“That’s all I can ask.” His eyes stayed on hers.
She glanced toward the entrance to the dining area. “What do we do when we leave?”
He winked. “Back door.”
“You know, I’m glad Connie suggested I buy a coat. I didn’t bring one with me. I thought I’d find Avery sooner than this.”
“She probably doesn’t think you’re looking for her.”
“I agree.” Aftyn turned her glass slowly. “She knows me. She thinks I’ll let it go once it comes to a head, but she’d be wrong about that.”
“Just don’t tip your hand too soon.”
“Speaking of being careful.” She stuck her fork into the rice pilaf. “Do you have any idea why the apartment has so many locks on the door?”
Cole cut into his steak. “When Rissa lived there, her ex was in town giving her trouble. She wanted to make sure he couldn’t get in. She was seeing Reece at the time, married him later, and he dealt with the ex himself. Sam ran him out of Clifton for good after that.”
“I didn’t want to ask Connie about it.”
Cole smiled. “She would have told you.”
****
Cole pushed back from the table, the chair legs scraping against the tile. He lifted her coat and held it while she slipped her arms in, then shrugged into his own and settled his hat on his head.
The chef walked them to the back door, unlocked it and nodded them through. The door latched shut behind them and the night air hit clean and cold, smelling of pine. Cole took her hand and they moved along the brick wall, keeping to the shadows. Across the lot, darkness pooled between the parked cars and they used it, moving from one to the next until Cole pulled her behind a rusted pickup and pressed his back against the cold metal, drawing her close.
Aftyn pressed her lips together, her shoulders shaking. “This is ridiculous.”
“I know.” His breath came out in a small cloud. “Come on.” He glanced down at her shoes. “Can you run in those?”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Could you?”
“I couldn’t even walk in them.” He grinned.
“Hold on.” She balanced a hand on his shoulder and slipped them off one at a time, the asphalt rough under her bare feet, then clutched both heels in one hand and nodded.
They ran for it. Breath coming in short bursts, they crossed the lot and reached his truck and Cole dug for his keys, got the passenger door open, and Aftyn climbed in. He swung the door shut, jogged around to his side, and got the engine going. The headlights swept across the lot as he pulled out into the dark.
He glanced over and caught her with her hand pressed over her mouth, eyes creased, barely holding it together. She met his gaze and lost the battle entirely, laughing as she reached down to put her shoes back on. Cole felt it pull at him and gave in, and they drove out into the night laughing like they’d gotten away with something.
Dewey’s parking lot was packed. Cole found aspot, killed the engine, and came around to her door, offering his hand as she stepped down. Her fingers felt light against his palm, and he kept hold of them all the way to the entrance, where the wooden double doors had been worn smooth by years of the same hands pulling them open night after night.
Inside, the noise hit them like a wall. Country music driving hard from the stage, laughter crashing overcrowded tables, the sharp bite of whiskey threading through perfume and aftershave. The place was shoulder to shoulder, cowboy hats riding above the crowd like buoys on a rough sea.
Cole worked them through the press of denim and leather, feeling Aftyn’s grip tighten as they squeezed past a cluster of rowdy ranch hands. At the bar he spotted two empty stools on either side of a lone cowboy in a black Stetson.
He leaned in. “Excuse me. Any chance you could shift to one of the other stools? We’d like to sit together.”
The cowboy glanced from Cole to Aftyn, took an unhurried moment, then tipped his hat. “Sure thing,” he drawled, and moved without any fuss.
“Much obliged,” Cole said as they settled onto the warm stools. He caught the bartender’s eye. “Laura, this gentleman’s next drink is on me. I’ll take a bottled beer, and Aftyn will have a white wine.”
“Coming right up, Cole.” Laura winked, her bangles jangling as she turned away.
He leaned toward Aftyn. “You did want white wine, didn’t you? I should’ve asked first.”
“It’s perfect.” But her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
