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“You can’t leave before we get a goodbye,” Staci said as she reached them. She grabbed Waverley and hugged her before stepping back as Lexi did the same.
“You take care of yourself now and be sure to mark your calendar for the second week in August for our wedding,” Lexi said. “No excuses.”
They turned to him next. “And you. I’m glad that you’re going to be there for Waverley.”
“You know we weren’t really dat—” Waverley started to say.
“I will,” he said firmly.
Staci hugged him, taking a second to whisper, “You two are good for each other. Don’t let her get away.”
They stepped back as he and Waverley got into the car, waving as they watched them drive away.
Waverley looked back at the house, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment in worry. “Do you think that Ronnie will put it together about Taggart?”
“Maybe. Or maybe he’ll choose to believe that the kid is his. Ronnie’s a relatively good guy. He might just do the right thing.”
“I hope so.” She sat back and looked out the window.
Today had been a heck of a ride for her. It couldn’t have been easy hearing about Spencer’s infidelity stretching back to the beginning of their relationship or the fact he’d fathered a child with someone else.
The only solace they could take from the whole thing was that Spencer was back in federal custody where he wouldn’t be getting another opportunity to escape again and cause more harm. So far he’d refused to give any details about where he’d hidden the money. But it was early. He would fold eventually.
Reynolds cast a glance to the woman in question, lost in her thoughts.
What would he give to know what she was thinking about right now.
Was she thinking about Spencer and the life they once had? Or was she looking ahead to the future and all the possibilities?
Possibilities that might include him.
Chapter 24
It was a little after seven by the time Reynolds got into the office the next morning. Immediately he went to his desk and booted up the computer, wanting to get a fix on the latest news without interruption from his housemates, Conner and Tyler, who were wanting a play-by-play of what had gone down in Key West.
News of Spencer’s capture was definitely getting a lot of attention, as was the fact that his ex-wife and a private investigator had been a part of law enforcement’s efforts to track him down.
The current clip he was watching featured Julie and Bryant describing how they’d single-handedly tackled the guy and held him until law enforcement arrived. The others gave him and Waverley a little more credit for the capture, which was probably why he already had four calls from reporters wanting to interview him. He could only imagine how many calls Waverley was getting—that is, if they’d been successful in tracking her down.
No one was going to expect heiress Waverley Abbott to be living in a hovel of an apartment in the tiny mountain town of Blue Haven.
There were more clips, clips of Waverley trying to leave a courthouse back in the fall around the time of her divorce, looking beleaguered by the attention, along with photos of her at various society functions over the years and her wedding day. In all of them, her face remained a graceful but emotionless mask.
Not at all like the Waverley he had come to know.
A woman who was finding the joy in life again and learning to be comfortable in her own skin. A woman who brightened any room with her mere presence. A woman who made him feel things that he’d never known he was capable of.
Which was the problem since he had no idea how long she’d be around or how he’d feel once she was out of his life. How long would it be before Waverley found the constraints of small-town living too much and she left to return to some semblance of her old life in Denver?
He was busy answering a few emails from new leads when the bell rang above the door. He looked at the clock. Exactly eight thirty in the morning.
An instinct to go to her, see how she was doing gripped him, and it took all his strength not to leave the office.
Ten minutes. He’d give himself ten minutes before going to check on her.
He returned his attention to his computer screen just as her footsteps outside his office had him searching the doorway, but the steps continued, and a moment later, he heard the sound of water from the kitchen on the other side of the wall, followed shortly after with the chugging sound of the old coffeemaker starting to brew.
He looked at the clock. Three minutes down and seven to—
