“The only thing you shouldn’t have done was put yourself at risk.”
She was quiet for a moment, then said, “Are we talking about the weather or the fact that I showed up at Sanctuary, uninvited? Because I have to tell you, the dude with the hood was scarier than the snowstorm.”
“He was just being overly cautious,” Mad Dog said carefully. “We’ve had some incidents.”
“Yeah? How many of them have involved a woman and a dog driving up to the front door, armed with takeout?”
He chuckled after hearing the teasing lilt to her voice, pleased that she had a sense of humor about the whole thing. “Not many.”
“I thought not.” She yawned audibly and then apologized for it. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long night.”
He would like to talk with her longer but couldn’t be selfish. “I understand. You should get some rest.”
“Okay.”
“Uh, Kate?”
“Yes?”
“Would you ... like to have coffee with me sometime?”
Once again, he held his breath, each second feeling much longer than it was.
“I’d like that,” she said softly. “But our only decent coffeehouse burned down last year. How about we make it dinner instead?”
Doing a mental fist pump, he said, “Even better. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay. Good night ... uh, what should I call you? Brian? Mad Dog? Please don’t say Mad Dog. It just doesn’t feel right—at least, not yet. Maybe when I get to know you better ... assuming I do get to know you better. And ... I’m babbling. I’m sorry.”
She was adorable.
“How about Chris?”
“I thought your name was Brian? Resorting to aliases now, Mr. Sheppard?”
“Not at all. Brian is my given name, but I was named after my father, so most people called me by my middle name, Christopher, to avoid confusion.”
He didn’t know why he’d told her that. No one had called him Chris in a very long time.
“I like it. It suits you. I don’t have to tell you my middle name now, do I? Because it’s a lot more embarrassing than yours.”
Christ, he liked this woman.
“Only if you want to.”
“Hmm. We’ll work up to that, okay?”
“Okay.” He was smiling like an idiot. “Good night, Kate.”
“Good night, Chris.”
Chapter Eight
Kate
When Kate woke up the next morning, Duke was already gone, off to do whatever it was he did. As she made coffee, she replayed her conversation with Chris from the night before. She couldn’t believe she’d actually asked him out to dinner! Something about the man made her uncharacteristically bold.
But he’d accepted, hadn’t he? And he hadn’t seemed at all bothered by the fact that she’d gone up there, uninvited. Well, except for the doing it during a snowstorm part, which, admittedly, wasn’t one of her brightest ideas.
Mug in hand, she pulled back the curtains and looked outside, pleased to see sunshine trying to break through the lingering clouds. One side of the street was relatively clear. The other had snowdrifts that looked to be three to four feet high, which was typical for a nor’easter. Thankfully, the system had moved through quickly, and the effects weren’t as bad as some forecasters had predicted.
After a quick but hearty breakfast, she dressed in comfortable, warm layers and trekked across the street to open the store. The place was pretty cold first thing in the morning, so her usual winter routine involved turning up the heat and getting the pellet and wood stoves going. Both were big sellers around this time of year, especially when customers came in and saw how well they worked.
Her dad came in shortly after. She was glad to see he was his gruff, cheery self. That and the fact that she hadn’t had a slew of worried texts and voice mails suggested he wasn’t aware of last night’s drama. After the usual good mornings, he commented on how well the spaghetti dinner had gone.
“Even Rico was impressed. He suggested that maybe you were wasting your talents here at the hardware store and should work for him.”
It wasn’t the first time Rico had said something like that. Rico Buschetti was one of the owners and full-time cook at Franco’s restaurant. As much as Kate loved to cook, she didn’t think she could be happy, working in a place like Franco’s. It was a nice restaurant with great food and lovely people, but it was also an established place with an established menu. She couldn’t see herself making the same dishes night after night, using someone else’s recipes. For her, the true joy in cooking came from experimenting and trying new things.
“I’m flattered, but I’m happy right where I am.”
Her dad nodded. He opened his mouth as if to say something more but closed it again when Luther came through the front door.
“Morning, Luther.”
“Morning, Mr. H.”
A subtle wave of expensive cologne preceded his body by several seconds. Luther looked like he always did—well-dressed and not a hair out of place.
“I was just telling Kate here what a good job she did last night,” her father proudly told him.
“She did indeed.” Luther looked at her and had the nerve to smile, the poser.
“Good man.” Her father patted him on the shoulder and then turned to her. “Katy-belle, I’ll be out back, clearing the lot. Call me if you need me.”
“I will.”
He was barely through the door when Luther’s expression flipped from cheery to stormy.
“Where the fuck were you last night?”
“Why the fuck do you care?” she hissed back.
His eyes widened, probably because she’d used the F-word. It wasn’t something she did often, so it packed more of a punch when she did.
I really am being bolder these days.
“Kate.”
“Luther.”
“I promised your father I’d look out for you. What if something had happened?”
Typical self-centered Luther, more concerned with how he’d look than if something had actually happened to her.
“For the record, I did come looking for you to tell you I was going to deliver dinners to the people on my Meals on Wheels route. You were busy.” When he looked confused, she pitched her voice higher. “‘Oh, Luther! Yes! Yes!’ Does that ring a bell?”
His face turned red. “Kate, I—”
She put her hand up, having heard all of his excuses before. “Save it, Luther. I really don’t care.”
“You don’t have to pretend with me. I know it upset you.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What on earth makes you think that?”
“Because you wouldn’t answer my texts, and when I went over to your place, you weren’t there. You always go for a drive when you’re upset, though I thought you had more sense than to go out in bad weather, especially alone.”
“Maybe I wasn’t alone.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, right.”
The fact that he found such a thing laughable pissed her off. A wave of anger coursed through her body, and she felt the telltale prickle of tears beginning to well up.