I was glad he didn’t give me any platitudes. There were many truths: it would be okay, eventually. It was a lot, but it also sucked. I was working hard at being grateful for being safe last night. Waking up and getting pulled out of the house in time was a blessing.
The fire had been a shock, and I’d panicked, but I’d been so lucky. Still, my Grams used to say that it was okay to give yourself the space to be upset about something, hold space for those feelings, and still be grateful for the other things at the same time.
Briggs had hung around most of the day before he’d finished up with the cameras. Redhawk’s presence should have reassured me, but instead, it only reminded me that someone had wanted me gone. Someone who might bewatching even now. He’d told us before he’d left that he’d be hanging around town and would try to be nearby when East couldn’t be.
“Do we need to let Briggs know where we’re going? Maybe we should just go to the farmhouse.”
Anxiety curled sharply in my gut. Old truths whispered that safety was fragile, and trust dangerous. But East stepped closer, close enough that the warmth of him reached through the damp air. His voice dropped, low and certain.
“Nah, I’ve already texted him to let them know where we’ll be going,” he said again. “Let me take care of you tonight.”
The protest rose, then died on my tongue. I remembered how his mouth had tasted the night before, and how his hands had felt on me. Want flared hot and reckless, stronger than the fear.
“Okay,” I breathed.
The word was small, but it was enough.
31
Easton
The Holy Pig was one of those classic hometown favorites that you couldn’t help but miss when you moved away. It was a strange little spot on a crowded corner between Wildwood Meadows and Alder Valley that had started as a food truck and evolved into a few extra pop-up tents, complete with some fire pits for good measure. Typically, there was a nice line going and a crowd. Now they’d built a few patios and put in some heaters, but it was still a little rustic. Their food was always killer.
“Crowded tonight,” she murmured, her voice a notch higher than usual. Her fingers fidgeted in the pockets of her raincoat. She froze, and her eyes darted over the crowd. She looked like she was one wrong noise away from bolting.
It was starting to be instinct now, watching her, readingthe small tells she didn’t want anyone to notice. Lila had had a rough go the last few days. Hell, the last few weeks. Who would blame her if she didn’t want to face any gossip just yet?
“Then let’s not sit,” I offered, pulling her closer to me and feeling gratified when she relaxed a little. I should have thought ahead, but I was new to this whole dating scene.
Her eyes cut to mine, startled. “You mean leave? After you dragged me here for pulled pork?” She snorted a laugh. “It’s fine. I’m just jumpy.”
“Let’s just take it to go.” I shrugged my shoulders towards the counter in a half-suggestion.
The look she gave me could’ve scorched the neon pig sign above the bar. Then, as if the tension cracked just enough, her lips curved. “What, you scared I’d embarrass you?”
I leaned closer, voice low so only she could hear. “Sugar, you wouldn’t embarrass me if you wore that dinosaur suit again and danced on the counter. Although I’m partial to private shows only.” I gave her earlobe a tiny lick.
The sound that broke out of her was half laugh, half gasp. It was real, unguarded, and it lit the place brighter than any of the string lights overhead. She shook her head, muttering, “You did not just say that.”
I lifted a brow. “Look at my face and tell me I’m wrong.” Joking was the right path to take, because her eyes gleamed with interest. That spark I’d been missing most of the day was back.
“Interesting. I had no idea how much you liked the blow-up suit.”
“I like a costume.” I winked at her, enjoying the way a pink flush hit her cheeks. The costume comment was a joke, but I could run with it. Hell, if it was something she wanted to explore, I could go for a naughty nurse, or if she wanted me to dress up, I’d put on anything she wanted me to. Stalker mask? Knight costume? Green light all the way. I was willing to play. Giving her a squeeze, we stepped up to order.
We packed up brisket, pulled pork, cornbread, and beans, then stepped back into the cool night. Rain misted against her hair, and she tucked herself closer to me. Not as close as I’d like, but enough to feel she was protected. I’d texted Wade earlier for a picture of Derek, but that was probably a long shot for who we were looking for.
Instead of pulling onto the road toward the farmhouse, I turned down the gravel lane toward the barn.
“This doesn’t look like Maggie’s kitchen.”
“It’ll be a little more private out here.” I cut the engine, grabbed the paper bags, and swung out of the truck. “Come on. Let me feed you.”
Lila smirked at me. “You aren’t my stalker, are you?” When I frowned at her, she laughed. “Too soon?”
“Come on, sugar.” I pulled her with me inside the barn, where it was warm with the lingering scent of hay and cedar. The night had chilled, but in here, it felt quiet, close.
I spread a plaid blanket over a stack of hay bales, set the bags down, and began unpacking the food, as if it weresomething I did all the time, instead of being my first date in fifteen years. This counted as a date, right?
