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And grumbled at him whenever he ended up cleaning behind her.
He couldn’t help it.
While he had no desire to own or run his own restaurant, he did dream of the day he and Hallie bought a house with a real chef’s kitchen.
She wanted a place with room for a garden and a little greenhouse, and he stood right with her on that.
Oh yeah, fresh herbs and veg? All about it.
They saved for it every paycheck.
But the wedding—only three weeks and three days away!—and the honeymoon in the Bahamas came first.
He wouldn’t have a day off until Monday, and would do a double on Sunday, but he didn’t mind.
Come May he’d have two weeks in the tropics with his lady. His bride.
His wife.
He often thought if a man got hit by lightning and lived to tell about it, and didn’t live life as full as he could, that man was just stupid.
Terry Brown’s mama hadn’t raised a stupid child.
As he did every night, Terry went over his checklist.
“All right! Great job tonight. Boone, that Cajun sauce? Just perfect.Margo, the raspberry chocolate mousse? Inspired. Now I’m going home to my lady.”
Like most nights, several went out the back with him, some to walk home if they lived close enough, others like him to drive. They filled the night air with chatter, a little bitching, some laughs.
He let out a long sigh as he got in his car. A good night, he thought again. And Hallie would be waiting for him.
They’d go over the RSVPs that were coming in for the wedding, maybe play a little more with the seating arrangements. And after he’d peeled off his day, maybe snuggle up together and make sweet love.
He was a little tired, he couldn’t deny it. But once he got home, cuddled up with Hallie? That wouldn’t be a problem.
He could’ve driven the winding, rolling roads the six and a half miles home on autopilot. And that ten minutes or so always helped him shed the stress and excitement of a restaurant kitchen.
He’d driven half that when he saw the van, and his headlights washed over a woman looking helpless who waved her arms.
He pulled over. If his mother hadn’t raised a stupid child, she hadn’t raised an inconsiderate one either.
“Oh, thank you!” Clara, hands on her cheeks, walked to his car as he got out. “I can’t think what happened. It just sputtered and died on me. I barely had time to pull to the shoulder. And I’m so careless on top. My phone battery’s dead as a doornail.”
“Could you be out of gas?”
“I don’t— Oh my goodness. Maybe.” She put a hand to her face again, and behind it, her eyes flicked left. “I’ll check. I don’t know what I’d’ve done if you hadn’t come along.”
As she stepped back, Terry heard a footfall behind him.
He turned as Sam jumped forward, and swung out. His fist struck Sam’s cheek with enough force to jerk Sam’s head back. As Terry moved in to strike another blow, Clara rushed in, kicked hard at the back of Terry’s knee to buckle it.
Cursing, Sam jammed the syringe into Terry’s neck. “Motherfucker!”
“Get him in! Get him in! I see headlights coming.”
Terry struggled, weakly, but struggled enough it took them both to drag him in. Sam jumped in behind him.
“Drive, babe! Drive!”