Chapter Twenty-Eight
Eliot
The dull hum of conversation is almost enough to settle my nerves.
Rachel’s on Sixth has been a fixture in this town for a dozen years.
And yet, before tonight, the only time I’ve stepped inside was when we responded to a kitchen fire a few months after they opened.
It’s known for its quiet, romantic atmosphere, and I’ve never had anyone to share that kind of meal with.
Parker’s sitting in the little waiting area just inside the door.
Holy hell.
My heart half jumps out of my chest. No dress shirt. No Ranger double belt. No gun at her hip. No braid.
Gold, amber, and honeyed flax waves tumble past her shoulders, down to a green silk tank that shows off her toned arms. Flowing black pants end just above her ankles. Her toes are painted a deep red.
I forget to breathe until she stands and crosses to me. God, she smells amazing. Not just her shampoo, but something richer that gives all that bare skin a warm glow.
“Were you waitin’ long?” I ask, sliding one hand to the small of her back so I can press a brief kiss to her lips.
Her cheeks turn bright red. “Ten minutes. But that’s because my GPS thinks I’m always in Nate’s car and adjusts for his ridiculous rule about driving ten miles an hour under the speed limit.”
“I reckon you could call one of your State Trooper friends to write him a ticket,” I offer. “Drivin’ that slow can be a hazard too.”
Her laugh shakes her shoulders, and what it does to her face…I’m a goner.
But as the hostess shows us to our table, every intrusive thought, every fear, every ounce of guilt I’ve carried since I first laid eyes on Parker Elmore comes rushing back.
She’s a Ranger. Intelligent, trained to investigate, and probably more than a little curious—and potentially concerned—after today.
She’ll have pulled my file by now. Read about the fire that ended my career, ruined my body, and took Zack’s life.
She’ll ask about him. And I’ll have to tell her he was only there because of me.
The little corner table gives us a bit of privacy, thank fuck. If tonight ends the way I fear it will—with Parker deciding she can’t be with someone responsible for his mentee’s death—at least my humiliation won’t be on full display.
Parker doesn’t pick up her menu right away. She leans forward and curls her fingers around my wrist. “Today was hard. It means a lot to me that you understand why. That we’re doing this—something so ridiculously normal—after the press conference, after talking with the Castillos, after…everything.”
I turn my hand palm up, mirroring her position and rubbing my thumb over her pulse point. “This can just be dinner. Or we can say ‘fuck it’ right now and try this on Saturday instead.”
Her blue eyes soften. “If we waited for the perfect time, we’d be waitin’ for the rest of our lives. We’ve done all we can today. A good meal with good company…? That’ll let us start fresh tomorrow.”
“Just a meal?”
She grins. “We’ll see.”
A small part of me thrills at her words. Maybe she hasn’t read my file. Maybe she doesn’t care. Maybe we’ll have at least one night together before she runs for the hills. And maybe…that one night will be enough for a lifetime.
I keep my nerves in check through a round of cinnamon smoked Old Fashioneds and cheese-stuffed dates.
The conversation flows easily. Favorite books and movies, our mutual hatred of paperwork, and a shared amazement that anyone would look at tree bark and think, “Oh, we should grind that up and put it in food.”
But when the server delivers our meals—pan-fried catfish over dirty rice for her and braised short ribs with cheesy grits for me—the quiet gives my nerves time to catch up, and my appetite runs for the hills.
“Eliot? You’re not eating.” Parker sets her fork down, a piece of fish still balanced on the tines. “If this thing we’re startin’ ends up in Urgent Care again, we might need to consider that a bad omen.”
This thing we’re starting…
I lift my gaze to hers. “Last night…and that reporter today… You’ve read my file.”
“No…” She frowns, drawing the word out like I’ve just told her the sky’s green.
My brows shoot up. “Why the hell not? You heard his question, Parker. Badly injured in a fire that killed a colleague—”
“Now look here, Eliot. What I heard was an asshole thinkin’ he could sensationalize what I’m pretty sure was the worst day of your life.
That don’t fly with me, which is the reason I stepped in.
Emi Marsh is a friend of mine, and I knew she’d focus on what really mattered today.
Catching the fucker setting these fires and gettin’ justice for Delia and June. ”
I don’t have a reply for her. My head fills with static, a dozen thoughts chattering at the same time, each one fighting to either spare me or damn me in her eyes.
The silence goes on too long, and Parker leans close enough to rest her hand on my thigh under the table.
“I figure tonight goes one of two ways. Either we scratch the itch we’ve both been trying to ignore for days and move on, or we start something real.
If it’s the first, you can keep all the secrets you want.
If it’s the second… I don’t want to learn about you from a file.
And I sure as shit don’t want you to tell me a damn thing until you’re ready. ”
I open my mouth to reply, then close it again. She’s giving me the one thing I don’t deserve.
Understanding.
And I have no idea how to tell her she’s making a mistake.
Parker takes my hand in both of hers. “When—if—you decide to trust me with your past, I’ll listen. Until then, just know I see you, Eliot Flint. All of you. And it’s a damn fine sight to behold.”