Chapter 3 #2
While she was cooking, she thought about Joe. Why had he been the one to have woken something in her that she thought was long dead?
Sure, he was attractive with his sandy brown hair, the same scruffy beard that all men were wearing nowadays, and his kind blue eyes that searched everywhere.
All of that should have scared her, but somehow…
didn’t. He was almost the complete opposite of Ted, who had thinning dark hair and muddy brown eyes that judged everything.
Ted had always been on the skinny side. The last time she’d seen him, he was easily ten pounds underweight for his six-one frame.
She couldn’t really tell how tall Joe was, but figured it was roughly about that. Only his frame was on the thinner side. She couldn’t tell, but she imagined he was packed with toned, lean muscles. He walked like he was strong. She doubted there was an ounce of flab on the man.
He walked like a cop, which is why she’d pegged him as one at first. Seeing him up close, she realized it was true, as was her belief that he was ex-military as well. He fit the mold.
She stopped herself from daydreaming about a stranger who had been hired to stalk her and her daughter and tried to focus on finishing dinner.
Once the rolls were in the oven and everything else was prepped and ready to slide into the oven, she set the table with the good china that she’d found in the hutch in the dining room and made a pitcher of lemonade.
With the faint smell of the seasoning that she’d prepared for the salmon drifting through the house, she went into the living room and turned off the television.
“It smells good, Mama,” Charlotte said as she lifted her in her arms. Her daughter loved fresh rolls and often asked for them for each meal.
Ally smiled, brushing a kiss against her forehead. “Thanks, sweetie. We’d better head up and change if we’re going to be good hosts.”
“What’s a host?”
“People who have other people come to their house for dinner.”
Upstairs, while her daughter put on her blue dress with flowers, she pulled her hair into a soft twist and changed into a pale green blouse and dark jeans. She figured it was something casual and not sexual in any way. This was not a date.
When she caught her reflection in the mirror, she barely recognized the woman looking back. She looked steady, composed, with a spark of defiance in her eyes.
Maybe that was good. Maybe it was exactly what Ted needed to see through his hired gun.
At five o’clock sharp, the doorbell rang.
Charlotte was already racing down the hallway, her freshly braided hair swaying behind her. “Mama! He’s here!” she shouted. No doubt he could hear her outside.
She walked over to the door, drew one last breath, smoothed her hands over her shirt, and opened it.
Joe stood there, looking caught between wary and curious as he held a white box from the bakery.
He cleared his throat. “I, uh, brought blueberry tarts. They didn’t have nuts in them.”
Ally stepped aside, letting him in. “Good choice,” she said evenly. “Come on in.”
As the door clicked shut behind him, she told herself she wasn’t inviting the wolf inside. She was simply showing him the truth. She hoped it was true.
“Is your name really Joe?” she asked quickly.
His eyebrows shot up and then he nodded. “Joe Dalton.” He pulled a card from his back pocket and handed it to her.
He was wearing a button-up shirt and nicer jeans than he’d been in earlier that morning. Obviously, he wanted to appear professional.
She took the card, which confirmed his name and the agency he worked for, Dalton Investigations. She tucked it in her back pocket.
“For now”—she lowered her voice so that Charlotte wouldn’t hear—“you are just a friend here to help us. I don’t want my daughter knowing her father hired you to find dirt on me so he can…” She shook her head. “So he can do whatever he plans on doing.”
He nodded as Charlotte came bouncing back into the room with a few of the images from that morning that they had printed out on Max’s color printer.
“Look, Joe. I got this one of a seagull.” She held up the image.
The man knelt down to look, a genuine smile on his face as he patiently looked at each image.
“I think that’s enough for now. Why don’t we invite Joe further in.
I bet he wants to see the house.” She glanced at Joe, who looked around cautiously.
“This place belongs to my brother, Max,” she said, knowing that he probably already knew that.
“He and his wife, Juliette, are in South America on set. My brother is—”
“Max Wilson, I’ve heard of him.” Joe nodded. “I’d love to see the place, if you want to show me around. I’ve always loved old places, and it’s a lighthouse too.”
She wondered if anything he said was true. Still, as they took him room by room, he really did appear interested. He even asked a few questions about the history of the house and the lighthouse.
The house had four bedrooms, two downstairs, two up. Max’s office was downstairs on the main level. There was another similar room that Juliette used for now, only it didn’t have built-in bookcases. Yet.
Once they finished the tour, she slid the salmon and asparagus into the oven and watched over it while they quickly baked.
All the while, her daughter and Joe were huddled over the photos that Charlotte had taken of the beach and small things she’d seen since getting the camera from Max.
When she pulled the salmon from the oven, the scent of lemon and butter filled the cozy kitchen. Charlotte had already climbed into her chair at the table, chattering happily with Joe, who poured everyone a glass of lemonade without being asked to.
He moved easily, like someone who’d sat at a table with an almost six-year-old a hundred times before. He was comfortable but not intrusive.
As they started eating, the only sounds were the clinking of forks and Charlotte’s occasional giggles as she told Joe about the seashell collection that she was starting and the sandcastle they’d built the day before.
“You like kids,” Ally said softly, watching him as he helped Charlotte cut her asparagus.
Joe looked up, smiling faintly. “I do. My sister has four of her own, so I’ve had plenty of practice.”
“No wife or kids of your own back home?” she asked, trying to keep her tone casual.
He shook his head as a sad look crossed his eyes. “No. I never married. I guess I’ve been married to the job too long.” He gave a small shrug, then nodded toward Charlotte. “She’s got your eyes.”
That caught her off guard. She forced a small smile, unsure what to say. Compliments had always come with strings attached in her old life.
“Thank you,” she said finally, her voice quiet.
Charlotte perked up. “Can Joe come with us to the beach tomorrow?”
Ally met his gaze as her chest tightened. “We’ll see,” she said, giving him a look that made her meaning clear. This was a one-time deal. Get what you need on us, and then I never want to see you again.
Joe only smiled, as if he understood. “I wish I could,” he said lightly, “but I have work.”
Charlotte groaned and pouted for a moment.
After they finished dinner, Ally cleared the plates, her thoughts a storm behind her calm expression. He was too at ease. Too good with her daughter. And that, somehow, scared her most of all.