“I know. Me either.”
“I know.” She glances at our clasped hands. “Your hand is warm.”
“Are you cold?”
“Just my fingers.”
I hold my other hand out, palm up, and she places her hand in it. Somehow this basic touch is more intimate in this moment than it would be if we ripped our clothes off and fucked on top of the table. She squeezes my hands, turning them back and forth, experimenting, studying. I let her. Her expression is the most open I’ve ever seen it. Everything about her transforms, from the set of her shoulders to the curve of her lips to the feel of her hands in mine. She seems almost giddy in her discovery. Questions begin to form about what made her the way she is, but I shove them aside, reminding myself that I don’t need to know.
The only thing that matters is the here and now.
Our waitress drops off the check. “Pay up front.”
Vera asks her for a box to take home what’s left of her child’s meal. Releasing one of her hands, I reach for the check before Vera can grab it. She frowns at me and pulls her other hand away. I frown back at her. She does something under the table I can’t see and then produces a five and lays it on the table. I push it back at her.
Her frown deepens and she shoves the five over with more force. “I pay my own way.”
“I invited you.” I slide it back over.
“Knock it off, Beau.”
“Invite me to dinner and then it’ll be your turn to pay.”
She slaps a hand on the five and it disappears under the table again. “Thank you.” She’s not grateful, she’s pissed.
The waitress returns with Vera’s to-go container and clears away my plate.
“You’re welcome,” I answer, when the waitress leaves.
“You’re assuming I’m going to want to eat with you again.”
“I don’t assume anything when it comes to you.”
She’s suppressing a smile while making a show of putting the other half of her tiny sandwich in the box. “You have pretty good table manners for a guy.”
I laugh and her smile deepens. Her compliment is ridiculous. It’s been a long time since I cared about having any manners at all. I stand and hold a hand out to help her up, practicing more of my rusty social etiquette. She keeps her hand in mine as we walk to the cash register. I don’t let go to pay, using my other hand to fish my wallet out and find some money for the bill and tip. Holding the door open for her, I wait for her to walk through before following.
Out on the street, Vera swings our hands as we walk back to her motel. The night is cool and I fight the urge to put my arm around her and bring her in close. She seems content with the way things are, so I don’t push. When we get to her door I shake her hand and tell her I had a good time and thank her like we just went out on a date. There’s a funny quizzical twist to her lips as I back away, waving. I make sure she’s safely inside before getting into Cora’s car and driving off.
Chapter 6
Vera
Since I texted Beau the links to Marie’s social media pages he’s been sending me little notes—sometimes questions about the case and sometimes funny, brief comments about his day. His are the only texts I get, so every time my phone pings with a message I know it’s from him. My stomach flutters at the sound and I can feel a grin forming before I even look at the screen. This guy makes me want to believe in things I didn’t think would be mine to believe in.
My phone pings with another message.
Beau: Meet me at the agency office at six o’clock.
Me: Did you find out something about Marie?
Him: Yes.
I stare at his one-word answer, my heart banging against my ribs.
Me: Did you find her?
Little dots appear on the screen like he’s typing his response, and then they disappear without his reply. Twenty minutes tick by with nothing from him. Those minutes stretch into an hour. Just as I’m about to climb into my car to head over to the office to demand he tell me what’s going, on my phone pings.
Him: No. Sorry. Had to help Cora with another case. I need to show you something.
Me: What?
Him: Marie has a Tumblr account.
Me: Send me the link.
Him: I need to show you. Meet me tonight.
Me: Fine.
Him: You’re pissed.
Me: Duh.
I can almost hear him laughing.
Him: Sorry. I’m tied up with Cora stuff till then. Or we can meet tomorrow…
Me: No. Tonight.
Him: (smiling emoji)
Him: Cora just put an emoji keyboard app on my phone.
Me: Is this the important work you’re tied up with?
Him: No (whistling emoji)
Me: Right.
Him: (angel emoji)
Me: Are you going to stop using words entirely now?
Him: (thumps-up emoji)
Me: (angry emoji)
Him: (sunglasses emoji)
Me: Stop it!
Him: Sorry. Gotta go. Cora’s giving me the evil eye. See you tonight?
Me: Yeah.