leaves from a bit of branch.
His profile was barely discernible in the darkness. Carlotta walked barefoot through the dew-laden grass and sat down next to him. Neither of them said anything for a while, allowing her to soak up the night noises of insects and slow-moving cars. This time of night, this time of year, their neighborhood was almost pretty.
Finally she inhaled deeply and puffed out her cheeks in an exhale. “I’m sorry about the scare, Wesley. If the tables were turned and I thought something had happened to you, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”
He gave a hoarse laugh. “Celebrated, probably.”
“How can you say that?”
Wesley sniffed. “Easy. Because I’ve been a big pain in the ass to you.”
Her heart tugged sideways. “I wouldn’t say a big pain in the ass.”
He laughed, then turned to look at her and his eyes clouded. “I thought you were gone. I thought I’d driven you to…” His voice broke off on a sob.
She put her arm around his neck and rocked him toward her, her throat clogged with emotion. “I’m right here. And yes, you’ve caused me a few sleepless nights, but I can’t believe you’d think I would just leave you like—” She bit her tongue.
“Like Mom and Dad?”
She hesitated, then gave his shoulders another hug. “I’m not going anywhere, got it?”
He nodded and she felt him exhale. No matter how many times she’d told him, he had no idea how much she loved him, how impossible it would be for her to abandon him. She felt sorry for her parents sometimes, that they hadn’t felt that kind of love for Wesley. Or for her.
“Why don’t you come inside?” she asked softly. “Detective Terry is making coffee.”
“Mighty friendly of him,” Wesley said, his voice drenched with suspicion.
“He has to question me. He thinks someone might have stolen my identity.”
Wesley laughed. “Why would anyone want your identity?”
“Thanks a lot.” She punched his shoulder, but was glad to see him returning to his smart-ass self. “Are you coming in or not?”
“Not. At least not yet. I’ll hang out here until he leaves.”
“Suit yourself,” she said, then pushed to her feet and brushed the grass off her skirt.
When Carlotta climbed the steps again to the front door, fatigue pulled at her, but the aroma of strong coffee carried her to the kitchen. Jack had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and his dreadful tie lay on the counter. He stood next to the coffeemaker, pouring brew into two mismatched mugs.
“I see you found everything,” she said, glancing around the dated decor of the kitchen, feeling a twinge of shame, then anger that she cared what this man thought of her or her family home. Then she gave a dry laugh. “But I forget that you saw everything when you searched our house during Wesley’s arrest, didn’t you?”
He handed her a mug of coffee and skimmed her, head to grass-stained toes, with his dark gaze. “Well, I didn’t see everything. ”
Her skin hummed with awareness, but Carlotta blamed it on the dwindling buzz. She averted her eyes and took a seat at the table stacked with mail and other clutter where a notebook, pen, and police radio lay.
“Will this take long?” she murmured, then took a sip of the surprisingly good coffee.
“I hope not,” he said. “I was really hoping to get some sleep tonight.”
“Me, too.”
“Then let’s get to it.” Jack picked up the pen and took a deep drink. “Now then…tell me about this business with your cell phone.”
She relayed the details, excluding the part about why she had dropped her cell phone in the first place.
“I’ll need your account number,” he said.
She balked, wondering how closely he might examine her phone records. “I…don’t have it handy.”
“That’s all right. I have your cell number so I’ll go from there. When did you first notice unusual activity on your bill?”
“Uh, I didn’t.” Carlotta glanced at the pile of mail and her
His profile was barely discernible in the darkness. Carlotta walked barefoot through the dew-laden grass and sat down next to him. Neither of them said anything for a while, allowing her to soak up the night noises of insects and slow-moving cars. This time of night, this time of year, their neighborhood was almost pretty.
Finally she inhaled deeply and puffed out her cheeks in an exhale. “I’m sorry about the scare, Wesley. If the tables were turned and I thought something had happened to you, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”
He gave a hoarse laugh. “Celebrated, probably.”
“How can you say that?”
Wesley sniffed. “Easy. Because I’ve been a big pain in the ass to you.”
Her heart tugged sideways. “I wouldn’t say a big pain in the ass.”
He laughed, then turned to look at her and his eyes clouded. “I thought you were gone. I thought I’d driven you to…” His voice broke off on a sob.
She put her arm around his neck and rocked him toward her, her throat clogged with emotion. “I’m right here. And yes, you’ve caused me a few sleepless nights, but I can’t believe you’d think I would just leave you like—” She bit her tongue.
“Like Mom and Dad?”
She hesitated, then gave his shoulders another hug. “I’m not going anywhere, got it?”
He nodded and she felt him exhale. No matter how many times she’d told him, he had no idea how much she loved him, how impossible it would be for her to abandon him. She felt sorry for her parents sometimes, that they hadn’t felt that kind of love for Wesley. Or for her.
“Why don’t you come inside?” she asked softly. “Detective Terry is making coffee.”
“Mighty friendly of him,” Wesley said, his voice drenched with suspicion.
“He has to question me. He thinks someone might have stolen my identity.”
Wesley laughed. “Why would anyone want your identity?”
“Thanks a lot.” She punched his shoulder, but was glad to see him returning to his smart-ass self. “Are you coming in or not?”
“Not. At least not yet. I’ll hang out here until he leaves.”
“Suit yourself,” she said, then pushed to her feet and brushed the grass off her skirt.
When Carlotta climbed the steps again to the front door, fatigue pulled at her, but the aroma of strong coffee carried her to the kitchen. Jack had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and his dreadful tie lay on the counter. He stood next to the coffeemaker, pouring brew into two mismatched mugs.
“I see you found everything,” she said, glancing around the dated decor of the kitchen, feeling a twinge of shame, then anger that she cared what this man thought of her or her family home. Then she gave a dry laugh. “But I forget that you saw everything when you searched our house during Wesley’s arrest, didn’t you?”
He handed her a mug of coffee and skimmed her, head to grass-stained toes, with his dark gaze. “Well, I didn’t see everything. ”
Her skin hummed with awareness, but Carlotta blamed it on the dwindling buzz. She averted her eyes and took a seat at the table stacked with mail and other clutter where a notebook, pen, and police radio lay.
“Will this take long?” she murmured, then took a sip of the surprisingly good coffee.
“I hope not,” he said. “I was really hoping to get some sleep tonight.”
“Me, too.”
“Then let’s get to it.” Jack picked up the pen and took a deep drink. “Now then…tell me about this business with your cell phone.”
She relayed the details, excluding the part about why she had dropped her cell phone in the first place.
“I’ll need your account number,” he said.
She balked, wondering how closely he might examine her phone records. “I…don’t have it handy.”
“That’s all right. I have your cell number so I’ll go from there. When did you first notice unusual activity on your bill?”
“Uh, I didn’t.” Carlotta glanced at the pile of mail and her
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