There was no reason to share that theory with Kat—not yet at least.
“I’ll map it out and see if I can find some kind of connection between suspects that have been identified.”
“Have you cleared Colt and Roan? And the rock star?” I ask, lowering my voice as I scrape the garlic into the pot, inhaling as the fragrant aroma fills the kitchen.
“Yes. I had a few things to follow up on today, but most of it was settled before you met with them this morning.”
“Good.” Relief is potent, especially when it comes to eliminating family. “Anything on the local author friend?”
“Nothing that I’ve found so far other than Kat’s sales have been better than Hazel’s over the last year. Looks like Hazel tried a new series that didn’t take off, pivoted, and is getting back on track.”
“I need Hazel and the aunt nailed down as soon as possible. Kat and Hazel have an event this week, and I want to make sure we have everything covered. Make sure you pull whatever you can on the accident with the sister.”
“You got it. I’ll let you know when I have more. You staying there or should I send Jace for the overnight?”
“No, I’ll be here for the foreseeable future.”
“She know that yet?” He snorts as I add the cans of tomatoes and rummage through her meager spice cabinet.
You’re showing your age, Tom,I chide myself, but seriously, where the fuck is the onion powder?
“No.”
“Keep me on speaker.”
“Also no.”
“That’s no fun,” he complains and I can’t help but chuckle.
“Piss off your fiancée and then you can deal with her yelling.”
“I’d like to at least make it to my wedding before she tries to strangle me,” he muses, nothing but adoration for the womanwho turned his world upside down. She’s exactly what he needs, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t give him hell for it too.
“Tell her I said hello.”
“I will. Go woo Kat with your cooking skills.”
“I’m not wooing her; we’re eating.”
“Yeah, but women like a man who can cook.”
“You can make pancakes.”
“And Kinsley loves that about me.”
“I’m hanging up before I have to fire you again.”
“Yeah, yeah. Talk soon.”
Disconnecting the call, I stir the sauce and clean up the counter, washing the dishes and leaving them in the rack to dry before filling another pot with water.
It’s mechanical and I have to force myself to slow down. I don’t want Kat to be on edge in her own home, and I sure as hell don’t want to be the cause.
Taking a steadying breath, I allow myself a leisurely scan of the kitchen. It’s beautiful, crisp, and clean with white countertops, cabinets, and light hardwood floors. There’s no clutter to speak of out here or in the open-concept living room with the light camel-colored furniture, neutral throw pillows, and muted accent rug.
I haven’t been with Kat long, but these rooms feel nothing like her, and I have the strangest desire to find out why.
In a strictly professional sense.
