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Brenda. He’d recognize that hair anywhere, even from the back. She sat at one of the round ironwork tables, so small they were only suitable for two. Romantic, intimate. Across from her sat a man in a patchwork corduroy blazer and jeans. He sipped from an espresso cup as he gazed into Brenda’s eyes.
Galen backed up and hit the door with his ass. The contact made a surprisingly loud bang, which caught the man’s attention, and suddenly his gaze was on Galen instead of Brenda.
No. Don’t turn around, he thought desperately. He didn’t want Brenda to see him right now. He was having a Galen moment, one of those times when he felt awkward and clumsy around anything having to do with civilized society. Had he just broken Rick’s fancy beveled-glass door?
“Galen!” That was Brenda, calling to him. She’d turned to look his way and was now rising to her feet. “Are you okay?”
He didn’t answer, just turned and walked out the door—using the knob this time—and hurried away down the street.
Obviously that man was in love with Brenda. She was probably dating him. No wonder she hadn’t called him. Maybe she had an actual boyfriend to show off to her mother now. What mother wouldn’t love a man in a corduroy blazer?
Goddamn it, he kinda wished a concrete block had dropped on him instead of this.
six
“Who was that?” Duncan leaned to one side to watch Galen as he rushed away down the street. “I thought it was a Yeti.”
Brenda wished she could dash after Galen and make sure he hadn’t hurt himself when he banged into that door. But it would be rude to ditch someone her favorite colleague had set her up with. He was a professor at a nearby community college, which meant he’d start off with solid points on her mother’s suitability index. Not as many points as a surgeon or a corporate lawyer or, best of all, someone independently wealthy—but a few.
“He’s a friend of mine.” She put enough reproof in her voice to get the point across.
“Sorry. He looks like a real character. We have a few of those types wandering around our campus.”
“Those types?”
Duncan shrugged. “Lumberjack types. Great guys, for the most part. It’s hard work.”
“Galen is a wilderness guide. And a great guy,” she added. Even though she’d met Galen so recently, she felt confident in saying so.
“Maybe I’ll hire him for my upcoming epic inner journey.” He paused, giving her a chance to weigh in with an “ooh, tell me more.” But she couldn’t summon up enough enthusiasm for that. She felt as if she already knew everything there was to know about Duncan Scott.
That didn’t seem fair, so she forced herself to offer him a politely curious smile. “Oh?”
“I’m going to spend three days in a cabin on the Mackinak Trail. No cell phone, no internet, no food. Just water. I’m taking my notebook and my meditation pillow and nothing else. I’m pulling a Thoreau.”
“Well, don’t come back until you’ve hit your quota of deep thoughts.”
He didn’t laugh at her quip. “Everyone tells me it will change my life. I’ll come back a different person.”
“A hungrier one, for sure.”
Yet another quip that he didn’t seem to appreciate.
“You should talk to Galen. He’s an excellent guide, and I’m sure he’s spent plenty of time alone in the wilderness. He can probably give you some good survival tips.”
“This isn’t about mere survival. It’s a spiritual quest. I don’t need anyone else for that. This is about getting in touch with my own inner guide.”
That sounded arrogant to her. A bear wouldn’t care if Duncan was on an inner quest. But whatever. “When is this happening?”
“As soon as my gear arrives. I more or less bought out Gore-Tex.” He started listing off all the items that were being shipped to him. She tried to imagine Galen fitting himself out with all the latest high-tech athleisure-wear, and nearly laughed out loud.
She tuned out of the conversation after that, and began mentally brainstorming her villain’s next murder. He’d surprise everyone this time and do it with a crossbow. Her villain liked to be unpredictable because he knew the police looked for patterns. His biggest thrill was outwitting the frustrated detectives who were trying to track him down. She was still trying to nail down his back story. Maybe he had some longstanding hatred for law enforcement. Maybe his brother had been framed and wrongly imprisoned, and now he was out for revenge.
Duncan was still going on about his quest, but she’d had enough of the conversation. On Monday, she’d thank Marissa for the thought, but tell her it wasn’t a match. On the bright side, I got some brainstorming done, she’d say.
She realized with a start that Duncan was waiting for an answer to a question she’d missed. “Sorry, what was that again?”
“The phone number of that guide. Do you have it? I want to know if I should bring firewood or if there’s plenty out there.”
