He provided them with copies of the CCTV footage and the identification on file, then sent them on their way.
Cujo walked into the kitchen and poured a large, steaming mug of the coffee he’d brewed.He sent a text to his sister-in-law, Elisa, to see how Zeph was doing.Her exhausted call at four thirty that morning had him pulling on his clothes and jogging the four blocks to their house.He’d never seen so much vomit come out of one little person.Of all the nights for his brother to be out of town.
If Elisa hadn’t handed him the burrito on his way to the truck, he’d be starved as well as sleep deprived.
A banging on the door of the studio startled him.He returned to the front of the shop, which was supposed to be closed for another hour.
Drea.Shit.
Taking a sip of his coffee, he flicked the latch and let in the walking flash fire.They’d agreed to meet to plan Trent and Harper’s engagement party.Damn it.
“Good morning, Starshine,” he said as she marched past him.Christ, the woman was always on a mission.Yet smelled decidedly like a warm Cinnabon.And didn’tthatmake his stomach grumble?
“Hi,” Drea responded, barely making eye contact as she rifled through an oversized purse to retrieve a binder and pen.“Off to a slow start today, are we?”she said, looking at the paperwork on the desk.
Another reason why he hadn’t wanted to plan Trent and Harper’s engagement party with Harper’s best friend and coworker.
He bit the side of his tongue and checked the need to respond.“Want some coffee?”
“No thanks, I was up early enough for breakfast.Can we get started?I have to get to work soon.I have a list,” she said, tapping the perfectly buffed nail of her index finger on the binder.
The thought of her anywhere near a projectile-vomiting three-year-old made him smile.She was perfectly put together.
That damn hair of hers framed her face perfectly and bounced around like a shampoo commercial.What had she done anyway?It used to be chocolate brown and long.Now it had all those highlights the color of melted toffee and some gold pantone number he couldn’t remember.He rubbed his hand over his head, the bristles of white blond hair growing in unfamiliar.
A cough cracked through the silence, and Cujo shook his head.
“The list?”Drea said, opening the binder to a tabulated index page.
Staying on the high road was going to be hell.
***
Christ, what she wouldn’t give for a coffee, but she wasn’t going to give Cujo the satisfaction of saying so.She salivated at the nutty smell and had to stop staring as he lifted the steaming mug to his lips.The toll of working the late shift for Harper, and battling to get her mom out of bed and up for the day, was pounding its way across the top of her head.
“Let’s go sit down in the back,” Cujo said, pointing toward the office.
Drea gathered her belongings and walked down the short hallway.She loved the office.The long gray sofa looked so inviting, and the cushions were the perfect resting place for her pounding head.One minute on that sucker and she’d be asleep faster than you could say “Good night, Dixie.”
Drea pulled out one of the chairs from what she assumed was a light table for tracing pictures on.The chair was white, practical and, more important, hard enough to keep her awake.She plopped her binder down on the glass surface and waited.
Cujo sauntered into the office like they had all the time in the world.He placed one of the cups he carried next to her pens.
“I said I was fine,” she commented, wondering if it would appear rude to drag the cup over and inhale the contents.
“Yeah, well, the drool trail I had to step over to get to the kitchen says you’re a liar,” Cujo replied, the corner of his mouth hitched in a smile.“I didn’t know how you liked it but assumed black.”
Drea lowered her gaze to the table, using her hair to hide her amusement at his comment.She took several sips, the strong flavor hitting her taste buds in all the right places.“Why black?”
“It reminded me of you… bitter, without a hint of sugar.”
Drea looked up and scowled.“Wow.Harsh,” she said, disappointed as the feeling of inordinate pleasure from the coffee slipped away.She put the cup back on the table and reopened her binder.
“So I called around, and there are three historic buildings with availability at such short notice.I found two caterers who can do the food.We just need to provide numbers and they’ll—”
“Hold up.”Cujo cut her off.“It all sounds a bit provincial.”
“Provincial?”Drea said surprised.“That’s a lot of syllables for you, isn’t it?”
