For too long he’d been living life as a bachelor. Unfortunately, just when he found someone who took his breath away, the relationship was over before it could truly begin. Someone stood between Braden and Cressida.
He hated to end the joyride, but it was time to head over to the small mom-and-pop café—Lucio’s Bistro—in Forestview. At least he could still look forward to sitting across the table from her and learning as much as he could about her, and possibly more that could help him protect her. Anyone who could walk away from a person like Octavia Dane, especially as a daughter, deserved his utmost respect and admiration.
15
The bistro at the end of the strip mall looked cozy and quaint. Cressida pulled the helmet off and flipped her hair around to get out the kinks. Braden took the helmet from her, then secured them both with a locking clip on his bike.
She never would have imagined she’d ride on the back of a detective’s motorcycle in the middle of an investigation into an attack on her life.
Stranger things have happened.
And maybe this situation was strange, but she’d count it as a good thing too. For months now, she’d been working hard on Dad’s book, and now and then a girl needed to have fun—like that old eighties song. Except she wasn’t sure that having dinner with him would be fun, and she didn’t think this was actually an official date.
On the sidewalk, Braden waited on her, and the look he was giving her increased her uncertainty about this not-a-date.
He opened the door for her, and she smiled and entered. The cute brunette hostess talked to him like he frequentedthe place, then ushered them back to Braden’s “usual” table. He took the seat that would let him keep his back to the wall like Cressida would expect from law enforcement.
There was something about his actions, his mannerisms. Cressida couldn’t put her finger on it, and maybe she already had enough to figure out that she didn’t need to spend energy on solving the enigma that was Braden Sanders.
But neither could she simply let this go.
Who are you?
She needed to get to the bottom of him. But that could take some time. Yes, he’d grown up in Maine. His dad had been a fisherman. But what more?
Water and menus were brought, and after a quick perusal of a limited menu, she decided on the lasagna instead of something hard to eat like spaghetti and meatballs. Food ordered, she clasped her hands on the square table with a red-checkered tablecloth. Italian dining music softly played in the background, making conversation easy.
“You come here a lot,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
“Once or twice.” He hitched a grin and sat back.
She gave him a pointed look.
“Okay, it’s myfavoriteplace.”
“Because it reminds you of your favorite place?” In Maine?
“What’syourfavorite place?” He hadn’t answered her question.
She went through a list of restaurants where she’d eaten in the last year of her travels—in Bermuda, Scotland, Namibia, and Micronesia. “But there’s a little place in DC, a small place that reminds me of this. They serve the best Reubens.”
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Reuben kind of girl, or even a sandwich girl.”
She lifted her shoulders. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Ducati kind of guy.”
And that made him laugh. He had a great laugh.
So what that she’d shared her favorite place in DC with him? Maybe she was holding on to false hope that he wouldn’t learn her mother worked for the State Department, because if the investigation went on long enough, that would be an eventuality. Then again, her mother’s position in the government could be meaningless to him. Just a government employee. She wasn’t exactly sure why it should bother her. Maybe she was concerned that he would contact her mother and inform her of the attack, and the next thing Cressida knew, DSS special agents would be stalking her to protect her.
Having dinner with him might have been a bad idea, opening the door to more questions that she didn’t want to answer. They continued talking about nothing too important as if they both danced around the truth, whatever that was.
The food arrived. Finally. She slowly released an anxious breath. “I’m ravenous.”
After the waitress left, Cressida put her napkin in place and lifted her fork.
“Wait,” he said. “Can we say grace?”
“Sure. Of course.” She set her fork aside. Bowed her head and closed her eyes.
