CHAPTER ELEVEN LYLA
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LYLA
“You’re taking the day off?” Crystal’s eyebrows shot up, practically skimming her hairline. “Again?”
“Um, I don’t have to.” I wanted to blow off work today but wouldn’t if it made her uncomfortable. “I can stay.”
“No!” She shook her head and waved her arms in the air. “I was just surprised. Go.”
“Are you sur—”
“See ya.”
A smidge of guilt prickled, but I shoved the feeling away as I took one last glance around the kitchen. I’d been here baking since four this morning. The display case and walk-in were both stocked. Most of the prep work was done and every dish and coffee cup was clean.
For the second day in a row, I was leaving Eden Coffee in Crystal’s hands. If today was anything like yesterday, I had nothing to worry about.
When I’d come in this morning, the shop had been spotless and the kitchen gleaming beneath the bright florescent lights.
Crystal had reorganized the shelves beside the dishwasher, swapping the bowls and plates, moving the latter down.
We used the plates twice as often as the bowls and now they were easier to grab.
It was a little change, one I hadn’t even thought to make myself. Now it was glaringly obvious that we should have done it ages ago. What else was I missing because I’d refused to step away?
“Thank you,” I told Crystal, making a mental note to give her a raise.
“Of course.” She smiled, her lime-green lips splitting wide.
She’d be fine on her own today, but maybe it was time I hired another barista. Someone to help her out if I was gone. A part-time employee to work weekends or days like this, when I had somewhere else I wanted to be.
Vance and I were going to the mountains today, on the hike I hadn’t gone on yesterday. I’d left him in my bed earlier, his hair tousled and wild as he’d hugged a white pillow. Before I’d slipped out of the bedroom, he’d woken just enough to ask if I wanted to go along on his search.
After his confession about Cormac last night, saying yes had been easy.
But first, I’d needed to ensure Crystal was happy to take charge. More than happy, judging by the smile on her face.
“The cutest brunette ever came in yesterday,” she said. “We flirted a little bit. I’m really hoping she comes back today.”
“Ooh.” I laughed. “I hope she comes back too.”
It wouldn’t be the first time she’d dated a man or a woman she’d met at the shop.
Crystal was as sweet as the apple turnovers I’d just pulled from the oven, and part of why I’d hired her was because she was so friendly and open.
But she had a tendency to gossip with customers, so I always made sure that if there was something private to discuss, I did it where she couldn’t eavesdrop.
“What are you going to do today?” she asked as I pulled on my coat.
“Clean my house,” I lied. I adored Crystal, but my tryst with Vance would be all over Quincy if I let it slip. “Maybe go out to the ranch. We’ll see.”
“Well, don’t worry about the shop.”
“I won’t.” I actually believed that too. What was the worst that could happen? The building burning down? Once upon a time, that would have been the end of my world. Now . . . I’d be sad. But I’d pick myself back up.
Just like I had weeks ago along the riverbank.
“I’m glad you’re taking a day for yourself,” Crystal said.
“Me too.” With a quick wave, I left her to finish opening the shop, ducked out the back door to the alley and drove home.
Vance’s truck was in the driveway but parked closer to the garage door than it had been when I’d left this morning. I eased into the garage and went inside.
In the kitchen, he was dressed in yesterday’s clothes—a pair of thick, canvas Carhartt pants, a long-sleeved gray thermal and his usual soft flannel coat. The beanie I’d become accustomed to pulling off his hair was fixed in place.
He was scrolling through his phone as he sipped coffee from a paper cup covered in a black lid. Those weren’t the to-go cups from the hotel, but the gas station.
That coffee tasted like tar.
“We don’t drink that burnt sludge in this house,” I said.
Vance glanced up, those gray-blue eyes dancing as he tucked his phone away and set the cup aside. “You left me no choice but to get this from the gas station. You weren’t open when I drove to town.”
“I would have brought you coffee.” I closed the distance between us, rising up on my toes, but I couldn’t quite reach his lips, so I tugged on his collar, pulling him closer to kiss the corner of his mouth.
He bent over me, folding around me, and tucked his hands in the back pockets of my jeans, giving my ass a playful squeeze. “Get ready.”
I trailed my lips to the underside of his jaw. “Are we in a hurry?”
He kneaded my curves, but before I could reach for the button on his jeans, he had his hands on my shoulders, spinning me around. With a quick swat on the butt, he sent me toward my room.
“Prude,” I muttered.
His deep chuckle followed me down the hall as I hurried to change clothes.
The bed was made, the white quilt smooth. Like the exterior of the house, most of the rooms were painted white or cream. I liked bright and open spaces with wooden accents and different textures to add warmth.
The plethora of pillows were neatly arranged against my beige tufted headboard. He’d even done the karate chop, creasing them at the top. No man in my life knew about the karate chop.
Had Vance’s ex taught him to make the bed like that?
Jealousy swirled, but I shoved it away, ducking into my walk-in closet to pull on a sweater and warmer socks.
Vance wasn’t mine. I had no claim on his heart or body. While he was here, this was just sex. Incredible, addictive sex. And every night we’d shared a bed, either his or mine, I’d slept without a nightmare.
That had to be enough. Sex and sleep.
And today, searching for Cormac.
So I finished getting dressed and collected the same coat, hat and gloves I’d planned to wear yesterday. Then with a water bottle tucked in the crook of my arm, I followed Vance outside and climbed into his silver Dodge truck.
The drive toward the mountains was quiet, oddly reminiscent of the drive we’d taken together two weeks ago toward the river. Had it really only been two weeks? There were moments when it felt like I’d known him for years.
In reality, we were just strangers. Lovers, for a time. Would he go back to his ex after he left Montana? That jealousy surged again, harder to shrug off this time.
When was he leaving? After he found Cormac?
What if we found him today? His face flashed in my mind, causing my insides to twist. How was it that I hadn’t thought of this yet? Today wasn’t some leisurely hike in the mountains with Vance. We were after a killer.
Vance stretched across the cab and put his hand on my thigh. “Lyla.”
“Yeah?”
His thumb stroked my kneecap.
My knees were bouncing. I hadn’t even noticed.
“I’m okay.”
“You can do this.” He’d said the same thing weeks ago.
“I can do this.”
Vance kept his hand on my knee, a firm yet soft grip, until he needed both hands to turn into the gravel lot where we’d be leaving his truck.
The moment I stepped outside and breathed in the cool, mountain air, a bit of my nerves eased. These were my mountains. This was my home. Cormac Gallagher didn’t get to steal that from me.
Vance stowed my water bottle in his pack, strapping it to both shoulders, then, without a word, started for the trail.
I fell in step behind him as we traversed the path for about a mile.
“Have you been here before?” Vance’s question startled me, and I nearly tripped over a rock.
We’d been walking so quietly, I’d assumed it was because he wanted to keep some level of stealth. But he spoke in his normal voice, his boot stepping on a branch that snapped under his weight.
“Yes,” I whispered. “But not in ages.”
He glanced back. “Cormac isn’t anywhere around here.”
“How do you know?” The trees bordering the path were thick. Some had to be over a hundred years old, their trunks wide enough to hide a man.
“He won’t come near an established trail.”
“Oh.” My forehead furrowed. “Then why are we searching on a trail?”
Vance stopped, shifting to slide one strap of his pack off a shoulder. He unzipped the largest pocket, pulling out a map. With practiced ease, he unfolded and refolded it to show me a section. Part of it was marked out with a series of red, parallel lines.
“This is where we parked.” He pointed to the map, his finger trailing along the paper as he spoke. “This is the trailhead. Yesterday, I hiked around this area.”
The area shaded with the red lines.
“Today, we’ll hike through here.” Vance drew an imaginary circle on the map, directly above where he’d been yesterday. “Quickest way there is the trailhead. Once we make it up another mile, we’ll veer off the path.”
“Ah, okay.” It was impressive that he was so comfortable in the wilderness. And attractive. He was a rugged, mountain-man fantasy come to life. “So once we get off the trail, what are we looking for?”
Vance shrugged, returning the map to his pack. “Anything.”
With it secure, he kept walking, his strides easy, probably so I could keep up. No way he’d searched all of the area he had yesterday at this slow of a pace.
“I’m looking for what doesn’t belong,” he said.
“Like a footprint?” I turned, inspecting the path behind us. In some of the soft spots, the indent from his boot had imprinted the earth. “It’s muddy. That’s probably a good thing, right?”
“Good and bad,” he said. “A footprint would at least be a sign someone was in the area. Maybe from Cormac. Maybe not. Chances are, I’d be chasing someone else. Cormac would stick to the heavily forested areas, where the needles offer good cushion and camouflage on the ground.”
“Interesting.” I’d spent most of my youth exploring the ranch. Hiking as a teen. Horseback riding with my parents and siblings. Not once had I thought about the traces I’d left behind. Or how to mask them.