Atone (Recovered Innocence #2)(11)

“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.



I glance at the clock. Three whole hours until I meet him. I open a new window on my computer and try to find Marie’s secret account that Beau found. It would have to be a secret for her not to friend me. What’s on there? What is she hiding? After half an hour I give up. I clearly don’t have the same skills Beau has. Or the patience.

I go back to working on the book cover I’m creating for a client. Graphics has been a passion of mine since a class I took freshman year in high school. I’ve been able to make a business out of it and support myself after scraping together the money to buy my first computer. I use a file-hosting site to store all my projects in case I have to take off and leave my computer behind. I funnel client payments through online accounts so I don’t have to rely on banks. Basically, it’s a way for me to earn money anywhere, and I love doing it.

I finish a mock-up for a client and send it off just in time to hop in the car and head over to the agency. The door’s unlocked, but the receptionist isn’t at her desk. I wait in the reception area for a moment, hoping someone will show up. Voices draw me down the hall. A deep, rich laugh like hot coffee on a cold morning drifts from a doorway on the right. It’s Beau. Caught by the sound, I put a hand on the wall to steady my suddenly weakened knees. I can’t move. He laughs again, but stops abruptly as though he’s allotted only so much time and not a second more.

“Can I help you?”

My hand automatically goes to my thigh as I spin around to see the man who snuck up behind me.

He puts his palms up in an I’m harmless gesture. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I’m here to see Beau.”

He takes me in from the top of my head to my toes and back again. When he’s done I have the urge to knee him in the nuts. His face splits into a grin that’s meant to be sexy but comes off as overconfident. This guy’s a player, but he’s not using his moves on me. Yet. He does this thing with his head that knocks the hair out of his eyes. Another come-on move meant to draw female attention.