brooks no argument, she understands that this is a matter of safety and steps back.
Once the coast is clear, I jog over to the truck so I can be a gentleman and open the paint-splattered door for her.
“The splash of color really makes the truck stand out. It has an abstract art vibe going for it. Maybe you should keep it the way it is.” she jokes.
I roll my eyes. “Do I look like the kind of guy who likes abstract art?”
“No. The black truck is more your style, dark and mysterious.”
“I can live with those descriptors, but I was going for rugged and sexy.” I wiggle my eyebrows roguishly.
When she mumbles her next words, it sounds like she says, “You are that.” Although she doesn’t voice the compliment loud enough for me to hear clearly, I take it for what it is.
It takes us three times driving through the car wash before all the paint is gone. Afterward, I take her to the local diner, which looks like a giant train car. When we walk inside, the first thing that grabs my attention is all the pictures of different railway cars and train stations. The ceiling is papered with old stubs from a bygone era. It’s a quaint little place, and the food smells greasy and delicious.
Leanna orders the “carb-lovers” breakfast that comes with pancakes, hashbrowns, eggs, and toast; while I order the egg-white western omelet with fruit and cottage cheese. The server, whose nametag reads “Stella,” snickers when she writes it down. “Normally, an order like this would be reversed with the woman watching the carbs,” she tells us.
“There are carbs in his fruit! They’re full of sugar!” Leanna defends with good humor.
“Well, you’re one of the lucky ones with an hourglass figure and fit as a fiddle. If I could get away with eating carbs and have a body like yours, I’d be loading up on our Belgian waffles,” Stella tells her.
“What are you talking about, Stella? You eat one of them every morning for breakfast. I should know since I’m the one who makes them!” yells the cook from the other side of the warming area. He waves and grins at us when we glance in his direction.
“Don’t mind, Jack. He’s been making me waffles since we got married. We’re going on 30 years next month.”
“Happy Anniversary!” Leanna says, beaming. She’s always been a hopeless romantic and loves a happy ending. I’d say three decades together qualifies.
“Thanks, Hon. It’s not always an easy road, but when you find the person you’re meant to be with, it’s a road worth traveling together. I can tell that you two will make it through the long haul.”
“Oh! We’re not…” Leanna starts to say, but I quickly interrupt her.
