“Yes, of course,” Elisa assured her. “Just tired and emotional. Have a great time on your tropical island getaway. Relax and have fun. You deserve a break from all of this craziness. I just wish you could take more time for yourselves.”
“This is way better than nothing.” Demi grabbed her. “I’m so excited,” she whispered. “All my dreams are coming true. And you’re a big part of that, too, you know.”
Elisa’s throat tightened, and she hid her face against her friend’s shoulder.
“Have a wonderful time,” she whispered brokenly. “Love you.”
Demi and Eric drove off to hoots and cheers, the tin cans tied to the back bumper rattling cheerfully as the Porsche disappeared into the dark.
And that was it. She wouldn’t see Demi again. Not in this life. Not unless her luck took an insane and improbable turn for the better. Not unless Fate got much kinder than Fate tended to be. And she wasn’t holding her breath for that.
She needed all her breath for running.
The very thought made her tired. Stale buses, dingy terminals. Washing up as best she could in nasty public restrooms. Crap food, cheap hotels and hostels. A constant stream of menacing strangers. The enormous, crushing solitude of it.
And the fear. Constantly looking over her shoulder for Gil’s hit men. Forever combing the web for news of her brother. Always with her pounding heart in her throat, until she felt like she was choking on it.
She should never have come to Shaw’s Crossing in the first place, considering its proximity to home. Her father had owned many homes up and down the West Coast, though he’d based himself in the Bay area, and she and Josh had even spent a couple of summers here in Shaw’s Crossing at a summer camp. It would have been smarter to get farther away from Gil than just two states, but Shaw’s Crossing had proved irresistible. Even her shabby little apartment over the restaurant had its funky charm, the big windows, the mountain view, lots of light for painting and drawing. She didn’t give a damn about the luxuries Gil had considered so essential to his dignity and rank. Just art supplies, good light, and being left the hell alone to do her thing, at least some of the time. Pure bliss.
The guests started leaving soon after Demi and Eric’s departure. Within a half hour, the place was emptied out. There was just Anton, Mace and Fiona, the catering staff, and the security people. And Nate, of course. Hanging around, giving her that look that made the memory of yesterday’s incredibly stupid, totally amazing kiss light up like a bonfire, blazing wildly in her mind.
Fiona gave her a brief, awkward hug. “You did great. The meal was delicious. Demi was thrilled. I’m sure you could get more work like this if you wanted it.”
“Yeah, you guys went over and above,” Anton agreed. “Why not knock off now, and do the clean-up tomorrow?”
“No, the Bluff House cleaning crew will be here early tomorrow,” Elisa said. “The Rotary Club has a buffet tomorrow, so we need to clear out. It won’t take long.”
“Well, then. Goodnight,” Fiona said. “Don’t worry about the DJ station. Anton and I will pick it up tomorrow morning.”
Mace lingered after Fiona and Anton strolled out, their arms wrapped around each other. “You coming back to the house now?” he asked Nate. “Who’s covering Anton and Fi tonight?”
“Mitch has got them,” Nate said. “I’ll just wait here. I wanted to talk to Elisa about that thing we discussed.”
“Ah.” Mace’s speculative gaze flicked to Elisa. “Well, then. I’ll leave you to it.”
“Leave him to what?” Elisa asked, as Mace walked away. “Discussed what?”
“Oh, you know,” Nate said vaguely. “Security stuff. You and your staff shouldn’t be here all alone.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Elisa said. “We’re not at risk. We have no connection to anything that’s happening.”
“This town is fucking weird,” Nate said. “You can’t convince me otherwise. Bad things happen here with a regularity that defies statistical normality. I’ll stay until you’re done and then I’ll see you to your apartment. Don’t argue, because you’ll lose.”
“I can get a ride downtown with Tasha and Alba—”
“No,” he said. “I want to take you myself. We need to talk. I’ll explain later.”
She studied him, puzzled and wary. “Well, fine then. Stay if you must, but you’re going to be completely ignored.”
“Better yet, can I help?”
“Sure, if you’re serious. Help Tasha and Gomez stack up the chairs and get them over to the east entrance so they can be picked up in the morning.”
With Nate’s help, they got the chairs stacked and moved in record time, then packed up the extra food and hauled it out to the van. Tasha and Alba had already been charged with the task of stowing the uneaten food at the restaurant. Elisa had organized for Tasha to be in possession of the keys to the restaurant, not Elisa. Tomorrow, Tasha and Alba would make up the goodie trays for the shut-ins and the care home, and spend the rest of the day delivering them.
Elisa was on the verge of tears when she said goodbye to Tasha and Alba, but she fought it down, not wanting to make her colleagues worried and suspicious. She limited herself to a big hug and a whispered “thank you,” and watched their van bump and bob its way over the speedbumps until it made the turn to head downhill.
“You ready to go?” Nate asked her.
“A few last things,” she said.
She’d already done a walkthrough of the kitchen, but she did another one, taking her own sweet time. Stalling. She wasn’t quite ready to be alone with Nate in his car. To have him park near her apartment, and kill the engine, and sit there in the dark with her, the silence heavy with that burning question that she wanted so badly to answer. Yes.
She couldn’t. It would be stupid to give into temptation now, after fighting for so long. But either way, she was the loser. Either choice led to a lifetime of regret.
She wanted desperately to make love to Nate Murphy at least once before she ran away. To feel something real. Something hot and beautiful and bracing, before facing the cold that lay ahead.
But Nate Murphy would not be an easy man to run away from. Getting involved with her could get him killed.
She wouldn’t survive that guilt. Not a second time.
Nate waited patiently by the DJ station as she puttered around.
Then he leaned over, flipped some switches, manipulating the buttons.
“Don’t turn that on,” she said. “It’s so late.”
“There’s something I wanted to hear again. Yeah…here it is.”
The music started. After the first few chords, she realized that it was the same romantic ballad that had been playing when she’d refused to dance with him earlier.
He held out his hand. “No cake to cut,” he said. “No coffee to pour. Nobody snickering or whistling or giving us a hard time. Dance with me now.”
Oh no. Panic surged, along with excitement. Her heart accelerated. “Nate, that’s crazy,” she said. “It’s been a long day—”
“Just a dance. It’s not such a big deal.” He kept his hand out.