Chapter Eleven
The drivedown the mountain was scenic as the road wound down knobby hills, seasonally green after the recent rainfall. Evergreens stood out in stark contrast to the scrubby oaks whose bare branches twisted like gnarly fingers of ancient wizards.
Brian whistled, in a good mood, and Cait wasn’t feeling too bad herself. They’d spent a leisurely morning entangled in bed, and even though not many words were spoken, the passion was white hot and the tender moments sweet.
Sierra and Melia lay in the tailgate section of Brian’s Subaru Outback, content as only dogs could be. Sunlight filtered through the tinted glass, and even though it was in the forties outside, Cait was snug and warm.
The town was little more than a center square and two cross streets filled with old buildings. Brian parked the car in front of the one and only diner. “We might as well use their wifi internet in there.”
“I can get a signal right here,” Cait said.
“Need to use my laptop,” Brian said. “Besides, I worked up an appetite.”
Cait leaned over the console and kissed him on the cheek. “So did I.”
It was times like this that convinced her Brian did truly care for her. He wasn’t as demonstrable as other men, but he was good, solid, and dependable.
He gave her a half smirk and got out of the car. “You two want to stretch your legs?”
“Is the diner dog friendly?” Cait asked.
“They have an outdoor section.” Brian opened the hatch and let the two dogs jump out.
A few minutes later, they were seated outside on the patio. It was chilly, but Cait had her scarf, coat, and gloves, so she wasn’t complaining.
“What pretty puppies,” the waitress said. “Where’d you find them?”
“They found us,” Brian said, taking a menu from the waitress. “Can we have your wifi password?”
“Sure, it’s printed on the menu.” The waitress, who appeared to be a college student, quirked her eyebrow as she stared at Brian. “You look familiar.”
“I was here last night,” Brian said, not making eye contact.
“I wasn’t working last night,” the waitress said. “I saw you over near Dead Man’s Gulch. Were you the guy who put flowers at the scene?”
“Might have been me.” Brian’s face turned pink. “Can we get some coffee while we decide?”
“You put flowers at the place?” Cait asked after the waitress retreated to the kitchen.
“Was no big deal.” Brian’s voice lowered to a rasp. “Mrs. Thornton always liked yellow roses.”
“Was she from Texas?” Cait asked, knowing how Brian’s thoughts leapt from one association to another.
“Yes, Abilene, but she moved to San Francisco after marrying Mr. Thornton.”
“You seem to know a lot about the family. How old do you think these dogs are?” Cait kept her voice calm, despite the twinge of jealousy rising in her belly. He bought flowers for his former teacher, but never did romantic gestures for her.
“The dogs are around four years old.” Brian’s knee jittered under the table. “She got them for her son when they diagnosed him with Asperger’s syndrome.”
“Asperger’s?” Cait jolted upright and stared at Brian. “Didn’t you tell me she thought you had that, too?”
He looked down at the menu. “I didn’t agree with her. My parents didn’t either.”
“Well, sure, but wasn’t she your hero? The teacher who could do no wrong? The one who inspired you to go to firefighting school?”
Brian gritted his teeth and squeezed the plastic menu so hard his knuckles whitened. “She’s wrong about that. I’m not crazy. I’m perfectly normal.”
“Sure you are.” Cait covered his hand with hers and rubbed his knuckles. “But why would she tell you that Glen has Asperger’s? Were you that close to her?”
