A Chip and a Chair (Seven of Spades, #5)(104)
“No comment,” he said automatically.
She blinked, then shook her head with a chuckle. “Oh no, I’m not a reporter. But if I could have a minute of your time, I think you’d be very interested in what I have to say.”
Walking as if in a daze, Levi met Dominic on the sidewalk outside the bar a few minutes later. Dominic took one look at him and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Do you think McBride would let you extend your sabbatical?”
Dominic snorted. “After the flood of positive press and big-ticket clients my new and improved reputation has brought the firm? I’m pretty sure she’d give me her firstborn if I asked. Why?”
“Because I just agreed to sell the rights to my life story for half a million dollars,” Levi said. “Let’s go on vacation.”
Dominic loved rising without an alarm.
He and Levi never drew the curtains in the bedroom, so every day, he woke naturally and by degrees to the sunlight slanting across their bed. Because the tree-shaded lake house had southwestern exposure, that usually happened mid-morning.
Today, Dominic woke before Levi. He spent a few lazy minutes luxuriating in the pleasure of not being on a schedule, then got out of bed and motioned to Rebel. She yawned and hopped down to follow him.
He moved as quietly as he could; the hardwood flooring tended to creak, especially on the stairs. The house was an interesting juxtaposition of woodsy and modern, with pine-paneled walls, natural stone fireplaces, and rustic furniture contrasted against giant flatscreen TVs and the kitchen’s top-of-the-line steel appliances. There was no need to turn on the lights, as wide picture windows flooded the house with a warm, sunny glow.
His first stop was the kitchen, where he grabbed a cranberry muffin from the batch he’d baked yesterday. Then he went out to the backyard with Rebel so she could do her business. While she frisked around the towering trees, he ate his muffin and gazed at the shimmering waters of Lake Kawaguesaga-the shore of which was only fifty feet from their back door.
They’d rented this house in Minocqua, Wisconsin, for the entire summer. It was exactly what they’d needed: a secluded, tranquil retreat from the rest of the world. Although there were other houses in the area, the combination of the dense woods, the curve of the shoreline, and the sheer size of the lake meant that they couldn’t even be heard by the neighbors, much less seen.
After he finished his muffin, he and Rebel returned to the master suite. She got back in bed with Levi, but Dominic had other plans. He showered, shaved, and dressed; when he was done, Levi was still fast asleep.
Dominic leaned over the side of the bed to speak softly in Levi’s ear. “Baby, I’m going to the farmer’s market, okay?”
Levi didn’t open his eyes. “Mmm.”
“Anything you want me to get?”
“Coffee,” Levi mumbled.
“We brought enough coffee with us to last a year.”
Levi just grumbled drowsily, flung an arm over Rebel, and buried his face in her neck. She happily squirmed closer.
Grinning, Dominic kissed them both in turn and left the room.
When they’d first arrived, Dominic had been worried about how much time Levi spent sleeping. Levi had been an early riser since childhood, but he’d been sleeping late all summer-often later than Dominic, who was notorious for sleeping in.
After that first week, though, Dominic had realized that this wasn’t the kind of oversleeping that accompanied depression. It was more like Levi was catching up on years of accumulated sleep debt.
Logically, Dominic knew that sleep didn’t work that way. But there was no denying the evidence: Levi was alert and refreshed during the day. He relaxed more with each passing week; there was color in his cheeks and no dark circles under his eyes. Most tellingly, he hadn’t had a nightmare in a month.
Dominic retrieved the envelope of cash Levi had set out in the kitchen last night. They rarely left the lake house, so they hadn’t needed a lot of cash on hand, but Levi did have a supply hidden somewhere. He doled it out as needed for Dominic’s shopping expeditions.
Dominic hadn’t been tempted to search for the stash. There was nowhere to gamble out here anyway; they’d even shut off the house’s Wi-Fi. This was the closest thing to rehab he’d ever experienced.
He got in his pickup and started the five-minute drive into town, leaving the windows open to enjoy the cool, fresh air and the smell of trees. Summer in Wisconsin was so different from summer in Las Vegas that they could have been on different planets.
Here, it would have been a lot more comfortable to wear a jacket to cover his shoulder holster, but he didn’t need to. He’d stopped carrying a gun on him, even though Wisconsin had reciprocity with Nevada for concealed carry licenses. The loss of that extra weight had been an adjustment, after he’d gotten used to being perpetually armed during the last few months before Natasha’s death.
He did keep a gun locked in his glove compartment, though.
The twice-weekly farmer’s market was in full swing when he arrived. He grabbed his tote bags and hopped out of his truck to begin perusing the stalls.
Their vacation had provided him with the opportunity to stretch his culinary skills in ways he’d never had time to before. He’d been setting challenges for himself all summer: making pasta, bread, and baked goods from scratch; nailing the perfect risotto; experimenting with shellfish-free paella recipes. His plan today was to make a healthy, flavorful meal that he could cook entirely on the backyard grill.