Page 37 of Born for Starlight

I looked out the window at the parking lot.

"Friday," he said, warm as anything. "It will be there on Thursday. I will ensure that you look good for the pictures.”

Shit, he’s right, with Angelica there will be pictures. Kill me.

I set the phone down, and for one minute, exactly one, I let myself think about ivory, and a woman ordering me around about tie colors while she walked out of a diner she'd just conquered.

Then the draft folder came back up behind my eyes the way these things always did, in the quiet after something good.

They’re making plans for her arrival.

Yeah. Well.

I had plans for her here, too. Mine ran deeper, and mine had teeth.

They could look forward to her arrival all they wanted.

But I'd be there, and they weren’t planning on that.

The BMW was a mistake, according to every professional standard I had. It gave too much away about who I really was, but I really didn’t give a shit. I’d rented it anyway.

I'd driven to Nashville on Thursday for it, an M8 in a gray so deep it was nearly black, and the kid at the rental desk had treated the transaction with awe. From a tactical standpoint it made perfect sense. It had a low profile in the literal sense, sight lines, and an engine that could solve problems if problems needed solving. I told myself this lie all the way to Jasper Creek.

The truth was simpler and stupider. I wanted to see her face when she saw it.

At three forty on Saturday afternoon I pulled up in front of her place, ivory in my tie, and she came out the door before I reached it, because of course she did, this woman was always ready, damn near always a step ahead of me, at least in social settings.

She stopped on the porch step.

She looked at the car. She looked at me, suit to shoes and back up again. She took her time, in a way that kicked up my pulse. Then she looked at the car.

“I don’t think the rental place in Knoxville had this sitting around.”

“It didn’t.”

“Nashville?”

I nodded.

“For a wedding in Jasper Creek, where we’re going to have to park in a field?”

"It has all-wheel drive."

Her mouth kicked up into a smile.

Damn, I love that smile. That real smile.

Now I looked her up and down. She had a garment bag over one arm, which accounted for her tank top and shorts. She had a tablet and a huge canvas tote under her other arm, that I was guessing contained half the needed contingency wedding paraphernalia.

“I see you understood part of the assignment,” she said as I opened the passenger seat door and admired her long legs as she slid into the car.

"You're the one who told me ivory."

"I did, didn't I?" She settled into the seat and looked up at me, and there was a flicker of heat, quick and real. "You listened."

"I listen to everything you say." I shut her door before she could see what that sentence did to my face, walked around the hood, and got myself squared away by the time I was behind the wheel. "Where am I going?"

"The farm. And drive fast, I have a string quartet arriving at four thirty and a child lieutenant who will absolutely start without me."