“I’m sorry if I wasted your time.”
“It’s all right.” The grooves of the older man’s face held compassion. “I’m sorry about what happened to your uncle, son.”
Zander nodded. The chief clapped him on the upper arm and returned to his daughter.
Zander watched Nick enter the taco shop across the street.
If he’d wasted the chief’s time, the way that it looked he had, he really was sorry. Sorry to have cut into the man’s lunch hour. Sorry to have made himself look paranoid in the chief’s eyes.
An overactive imagination was an occupational hazard for writers. He wrote about dark characters, after all. A serial killer in his first book. And in his current manuscript, an assassin. Had he been wrong about Nick?
Maybe.
Then again. Maybe not.
A clean record in the past didn’t guarantee innocence in the present.
Zander was immediately welcomed inside Corbin and Willow’s house by Corbin himself on Easter Sunday. Corbin was easy to talk to and had a great sense of humor. Even so, Zander could feel himself withdrawing more than usual whenever he was around the guy. For years, he’d watched Corbin play football on TV. Every time he and Corbin talked,that’s NFL quarterback Corbin Stewartfilled Zander’s head until there wasn’t room for much else.
He was going to have to get over himself. Corbin had joined the Bradford family when he’d married Willow, which meant Corbin would be part of Zander’s life from now on.
More than a decade after leaving St. Louis, Zander still had trouble squaring the hardship of his early life to the life that had come after. The Bradfords’ acceptance of him. ANew York Timesbestselling book. Now Easter lunch with Corbin Stewart.
He made a quick scan of the guests in the room. Willow, of course. Nora and her fiancé, John, were here, as were John’s parentsand John’s sister’s family. He spotted Britt’s grandmother, Britt’s uncle, and two Bradford cousins and their families.
Britt, he didn’t see, which meant she was probably cooking.
After greeting everyone, he entered the kitchen.
“Oh good!” Britt smiled at him. “There you are. I’m putting the finishing touches on my potatoes gratin. Prepare to be dazzled.”
“I always am.”
She sprinkled the top of the potatoes with salt. “Everything else is ready. They’re not as desperate for me to save them with my culinary skills as they sometimes are.”
Zander hooked his thumbs through his belt loops and studied the impressive kitchen. “This house has changed since I was here last.”
“That’s because Willow’s worked her magic on it. I’ve accused her more than once of falling in love with Corbin for his house.” Turning, she slid her baking dish into the packed oven. “Every time I come here I feel like I’m inside a shoot forArchitectural Digest.” She came around the kitchen island and hugged him. “Happy Easter, Zander.”
His gut clenched. “Happy Easter, Britt.”
They parted. She scooped up some pistachios from a decorative dish. “Would you like some?”
“Sure.”
She put half her handful on a napkin for him and the other half on a napkin for herself. They stood leaning against the island, facing each other, while she shelled pistachios.
She wore casual clothes most of the time, but on days like today when she dressed up, she appeared just as comfortable in her more formal wardrobe. A bright blue geometric pattern decorated her sleeveless white dress. The straps of her white high heels wrapped around her ankles. Her dark brown hair fell to the middle of her chest. She had on big silver earrings and three silver rings and she was ridiculously beautiful.
She caught him staring. With a flick of her fingers, she reminded him of his pistachios.
He ate two.
“Did you see any black Expeditions on the way here?” she asked.
“Not a one.”
“Bummer.”
