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A terrible idea and not something I intended to do. Rather than point all that out, I went with the one fact that would make a difference for him. “Gram and Celia could be in trouble.”

“Or not.”

Nice try. His guarded expression didn’t fool me. “They would step in and help a woman with a husband problem.”

“I don’t even want to know what that means.”

He did. He knew better than most what Celia went through to disengage from the hideous mess her irresponsible husband left her in. May he rest in peace.

“They might have meant well. Talked with Delilah. Then everything went sideways... and for some reason they made the mistake again with Abigail.” Admittedly, the last part added to the confusion. How many times did poison play a role, how, and did they have some sort of poison supply I didn’t know about? I almost got lost in the long list of questions colliding in my brain. “The bottom line is Gram and Celia potentially could be mixed up in all of this.”

He sighed. “If there’s even something nefarious going on,which I doubt, so that’s a hugeif. All we know right now is two unrelated men died at different points in time.”

So many words and none of them weremaybe you were right to question all ofthisand I was wrong. But I was and so was he. Score one for the law school dropout. “That’s not all we know. I might be imagining things but you’re downplaying them.”

“I can admit that. I’ll ask around and—”

“Yes. But you meanwe. We can look around.”

“Wait.” He held up his hands as if to extinguish any excitement that might be brewing. That was his superpower. “I can find out more about Delilah’s husband situation on my own. See if there are any rumors. Make sure Celia and Mags aren’t being mentioned in the conversation.”

He didn’t outright refuse. That was a good start. “You have to report back. You’re not cutting me out of this.”

“Understood.”

We spent a few minutes talking about strategy. Well, I did. He listened but didn’t commit to anything. After that the conversation naturally switched to non-poison topics. His job. Celia and Gram. What was happening in town. People we both knew. We avoided any additional kissing talk and fell into a comfortable back-and-forth.

Being with him both unsettled me and grounded me. Those sounded like opposites, but the words represented the clashing between my heart and my head. I liked him, though I would never admit that. He made me smile. We shared a past. Our lives intersected and wove together in so many places.

I also wanted to try that kissing thing again. As an adult this time. But not happening, so I buried the idea as deep as possible and focused on the friendly stuff only.

We finished our delicious dinner. I’d gotten flounder. A good call. An hour and a half and I’d scarfed down a salad, entrée, and we shared a dessert. The dessert just happened to be one of Gram’s pies. Blueberry crunch. One I hadn’t tasted in years.

I waited for the server to clear the plates. “You know you’re paying, right?”

“I thought we agreed this wasn’t a date.”

“Technically it was a negotiation of sorts. I got you to listen and believe me about the poison.”

“No.” He drew the word out for a few syllables, as if he needed to emphasize it. “I’m not sold on your theory. I still think you’re jumping to conclusions and letting that imagination of yours run amok. Some things are coincidences, you know.”

“Whatever.”

“But dinner is on me.” He folded his napkin and put it on the table. “This time.”

My heartbeat spiked. “Is there going to be another restaurant dinner?”

“That’s up to you.” His smile returned.

“What’s happening right now?”

“I’d note the difference between sixteen and twenty-three was a problem. The difference between twenty-six and thirty-three is not.”

More math. This time interesting math. I was smart enough to shut up and not ruin the moment... but I would eventually.

Chapter Thirteen

“How was dinner?”