“Two weeks?” She hadn’t believed he could pull it off. And two weeks … “What do I do about all that?” He looked out at the gardens, as she did. “I’d say we both know enough people who’d take care of it, especially if they can haul off tomatoes or whatever.” “I haven’t been away for two weeks straight … ever. Not in one place, not when it wasn’t work-oriented.” “You can work there, so can I, when we need to. It’s got a gym.” “Now you’re toying with me.” “Its own pool, oceanfront. It’s a quiet area, so you go for the beach, the views. You want more jazz, you head down to Nags Head or down to Myrtle Beach.” “I don’t need the jazz. It sounds amazing.” “Potential downside. It’s a drive, a substantial one. With two kids, two dogs.” “I like kids and dogs.” “I’ve noticed.” “Are your kids going to be all right with this?” “They like you. Plus, beach.” “I’d love it.” Two weeks of beach and … nothing. She couldn’t imagine it. “If they’re all right with it—really all right with it—I’m in. If they’re not, you need to take them anyway. It’s too good to miss.” “I’ll talk to them. I know my kids. They’ll be fine with it.” “Okay then. I’m going to check those potatoes.” “I’ll deal with the salad. And how do you like your steak?” “If I’m going to eat a hunk of meat, I want it rare.” “Now we’re talking.” They cooked their first meal together, ate on the porch while the sun eased toward the western mountains. They talked about his kids, the youth center, his work, hers. She found it just wonderful to talk about things that mattered in the every day. “You’re always in charge of the potatoes.” Replete, Raylan sat back with his wine. “I’m impressed with your salad and grilling skills. And as a Rizzo, I don’t say that lightly.” “Wait till you taste my mac and cheese. Only from a box in a pinch,” he added when she narrowed her eyes. “It’s my mother’s recipe.” “Jan makes exceptional mac and cheese as I recall.” “See? I’ll put it on our beach menu.” Watching her, he poured out the last of the wine. “I like your face.” Amused, she propped her chin on her hand. “Is that so?” “Faces and body types are an interest of mine for obvious reasons. I drew yours once, your face, when we were kids.” “You did?” “Practicing. I drew Maya’s a lot. Usually gave her demon horns or a forked tongue. Your grandparents, such good faces. Sometimes I’d sit in Rizzo’s after school when Mom was on shift and try to draw faces of people who came in. It was easier to draw characters with masks or cowls, so I wanted to practice. I wonder if I had a little thing going even back then?” “For art? Absolutely.” “No, for you. Maybe a little thing. Seems to me I drew Cassie—remember Cassie?—as a snake girl, because she was sneaky. Not that I held that against her—I admired it. But I just drew your face. So might have had a thing. I sure as hell have one now.” She reached out for his hand. “That’s a relief, because I have a thing going, too.” “I like thinking about you when you’re not there. What’s she doing now? Maybe I’ll look out the window and she’ll be going to see Teesha next door. Or maybe I’ll drive to get groceries and see her out running. I didn’t know I could feel this way again. That I’d want to.” Her heart just stumbled in her chest. She rose, gave his hand a tug so he stood as well. “I think we should take the dishes in, stack them up to deal with later.” “Later works for me.” “And we can give our very good dogs a chew bone while we go upstairs.” “They deserve it.” “And …” She moved into him, tipped her face to his. “Then later than that, we can deal with the dishes before we have some cappuccino on the front porch, look down on the lights of Traveler’s Creek, listen to the quiet awhile before we go upstairs again.” “All of that,” he murmured before he kissed her. “I’ve got a bag in the car.” She smiled. “You can get that later, too. Dogs and dishes, then I want to be with you. Just you, Raylan.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE