“I have some ideas.” His voice dropped lower, his hands sliding down to her hips.
Heat flared in Nora’s stomach. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He leaned down and kissed her, slow and thorough, taking his time. “But first, I’m going to feed you. You barely ate at the station.”
“I wasn’t hungry.”
“Well, you should be now. And I make excellent spaghetti.” He released her and moved back to the kitchen. “Family recipe. My dad taught me.”
Nora watched him pull out a pot and start filling it with water. “Tell me about him. Your dad. You don’t talk about him much.”
Carson was quiet for a moment, his hands stilling on the pot. “He was a good man. Great cop.Better father. He worked long hours but always made time for me and Lily. Always.” He turned on the stove. “After Lily disappeared, it broke something in him. He tried to hide it, tried to keep being strong for me, but I could see it eating him alive. And then two years later, he walked into that convenience store and—”
He stopped. Nora moved to his side and took his hand.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“No, it’s okay. I want to talk about him. Want to remember the good parts, not just the way it ended.” Carson squeezed her hand. “He would have liked you. Would have appreciated how stubborn you are, how you don’t back down when you believe in something.”
“My stubbornness is one of my better qualities.”
“It really is.” He kissed her forehead and went back to cooking. “Now sit. Watch me work my culinary magic.”
Nora settled at the small kitchen table and did exactly that—watched Carson move around the cabin’s tiny kitchen with surprising competence. He really did know how to cook, his movements confident as he browned meat and stirred sauce.
“So your dad taught you to cook?” she asked.
“Just this recipe,” he said with a small smirk. “Everything else I know, I know through necessity. After my dad died, it was just me. I could eitherlearn or live on takeout—and spaghetti—forever.” He added spices to the sauce. “Captain Holloway’s wife took pity on me for a while. Taught me some basics. Said no man should reach thirty without knowing how to feed himself properly.”
“Smart woman.”
“She is. You’ll meet her eventually. She’s been trying to set me up with someone for years. Gave up after the fifth failed blind date.”
Nora ignored the twinge of jealousy over the nameless woman who’d been out of the picture long before she ever came along. “Failed how?”
Carson glanced back at her with a slight smile. “I apparently have very high standards. And a tendency to talk about work too much. And according to Mrs. Holloway, I ‘radiate emotional unavailability.’”
“That sounds accurate,” she said with a teasing smile.
“Hey.”
“I’m kidding.” Nora grinned. “You’re only moderately emotionally unavailable.”
“Thanks. That’s very reassuring.” But he was smiling as he said it.
They ate dinner at the table, talking about everything and nothing. Nora told him about her college roommate who’d convinced her to join the accounting program. Carson told her about the time Finn had accidentally handcuffed himself to a suspect and lost the key.
Normal conversation. Couple’s conversation.
The kind Nora had watched other people have and wondered if she’d ever have herself.
After dinner, they cleaned up together, Carson washing while Nora dried. Then they settled on the couch in front of the fire, Nora tucked against Carson’s side.
“This is nice,” she murmured.
“It is.” His hand moved to her hair, fingers running through the strands in a way that made her eyes want to close.
“Can I ask you something?”
