Chapter Seven
“S o, we’ve got a deluxe cheeseburger platter, a BLT with a side of macaroni salad, and a slice of carrot cheesecake. Any drinks with that?” Seneca was sure Martha-Jean meant soft drinks and the like. After the day Seneca’d had, the only drink that could tempt her was a few shots of tequila.
“No thanks, Martha-Jean,” she answered. “I’ll grab something back at the ranch. Please don’t forget my carrot cheesecake. It’s been a hell of a day already and that little slice of heaven is the only thing that will make things right again.”
“Poor thing,” Martha-Jean cooed. “In that case, I’ll make sure to cut it extra thick for you and add some whip cream on top.”
Seneca hummed into the phone, her sweet tooth already aching for the tasty confection. “Thank you, Martha-Jean. Only my mama could treat me better than you.”
She ended the call and made her way into Bitterman’s Electronics. Despite his name, Mr. Bitterman was a kind man who greeted her with a smile every time she walked into his store.
“Afternoon, Seneca.” His blue eyes shone bright with excitement as she stepped toward the counter.
A thin, short, middle-aged white man with more white than dark brown hair and glasses sitting at the tip of his nose, closed the notebook he was writing in before she stepped in front of him.
“It’s been what, a whole week since you last stopped by? That’s a record for you.”
“It is.” She laughed. “It’s been busy. But I need to order some new servers for the ranch, so I needed to come in.”
He waved his hand. “You didn’t need to come down here for all that. With as much money as you spend here, I would’ve gladly taken the order over the phone.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t mind coming in. If I wanted to order remotely, I could’ve gone online. But if I do that, who’s gonna talk with me about tech stuff in a language I understand.”
He gave her a friendly chuckle. “Tired of dumbing it down for the non-tech folks on the ranch?”
She waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Nah, I don’t mind. It’s just… sometimes it’s nice to not have to explain things to death before someone gets it.”
He pointed a finger at her. “Or to not bore your audience to death with all the details. The missus puts on a pretty smile when I talk to her about my gadgets, but I can tell it’s about as exciting as watching paint dry for her.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. From the day she’d first discovered her love of technology, she’d gotten similar looks from any of the laymen she’d talked to as well.
But here, she and Mr. Bitterman could talk about the latest and greatest with enthusiasm during her extended browsing sessions whenever she came into the shop.
Coming here was always a welcome distraction, a way for her to get lost in the fun parts of her work.
And after finding out the truth about Colton, dealing with Hastings, and then spending the last couple of hours in her bed enjoying every inch of Colton’s body, she needed a distraction to get her head on straight.
Just thinking about the fire he stirred within her with a simple stroke of his finger or tongue on her skin made it hard for her to string two thoughts together.
“Seneca, you okay?”
The sound of Mr. Bitterman’s voice snapped her out of the replay of Colton’s hands and mouth all over her body. “I’m fine,” she answered a little too quickly. “Why do you ask?”
He tilted his head to the side, like he was trying to get a better look at her. “You seemed a little flushed. You running a temperature?”
Good Lord. What was the point of being a dark-skinned Black woman if you couldn’t hide your blush just a little bit?
“Oh,” she said casually, before looking down at her watch to camouflage her nervousness. “I just remembered that I placed an order at the dinner. If I don’t get there soon, Martha-Jean’s liable to sell my slice of carrot cheesecake.”
His shoulders shook again with another chuckle. “Then we’d better get you on out of here. You know the lunch crowd arrives in about thirty minutes. You’d better head on over there immediately.”
She quickly placed her order and paid for it. With a receipt in tow and wave to Mr. Bitterman, she exited the shop, got in her vehicle and drove the few blocks up the road to get to the diner.
She walked into the empty eatery, relieved she’d made it during the late morning, early afternoon lull.
Martha-Jean waved her over to the counter before pointing to her waiting order in a large paper bag.
Seneca made quick small talk as she paid for her food, then headed back out the door.
The quicker she could get home and dig into her cheesecake, the better she’d be able to process her thoughts about Colton.
She stepped out of the diner and headed for the parking lot. The lot was empty, save for a tall, lean Black man walking toward the diner while looking down at his phone. Apparently, he was as distracted as she was, because he walked right into her, nearly knocking her down.
Thank goodness his reflexes were better than his ability to walk and chew gum at the same time, because if he hadn’t reached out and steadied her with a quickly outstretched hand, she’d be on the ground with her food that was currently strewn across the asphalt next to her boot.
“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. That was completely my fault. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” Seneca replied.
“Are you okay?” He stepped back, taking his hand off her arm and stepping away from her.
She nodded. “I am,” she answered. “But my lunch order didn’t fare so well.
” She pointed to food littering the ground.
She bent down to start putting the food back in the bag so she could discard it into a nearby garbage can.
He joined her, doing most of the work and tossing the food into the trash bin.
“Look, let me replace your order.”
She shook her head. “That’s not necessary. It was an accident.”
“Yeah, one that could’ve been avoided if I hadn’t been so attached to my screen. Please, I feel bad. Let me pay for it.”
The pitiful contrite face he wore rubbed away any agitation she had. She nodded, and he stepped aside to let her walk ahead in the direction of the diner.
They stood at the counter where he gave her another apologetic smile before he turned to Martha-Jean. “Hey, I accidentally destroyed her lunch order. Could you make another and add it to my bill?”
Martha-Jean smiled and patted Seneca’s hand. “No worries darling. Your slice of carrot cheesecake was the first. There’s more than enough to replace it.”
Relief swept through Seneca, as long as she could get her dessert, there wasn’t a reason to be mad at the stranger.
“I’ll have a turkey club deluxe and a slice of that carrot cheesecake since it seems so popular. After my slice, pack the rest of it up for my friend here and put it in her order.”
Now she definitely couldn’t be mad. That was at least six slices by her count, and if Colton remained at the ranch for the rest of his leave, she was sure she’d tear through that in a matter of days.
“That wasn’t really necessary,” Seneca said. “A slice would’ve sufficed.”
“Again”—he smiled—“I feel really bad. I’m just trying to make up for my clumsiness. Why don’t we have a seat while our food’s being prepared?”
He walked ahead of her and didn’t stop until they’d reached the back of the diner.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said as he waited for her to slide into the booth before following suit. “I know this place is about to get crazy and I’d rather not have to deal with other patrons.”
He extended his hand and offered her another smile. “I’m Holden.”
She accepted his handshake as she said, “I’m Seneca. Are you new around here? Can’t say I remember seeing you in here before.”
“Good observation skills. I’m in Fresh Springs on business. Just arrived yesterday.”
“This town is really small. It’s not hard to spot a new face. If you don’t mind me asking, what kind of business could you have here? Fresh Springs isn’t really a metropolis with a lot of corporate options.”
He leaned back, the corner of his mouth lifting into a half smile that intrigued her while making her slightly uncomfortable. “I don’t mind at all, especially since my work involves you, Seneca Daniels.”
Cold spread through her as realization took root and suspicion rose up like bile in the back of her throat. “Who are you? How do you know my name and what do you want?”
“My name is Holden Eames.” He reached in his pocket and pulled his wallet out and rested it on the table.
He slid it to her and waited for her to pick it up.
She didn’t even open the fold all the way before his badge was in full view.
Her stomach sank and panic filled her. She was slipping.
She should’ve been able to spot law enforcement a mile away.
This is Colton’s fault. He’s got me too distracted.
Sure, he was tall and in shape, but he didn’t have that air of authority about him that many law enforcement agents carried, the one that said, I believe I’m the biggest, baddest thing on the block because of my badge and gun.
“What could the FBI possibly want with me? I served my time and I’m obeying the rules of my parole. As far as the law is concerned, I’m just a regular citizen.”
“Oh, I don’t think there’s anything regular about you,” he said with a wink. “Especially your hacking skills. According to your rap sheet, those skills in particular are extraordinary.”
She took a slow breath in and then released it quietly. “For the second time, I’m gonna ask you what you want with me. If you don’t answer, I’m gonna call my lawyer and have her ask you.”
He chuckled, grabbing his badge and sliding it easily back into his pocket. “No need to get formal—this is just a friendly conversation. You and I have interest in a mutual acquaintance. I’d like you to help me gather some information on this person.”