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Turning onto the road that would take me home, I considered the evening ahead. Yesterday morning, I’d heard back from Paige Trent, the chef and owner of Season’s Bounty, about catering the event. She’d sent me a proposal and suggested that I come tonight for a tasting of her suggested items. Including the desserts.
Megan and I had both enjoyed the meal on Monday night. I wasn’t sure if my enthusiasm was because of the food or the company, but I couldn’t very well say anything about that. So I was planning to go solo to the tasting tonight. Just to be sure.
But I had two hours to kill between now and then.
I could go home. But if I did that, I’d get comfortable, and leaving again was going to be hard. I could swing by Tristan’s and see if I could get him to spill the beans about what was going on with him. He’d been acting off for a few weeks now—we’d all noticed it—but he brushed it aside as being case related.
What were we supposed to do when faced with the whole attorney privilege thing?
Before I’d consciously decided on it, I was parallel parking a few stores down from the bookstore. When I’d parked, I sat in the car with the engine off. This was a bad idea. A seriously bad idea.
What excuse was I going to use when Megan asked why I was there? Because she’d totally ask. It wasn’t as if I was known for reading. In fact, given the option, I’d watch TV or stare at a blank wall before I’d pick up a book.
Everyone knew it.
I could read. I just didn’t love it. It took a lot of effort to translate words on a page into the movie that was supposed to take place in my head when I was reading. At least, that was what everyone always told me was supposed to happen. Usually when I read, it was just words. I understood what they meant. I followed the story. But there were no magical moving pictures in my brain.
Which made TV and movies a lot more interesting. Sue me.
I blew out a breath that ended on a half-chuckle. Here I was, getting defensive about something literally no one in our group ever gave me grief about.
But they would if they found out I was suddenly haunting the bookstore.
A knock on the passenger window had me glancing over. I forced a smile when I saw Scott, Whitney, and Beckett.
“Hey, Cody.” Scott shot me a look full of curiosity.
Great. Just fantastic. I checked for traffic before opening my door and getting out. “Hey. You guys out for a family walk?”
“Ice cream!” Beckett bounced up and down while holding Whitney’s hand. Then he reached for Scott’s hand, too, and picked up his feet. His parents lifted him up and gave him a swing without any appearance of conscious thought.
“Yum. Can I join you?” Ice cream was a better idea than bothering Megan. And it wasn’t going to spoil my appetite. I’d been so involved in labels and stamps today that I’d had a snack pack of peanut butter crackers for lunch out of the vending machine in the break room. Satisfying and filling were not the adjectives I’d use for that as a meal.
“Sure. More the merrier.” Scott gave me a searching look. “Is that why you were parking here?”
I shook my head.
Whitney smirked at me but didn’t say anything.
I ignored it. There was no reason to smirk. I hadn’t let on to anyone—other than Austin, one time, in a weak moment—about my feelings for Megan.
“Ice cream!” Beckett’s voice had less elation and the beginning of a whine in it.
I laughed. “Someone’s ready.”
“Beck. We’re getting there.” But even as he chided, Scott turned toward the ice cream shop and reached for the door.
“So. What brings you all out for ice cream on a Thursday evening?” I waited for Whitney to enter the shop before addressing my question to Scott.
“It’s kind of an anniversary.” Whitney hoisted Beckett onto her hip and approached the glass-fronted case.
Scott grinned. “One year ago, I picked up Beckett at the airport. And got Whitney as a bonus.”
Whitney laughed. “I don’t think you considered me a bonus a year ago.”
“I don’t know. I was getting pretty desperate for childcare. Especially when my last hope called to let me know there were no openings when we were standing there in the parking garage at the airport.” Scott tucked his hands in his pockets.
“It worked out.” Whitney brushed a kiss on Beckett’s forehead and sent Scott a look so full of love, I wondered if I should sneak outside and leave them alone.
