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Her heels sink back to the ground.
Her shoulders tense and she grips the countertop, hard enough to turn her knuckles white.
“No husband. Just me,” she says quietly.
Shit.
I am baffled.
I glance at the wedding topper. Definitely a bride and groom, right? Or maybe that groom is a more manly bride? Is she…
“My bad,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “Your wife, then. Your partner. Significant other?”
Yeah, I’m flailing.
“Nope. Nada. None of the above.” Her throat ticks as she swallows, shaking her head roughly. “There’s no one else. It’s just me.”
Oh.
“I see,” I say flatly.
Just her, with a pretty little wedding cake on the table and a wedding dress on the floor. I’veheardof these people who marry themselves, but I never thought I’d meet one.
Goddamn, what sort of crazy does Solitude attract?
We just opened this place not long ago.
But she sends me a pleading look, and even though an urge to play detective eats at me, I let it go.
I still have Colt and his minions to sort out.
I turn back to my son, who shrinks in his chair.
“So,” I say, tapping my fingers against my bicep as I look at the way the kids trade panicked glances. “Who wants to tell me what you guys were doing here?”
“We reallywereat Evans’,” Colt says. The other two nod furiously. “We were doing science, Dad. I was helping them with that summer project for extra credit.”
“Right.” I let silence fall as I wait for the rest of it.
“Even Bree,” he says. The girl takes another bite of cake, smacking her lips like this is no big deal. But her shoulders and neck show tension.
Her dad’s a hardass construction manager and a former Marine. He’s going to be mad as fuck that she’s out here causing trouble, and I don’t blame him.
So am I.
“It was my fault, Mr. Rory,” Evans confesses, hanging his head. There’s a smear of icing on his plate still, and he looks at it sadly. “My brother, Jack, he offered to drive us out here. We figured it would be sort of fun to light off a few.”
I study each kid slowly.
“So Jack chauffeured you guys all this way to dick around with my guests?”
Shamefaced, Colt slides a company key card over.
“We… we thought it would be empty,” he mumbles. “I checked the schedule yesterday at your office when we stopped by. There was no one booked.”
“Oh, my.” Winnie’s cheeks flare red. “Yes, it was a very last-minute booking. I’m sorry.”
“No. You donotapologize for my boy and his friends when they could’ve burned this place down and you along with it,” I snarl and immediately regret it.