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“Oh. Right.Yes.” I did promise Charlie that, and much to my dismay, she has not forgotten. “We’ll take him. I’m just not sure what he needs.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll write you a list and send over some supplies. He’s a sweet boy, but a horndog, and I can’t handle one more batch of babies. Babe has already had two litters of pups this year, and I suspect she’s pregnant again.”
Damn.Two pregnancies this year already? It’s only summer. “How about we bring him home after the sleepover?”
“Perfect.”
I’m eager to end the call when Caleb emerges from the convenience store. “It was really nice to chat, Mrs. Ruby. I have to get going to work, but thank you again. I really appreciate how nice Claire has been to Charlie.”
After a sweet send-off, I hang up just in time for Caleb to reach me. “How’d it go?”
I step around the median and check his pump. His truck drinks diesel and his final cost is nearly double mine. “You might not want to look.”
He laughs. “Good call. Here.” He pulls out two plastic logs of Hostess Donettes. “Are you a powdered sugar or chocolate frosted kind of lady?”
I can’t tell him neither, but absolutely no way I’m putting those in my mouth. Last I checked, the scale was up two pounds yet again. My diet this week is lemon water and hard-boiled eggs. “Hmm.”
“Here, I wrote my number on both.” He hands me both packs of mini donuts. “I’m just passing through Vegas, but I come through here often. If you ever want to get together and bitch about the price of gas, let me know.”
I can’t help my spreading smile. “Thank you. Maybe I will.”
He pretends to tip a hat he isn’t wearing. “Ma’am,” he says with a cowboy flair.
I get back in my car and wait until Caleb peels out into traffic. The loud rumble of his truck only adds to his dripping masculinity. It was the perfect interaction. He was sweet, flirty, and didn’t pressure me or grovel. That was an ideal meet-cute.
I check the donut packages once the coast is clear, and there it is, Caleb’s name and number written in thick, black Sharpie. I’m about to program the number into my phone when a text pops up.
702-555-4322
Good morning. It’s Nate. Would you please stop by my office when you get here? I’d like your help with something.
Also, I got you a coffee.
My heart thunders in my chest as I shove the donuts into my oversized purse. I can ignore it all I want. And I’ll continue to call my boss what he is—grumpy and callous. Obviously, I’m not remotely interested.
Except my fluttering pulse doesn’t lie. It’s racing at the tiniest glimmer of the man I met at House of Blues that night.
He needs my help. He got me coffee.
Oh, and he just called himself Nate.
11
Nathan
Staring at my computer monitor, I scroll through the pictures again. The PI never gets Claire’s face. All I can see is that she’s gotten so much taller, and her fire-engine-red hair is down to her stomach. Picture after picture, all I can see is Peter taking Claire shopping. Peter taking Claire to the aquarium. Peter taking Claire for coffee and getting her a frappuccino drenched in chocolate and caramel syrup. Outside of the fact she shouldn’t be having that much caffeine at her age… Nothing’s wrong.
He ditched the beard. Post-prison, he’s sporting the clean-shaven look and smiling in every picture. But I can’t see Claire’s face. Is she smiling too?
Picking up my cell, I dial Dad’s PI on speaker.
“Hodge,” he answers.
“I just got your email. What the hell is all this?”
“What’s it look like, boss?”
“Do I sound like I’m in a playful mood? Or do I sound on edge like I’m willing to use every penny in my bank account to ruin a PI’s life if he doesn’t give me some legitimate answers?”