“Excuse me.”
I turned just as Brooke Walton came up the stairs, her breath quick and her cheeks flushed from the rain. “Hold the door, would you?”
I caught it and stepped aside. “Clark isn’t here,” I said, noticing his light was off.
Brooke stepped inside the reception area and looked at the empty doorway, her shoulders sagging. She wore a pink raincoat buttoned to the collar, shiny black boots, and a baseball cap that dripped water onto the mat. “Do you know where he is?”
“No. I just got back to the office.” It had to be around six at night, so maybe he’d gone to get dinner. I studied her.
Even damp and windblown, she looked striking. It wasn’t hard to see why Clark had been interested.
“I suppose you don’t like me,” she said.
I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. “I don’t know you. I don’t appreciate your aunt suing my grandma, and I think anyone who’d say no to dating Clark Bunne is crazy. But I’m sure you have your reasons.”
Since we were just standing there in the reception area, I took off my coat, shook out the rain, and hung it on the rack.
“It’s not that I don’t like Clark,” she murmured, unbuttoning her jacket. “It’s that I don’t want to be tied down with one guy.”
I frowned. “I think maybe you’ll want to when you find the right one. I don’t understand it because he’s awesome, but maybe Clark isn’t the right guy for you.”
“Well, he’s not the right guy for you either,” she said. “Are you still hot and heavy with Devlin?”
“That’s a good point.”
She tilted her head. “Have you and Clark ever?—”
“No,” I said before she could finish. “We’ve been colleagues from the start, then friends.” Honestly, I couldn’t see any other man but Aiden in my life. And even if I could, there’s no way Clark would date me.
There was no need to explain that Clark had once seen me covered in cremated remains. That was a story that didn’t need repeating. “So why are you here?” I asked.
She fiddled with a button on her coat. “I just wanted to make things right with him.”
Before I could answer, the door opened and Henry Johnston walked in, shaking rain off his shoulders. “Hey, I have information.” He stopped short when he saw Brooke. “Well, hello.” He extended a hand, that grin spreading. “Henry Johnston. Process server.”
“Brooke Walton,” she said, shaking his hand quickly before taking a step back.
“You are gorgeous,” Henry said without missing a beat.
“Thanks.” She smiled at him but then turned to me. “Any chance you want to grab a drink?”
I blinked, surprised. “I would, but I have other plans.” That was a lie, but getting involved in Clark’s private life was not on my to-do list. It would only tick him off.
“I’ll go have a drink with you, gorgeous,” Henry said, puffing out his chest. His jacket clung slightly, and he’d grown a few whiskers since I’d seen him earlier.
“Another time, I think,” Brooke said primly. “If you can find me.” She turned and walked out the door without another word.
Well, the woman knew how to issue a challenge and flirt. I had to give her that. “Henry, our office is closed,” I said.
He shuffled his feet, water dripping off his too-long pants. “I was hoping we could have a business arrangement. You know, come to some sort of deal.”
I should’ve just gone home instead of stopping by the office. “What kind of business arrangement?”
He puffed out his chest. “I figure you all need a process server.” He pulled out a slightly bent business card and handed it over.
I looked down to read it: Henry Johnston, Process Server and Investigator. “Uh-huh,” I said slowly.
“Yes,” he said eagerly. “I do investigations on the side.” He smiled, and for a brief second, it almost made him look more appealing. Not by much, but effort counted for something.
