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Violet raised her head, her nose grazing his and her lips meeting his. Soft. Full. Too tempting to not taste, to explore and get lost in. Her arms slipped around his waist, and she pressed in, but he pulled back a hairsbreadth and whispered, “I can’t kiss you like this, Violet. Not when your emotions are raw and you’re confused. And I said I wouldn’t kiss you before I stole your heart. And before you say another word—you don’t know if I have or not. Not like this.”
“No one’s ever turned me away.” Confusion clouded her eyes.
His gaze deepened. “Don’t misunderstand. I’m not at all turning you away. I’m...postponing.”
Thunder rumbled and rain began to fall in a steady stream, dotting her face and eyelashes. “A rain check then.”
With more restraint and willpower than he’d ever used, he let his hands drop from her cheeks. “Count on it.”
They raced to the car. He opened her door, and she jumped in then he followed suit. The rain slammed against the roof and concealed their view.
Violet’s phone rang. “It’s Tiberius.” She answered and put him on speaker.
“We got all kinds of stuff to tell you,” she said.
“Yeah, well me first. I cracked the numbers. Romans sounded good, but I’ve been thinking about the phrase holler girls. We both thought they might be more than drug runners, so I ran down the prostitution angle.”
“Cleaning houses probably is a front for prostitution.” Violet told Tiberius about the rooms upstairs at the Swallow. “And Bella Dawn was all over Greg last night. Then there’s the fact no one will talk. Greg did say that Ruby Boyd and Amy Miller were holler girls—and targets. I didn’t get much more than that out of him though.”
“That only helps me confirm my new theory. And it changes everything about who we’re looking for.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m back at the B and B.”
“We’ll meet you there.”
Violet went inside the B and B and straight to her room and private bath, where she washed her face and brushed her hair. Had she really confessed her most horrible acts to a man who epitomized everything that was good and noble and kind? Everything virtuous and honorable. The man wouldn’t even kiss her in a vulnerable state for fear of taking advantage of her! Was he for real?
In his arms, warmth had encompassed her, chasing away the cold that dogged her heels. A brightness radiated and kicked down darkness’s door, and she’d felt it clear to her bones.
But then she’d felt stupid.
You’re not.
And she’d believed him.
No lies. No games. Only honesty and truth in his spoken words. In his eyes—like amber sunshine arresting and capturing her but not against her will. She’d wanted to be drawn in, drawn close. Held near. Held dear.
Had John Orlando stolen her heart? She wasn’t sure. But he’d at least circled her ribs and cased the joint, leaving a mark.
Staring in the mirror, she studied her face. She’d revealed the ugliest part of her life, and John hadn’t run. What might that mean? And was God real?
“Are You real?” she whispered. “Did You see me when I was a little girl walking down that aisle? Were You there at all? Are You here now?”
She blinked then dried her damp face and headed back downstairs to the covered porch where Ty, John and Agent Kip Pulaski from the Louisville field office sat sipping coffee. Once again, it had been left out on the sideboard in the dining room by the mysteriously absentee aunt.
“Well, hello again, Agent Rainwater,” Pulaski said. “How goes the investigation? I hear the holler’s lips have been locked up tight. Not surprising. Thought I’d pop over and offer you some services.”
“Why, because Asa isn’t in charge, and you don’t think a woman can run the show?”
“Chip on your shoulder and fiery. Nice.” He didn’t appear offended. “Agent Granger’s been fillin’ me in.”
Ty looked up, his hair a disaster and his normal scruff now a short beard. He tossed her an apologetic glance. “I thought we could use all the help possible.”
Violet wasn’t sure. She also had trust issues. She sat on the wicker sofa beside John. Pulaski sat across the glass coffee table in a wicker rocker, and Ty sat between them on the outdoor sofa. The coffee smelled rich and nutty. But she wanted information right now. Coffee could wait.
“I told them about Wendell already,” John said.
