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Rome pipes in from twenty feet away, “I will too, once I get my car out of the valet.”
A chuckle escapes my throat. “Okay, thanks.” No one but out of towners valet in Kissing Springs unless it’s pouring down rain. It’s a gorgeous little town, now that it has been revived and marketed as theRomance Capital of the World, so everyone loves to walk and window shop, even when the stores are closed.
Lennox calls out to Vanessa, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Vanessa shakes her head as I tuck her under my wing.
An engine roars loudly as it sweeps behind us, nearly taking us out. He does a U-turn on his bike where he’s nearly parallel with the road. This guy is an experienced rider.
He was never going to hit us, but why? Why would the biker deliver an invitation and then try to scare her?
How many bikers live in Kissing Springs? I don’t know but I intend to find out.
I attempt to follow the motorcycle, but he squeezes through an alleyway, and by the time I go around the block, he’s disappeared.
I slow down, driving the streets, hoping to see his parked bike somewhere. Then we drive until we wind down the long driveway and come to a stop.
“Beau?”
“Yeah, babe?” Old habits die hard.
ChapterSeventeen
VANESSA
“Where are we?”
He cuts the engine, blowing out a breath. “My house. I need to enlarge the footage and clean the video up. It won’t take long.”
Beau’s house sits way back off a country road that feels familiar, but then again they all look the same in the dark.
I unstrap myself when he pulls into his three car garage, completely free of junk. Everything is stored neatly in plastic bins or hanging on pegboards.
Hmm. Beau Landry has done well for himself.
He punches in a code by the metal door, turns on the light, and walks me into the kitchen.
It’s so homey with a brick backsplash rising high over the stove where he has a huge stainless steel vent. There’s a hanging pan rack against one wall and three lines of open shelving on the other side.
“Wow. Did you hire an interior decorator?”
It opens into the living room where he has a large navy blue sectional facing a huge stone fireplace with an enormous television above the mantel. There are two photos on the wooden mantle. I mosey closer to see the men in the photograph. It’s pretty high up so he takes it down, holding it in his large palm.
“No.”
I scoot in close to see the picture. “Are these your Navy friends?”
“This is my seal team. My brothers.”
“Is this Ben?” I ask, pointing to his face. “I thought you said he was in the Air Force.”
“He was an Arabic linguist in the Air Force. He was embedded into our team to translate when needed. He’s one of us, which is why I trust him with your life.”
His confidence and sincere tone are all I need to believe in Ben’s abilities to get my office and house wired.
The other picture is of Beau in uniform with his parents. “Are your parents still in Kissing Springs? I saw them at Mark’s celebration of life.”
“I’m sure they were happy to see you,” he says.
