16. Chapter Sixteen
MATT
Matt stood back in the shadows, watching the scene unfold. The cop-slash-PI was less than smooth. The guy had the stealth of a drunken raccoon. Anna had pegged him as a threat the moment he entered her space.
She had good instincts, that one. Good instincts, but apparently not enough experience to delete her browser history.
Then again, neither did the cop.
It was the work of a minute for Matt to check out the history after the cop skulked off with his little notebook. There wasn’t much to see. Anna had pulled up several online news sites and clicked about half a dozen links. None of them were particularly interesting, with the possible exception of a gubernatorial race in Illinois. Why would she be interested in that? Was that where she was from? Did she know someone there? Have a stake in the outcome?
Matt made a mental note of the names and faces in the article. He’d do some research when he got home later and pass the information on to Ian. If there was any connection there, Ian would find it.
He slipped out of the library, using one of the side exits. A quick check confirmed that Mrs. Campbell’s van was still in the municipal lot, so Anna was around somewhere. He followed his instincts to the public square, a bricked plaza with statues and benches, surrounded by locally owned small businesses on three sides.
It didn’t take long to find her. She was coming out of a bookstore with a small bag in hand. She checked her watch—she did that a lot, he noticed—and crossed to the diner on the other side of the square.
Perfect.
Matt watched as she entered and was seated at a booth in front of the window. After placing her order with the waitress, she pulled out her book and began to read.
He gave her a few minutes to get comfortable, then strolled across the courtyard in plain view, hands in pockets, as if he was in no hurry. He knew exactly when she spotted him. He felt her gaze lock on to him as keenly as if she’d reached out and touched him.
He liked her eyes on him, he decided. Probably more than he should under the circumstances.
Matt remained seemingly oblivious to the dark-eyed enigma behind the plated glass. Upon entering the diner, he took a moment to look around at the available seating. Noted the occupants, the exits. His plan: to pretend to be surprised when he spotted her.
When he turned her way, however, she was very clearly not looking at him. She was hiding behind her book, which looked to be … a romance, based on the ripped guy on the cover.
The opportunity was just too good to resist. His feet moved accordingly. Closer. Closer. He could see her tense, her eyes practically drilling holes into the pages of that book to avoid acknowledging him. It was amusing—and a little humbling, if he was honest.
Sorry, sweetheart. I’m not going away that easily.
“Anna? Fancy meeting you here.”
Not really. Pine Ridge was a small town. She didn’t know it yet, but they were going to have a lot of “chance” encounters. Especially since he’d decided she was his mission for the foreseeable future.
She sighed softly, as if in resignation. To her credit, when she lowered her book, her expression hid the irritation her still-tense shoulders did not. “Oh, hi.”
“Do you mind if I join you?”
A hesitation. If he didn’t have an ulterior motive, he would have taken it for the polite rejection it was. Maybe. There was some truth to the belief that men loved the chase. A woman who wasn’t easily attainable was ten times more interesting than a woman who was, and he did so enjoy a challenge, celibacy rule or not.
He stood by the table expectantly, giving her his best golden retriever puppy imitation.
“Sure,” she said finally, summoning another almost-believable smile as she closed her book and slipped it back into her bag.
“Great.” He slid in across from her. The waitress came by almost immediately. “No need for a menu,” he told her while keeping his eyes solely on Anna. “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”
Anna raised a brow—the biggest reaction he’d gotten from her yet. He felt like popping a fist pump.
“A bit risky, don’t you think?” she asked once the waitress left. “What if I ordered something you don’t like?”
He flashed her a practiced smile. “I like living on the edge, and you seem like a woman who makes good choices.”
She flinched a little at that. He pretended not to notice and stored it away for later consideration.
“So, did Mrs. C finally give you an afternoon off?”
“She’s with her friends. I’m just killing time until they’re done.”
“So, when do you have time off?”
She inclined her head to the side. “Why?”
“Just curious,” he said with a shrug. “I thought since you’re new to the area, I could show you around.”
A small smile. “That’s what GPS is for.”
“If you know exactly where you want to go, sure, GPS will get you there. But it won’t provide the inside intel on the hidden gems our little valley has to offer. You know, best places to eat, see, have fun.”
The server arrived at that moment with their orders, which happened to be the daily special—half a turkey club, fries, and a cup of chicken pastina soup. It was an excellent choice.
“For example,” he continued, popping a fry into his mouth, “if you wanted a truly exceptional burger, you’d go to Dragonfire. And cinnamon rolls? None better than O’Leary’s.”
She said nothing, choosing instead to focus on her soup. He kept the inane conversation going in the hopes of getting her to relax, but by the time he finished his plate, she remained as quiet and reserved as ever.
“Didn’t like the sandwich?” he asked, pointing to her half-eaten club.
“I underestimated the portions.” She looked at her watch. “I have to go,” she said abruptly. She wrapped her untouched sandwich in paper napkins, then stuffed it into her bag.
“Wait, let me give you my number.”
She blinked. “What for?”
“In case you need help or something. Neighbors, remember?”
She considered that for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”
He reached his hand out. “Give me your phone.”
With great reluctance, she pulled the device from her pocket. It was an older model, as basic and bare bones as they came. The kind of phone people used as burners.
Instead of giving it to him, however, she held on, thumbs poised. “Okay. Go ahead.”
He recited his digits while pulling out his own device. She tapped the screen accordingly, then began to put the phone away without saving him as a contact. He knew because he’d been watching her fingers.
She’d been humoring him. Probably to get away from him faster.
“Go ahead and call me. Just to make sure you got it right,” he said. “That way, I’ll have your number too.”
She looked directly into his eyes when she said very seriously, “I can’t imagine a situation where you’d need my help for anything.”
His mind flashed back to the day she’d brought those cookies over. He’d not only refused her offer to help, but also shut her down pretty thoroughly. No wonder she wasn’t buying his sudden let’s be friends campaign.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” he said, quieting his voice. “I shouldn’t have barked at you like I did.”
That gave her pause, and then she nodded. “It’s okay. I understand.”
He wondered if she did. He stuck out his hand. “Friends?”
More hesitation, but she eventually put her hand into his. It fit perfectly. What he wasn’t prepared for was the instant flow of heat, like warm honey through his veins, or the sense of peace, as if everything had been slightly off but was now perfectly aligned.
His eyes went to hers to see if she’d felt it, too, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was on her purse, where her other hand was digging for something.
She tugged to reclaim her hand. He gently tightened his grip in response. He wanted her to look at him.
When she did, those ebony eyes held none of the inner WTF he was experiencing.
He let go. Reluctantly.
It took him a moment to realize she’d extracted a twenty and dropped it on the table.
“Lunch is on me,” he said, shoving the twenty back at her.
She gave him a small smile. “Maybe next time.” Then, she grabbed her bag and made a beeline for the exit.
He watched her through the window, her stride purposeful, but not rushed. Stubborn, vexing female. But he was buoyed by the fact that she was open to a next time. Unless she’d only said what he wanted to hear so she could make her escape.
Goddammit.