“Good mornin’, Slade,” she chirped. “One dozen kolaches, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Give me two minutes. I didn’t want ’em to get cold. I was trying to time it perfectly.”
Slade smiled. “No problem.”
He moved over to stand by one of the few tables that lined the small eat-in section of the bakery. For the most part, it remained empty, but sometimes you’d find someone using the bakery’s free Wi-Fi or someone else reading the paper. Today, the place was empty. Then again, it was Monday morning, and most people were off to work.
Which was where Slade was heading just as soon as he picked up the kolaches for the team. Last week had been a little chaotic. Everyone was focusing their efforts on finding Molly Ryan and Sonny Gilmore, and they were doing it without alerting JJ to their task. Or at least that was the plan, but JJ was smarter than they were, so it hadn’t taken long for her to figure it out.
Granted, she had been a bit out of sorts for most of the week. Something about wanting to get in to see her doctor but finding out he was out of the office for the week had freaked her out. Rather than see the doctor filling in for him, JJ had opted to wait until this week to go. According to her, nothing was wrong. She merely wanted to go as a precaution.
Slade understood that. After the ordeal she’d been through, he figured she would’ve needed a few days of bed rest. Not JJ. No, that woman was like the Energizer bunny. She kept going and going and…
The door opened, and the bells jingled overhead. Slade glanced over, his back going ramrod straight as soon as he saw Carson.
“Mornin’,” Carson said at the same time Ramona hollered, “I’ll be right with you!”
“Mornin’,” Slade returned, not wanting to be rude.
He hadn’t seen or heard from Carson since the night they had their come-to-Jesus at his house. Not a single peep out of him since Atticus had spent the night in Slade’s bed. Every night when he went home, Slade expected Carson to beat on his door and insist on knowing what had happened. He hadn’t. Nor had he texted or called. Complete radio silence for a solid week.
At least with him. Based on the bits and pieces he picked up in his conversations with Atticus, the two of them were talking. About what, Slade didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to know.
“Sorry about that,” Ramona said, huffing as she hurried to the front. “Oh, hey, Carson. Be right with you.”
“No rush,” he said, his gaze lingering on Slade as he moved to the register.
Slade paid, grabbed a stack of napkins, and then turned toward the door. He didn’t make it two steps when Carson called his name.
Swallowing hard, he paused and turned. “What?”
“Can you give me a minute? I’ll walk out with you.”
Slade could’ve easily told him he was in a hurry to get to work, but he was evidently a glutton for punishment because he nodded, then stepped outside to wait.
A couple of minutes later, Carson came out carrying a bottle of orange juice and a small white bag. If he had to guess, there was a bacon, egg, and cheese croissant in that bag. Carson was nothing if not predictable.
“If you’re here to rub it in my face that you’re talkin’ to Atticus, I already know,” Slade blurted.
Carson’s blue-gray eyes softened. “I’m not here to rub anything in.”
It took a second for Slade to realize that wasn’t some snarky euphemism. He’d been expecting something along the lines of,I’ll rub anything you want me to rub.
Slade stared at Carson, assessing the man before him. Gone was the cocky bastard who enjoyed taunting Slade for the hell of it. In his place, a guy Slade didn’t recognize.
“I wanted to ask if you’d have dinner with me tonight.”
You could’ve knocked him over with a fucking feather. Slade couldn’t mask his surprise, nor could he find his voice to respond.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to.”
Did he want to? He shouldn’t. Especially since he’d spent every waking minute, and some when he was sleeping, thinking about Atticus and the night they’d spent together. Something happened that night. Something significant. He was pretty sure Atticus had felt it, too. They hadn’t discussed it outright this past week, but their conversations had remained relatively intimate, to his relief. They had agreed to see where this was going between them when Atticus got back.
Now Slade had to wonder whether Atticus was having the same conversations with Carson.
“It’s on the up and up,” Carson tacked on. “I’m not askin’ to do anything behind Atticus’s back. I talked to him about it last night. Told him I’d like to have dinner with you. He said we should do that.”
