He pulled the truck to a stop in his driveway beside Reese’s new truck. “You comin’ in?”
“Nope. But I’ll be back to pick you up at seven.”
“I’ll be ready,” he said, grinning. “Bring flowers.”
Reese rolled his eyes, hopped out of the truck. There were no lingering goodbyes, not even a quick peck on the lips before Reese was in his truck and heading out. Brantley wondered if that would ever be something Reese was okay with.
Because he had a couple of hours and required only ten minutes to get ready, Brantley headed for the barn.
Rather than sit at his desk, he marched to the bank of monitors he’d had originally, keyed in a few things, and pulled up information on William Dugan. There was something about the professor that didn’t sit right with him.
Of course, on paper the guy looked perfect.
Too perfect, in fact.
He was raised by a two-parent household in north Dallas, and both parents were dead, having been married for fifty-eight years. Dugan fast-tracked it through his secondary education, finishing high school early at the age of sixteen with a GPA of 4.1. Went on to the University of Texas. Bachelor’s degree in education with a minor in English. Worked as a tenth grade English teacher at two Austin high schools while getting his master’s degree in school administration. Hired as principal at Coyote Ridge High School at the below-average age of thirty-eight. Started one year before Lauren Tyler went missing, stayed on for another four years. Transitioned to English professor at UT, where he was currently employed.
“And where do you live now, Professor Dugan?” Brantley muttered as he keyed in a few more commands.
Hmm.
Seemed as though Dugan wasn’t a fan of staying in one place for too long. He’d bought and sold six houses in the past nine years. Looked as though he waited a little more than the required eighteen months to avoid paying capital gains taxes at each residence. Now lived in a historic home in Taylor, just a few miles northeast of Coyote Ridge.
Perhaps they should pay Professor Dugan a visit at home. Drop in unannounced, see how the man reacted.
In the meantime, Brantley would also look into this Jason Montgomery just so he could check off the box and say he had. He doubted it would lead him anywhere, but he wasn’t going to leave it to chance. Last thing he wanted was to leave any stone unturned.
***
Christ Almighty, he was nervous.
As Reese pulled down Brantley’s drive just a few minutes shy of seven, he couldn’t deny his stomach was pitching left and right. It didn’t necessarily bother him as much as it intrigued him. When was the last time he’d been on a date and had any reservations whatsoever going into it? More importantly, why would he? He knew Brantley, knew what to expect from the man.
“Maybe you wanna impress the guy,” he muttered as he pulled his truck in behind Brantley’s.
Snagging his Resistol hat from the passenger seat, Reese put it on his head and climbed out. He found himself standing taller as he made his way to the porch. His boots were clean, his jeans starched, and the navy blue button-down he wore was ironed. He looked good, if he did say so himself. In fact, he’d even sprayed on some cologne with the hopes of catching Brantley’s attention. Of course, he had also fought the urge to take another shower because he didn’t want to overdo it, either.
Dates sucked.
Rather than waltz into Brantley’s house like he was wont to do, Reese rapped his knuckles on the screen door, stepped back.
Once more, he smoothed down his shirt, took a deep breath.
From inside the house, he heard the sound of footsteps, Brantley making his way to the door. He heard the knob turn, the creak as the door opened.
At that point, when Brantley appeared framed in the doorway, Reese was pretty sure his heart stopped. He had no idea why. Brantley looked not much different than usual. He’d gone with a white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up over his muscular forearms, unbuttoned at the throat. The Stetson on his head was a nice touch.
Very nice touch.
“I’m nervous,” he blurted as Brantley pushed open the screen.
Brantley’s smirk was slow and sexy. “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah. You look … edible.”
Brantley chuckled. “You look pretty damn good yourself.”
When the man took a step closer, canting his head to the side, Reese held his breath.
“Smell good, too,” Brantley whispered. “Almost too good to go out.”
“Almost?” Reese rasped.
Brantley took a step back. “Although gettin’ you naked’s definitely at the very, very top of my priority list, I’m hungry.”
Some of the tension eased, even as his nerves continued to riot. “You ready?”
“Yep.” Brantley pulled the door shut behind him, didn’t bother locking it. “Gonna tell me where we’re goin’?”
“Nope.”
They started for the truck. “Gonna tell me why you’re nervous?”
