Chapter 17 #2
My truck has electric in the back so I plug in Christmas lights and string them along the back. I know Mae can see me doing all of this, but I still hope she likes it when she gets out.
I hop down and look at my handiwork. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.
Opening the passenger door, I hold out my hand. “Ready?” I ask her.
She nods and takes it.
Keeping her hand in mine, I bring her around to the truck bed.
She gasps and looks at me. “This is so cute.”
“I’m glad you like it. You can step up right there, I’ll help you,” I tell her, pointing to the step-up bumper. My truck sits up higher, so it’s a little harder. I hold her hand as she grabs the side of the bed to get up on the gate. Once she’s up, I jump in behind her.
“So I got us dinner from Bradford Diner, and I brought beer, wine, and water, since I didn’t know what you liked.”
Mae sits down and leans against one of the large pillows I took from my bed.
She’s silent, and I worry maybe this wasn’t the right move. Maybe I should have stuck to dinner and dancing at Perry’s.
“If you don’t like it, we can go somewhere else,” I suggest. I have time. I know Naomi is having fun with June and Gracie.
“No, no, it’s wonderful. I … I don’t think anyone has ever gone to this much trouble for a date before,” she says, her voice quiet.
I sit down next to her, leaving a respectful, but not too respectful, space between us. “I’m glad I could be the first.”
She looks around, and I give her a minute by unloading the cooler.
“I don’t know if you’ve been to the diner yet, but they have great food. I got us the fried chicken because it’s amazing, and the burger. Options are good.”
Mae smiles. “Honestly, I’d go for both.”
“I like that,” I tell her. The soft glow of the setting sun and Christmas lights makes her look almost ethereal, like one of Naomi’s princesses. Her long, curly black hair is begging for me to wrap one of the corkscrews around my finger, but I keep my hands to myself.
Grabbing the tray, I set it to the side of us and put the containers on it, handing her silverware and a napkin. “Would you like wine, beer, or water?”
“I’d love some wine,” she says.
I grab a plastic cup and pour some in it, handing it to her while I grab a beer for myself.
Popping the top off the stubby, I hold it up. “To our first date.”
Mae clips her cup against my beer bottle. “Cheers,” she says, and takes a long sip.
“So, you said you’re a forensic accountant. I know what accounting is, but not the forensic part.”
Mae chews and takes a sip of her wine. “So I do both normal accounting and forensic. My firm handles a lot of large corporations and businesses, so the forensic part means I investigate and dig. I look for things like fraud or strange discrepancies.”
“So if someone was laundering money for the mob?” I ask her.
She laughs and nods. “Yes, exactly like that. I haven’t been on a case with the mob, but my firm has. You’d be amazed how easy it is to wash money through a laundromat.”
I chuckle. “Sounds like easy money.”
“Not if you’re caught,” she volleys back.
I chuckle. “So, tell me about your weirdest case.”
Mae tilts her head, thinking as she takes another bite of fried chicken. Then her eyes light up and she wipes her hands.
“Okay, this one is crazy, at least I thought it was. So I was going over the books for a trading firm. As I’m sure you can understand, it’s messy. There’s a lot of money going in and out, and it all has to be accounted for, all the way down to the paper towels they bought for the bathroom.
“Anyway, I was doing what I normally do and looked through the small things first. People think no one would look at basic things, like the amount of money spent on copy paper or maybe the bill they pay for the internet. I found hundreds of thousands of dollars for copy paper. I thought it seemed like a lot, but maybe they have a ton of employees who like working with paper. Well, low and behold, the firm makes a point to be nearly paperless. So, from there I kept digging, and found out the CEO was essentially stealing money from the company and using it to pay for his not one, but three mistresses, and their apartments, cars, and clothes. The list goes on forever. I’ve seen stuff for mistresses, but not three of them. ”
“I don’t know how a man can handle more than one woman to begin with,” I mutter and take a swig of my beer to wash down my burger.
“I don’t think he was with them all at the same time. I think he either couldn’t break up with one to move on to the next, or they were holding the fact he was cheating on his wife and stealing money from the company over his head,” she says.
“Sounds like he got what was coming to him,” I say.
She grimaces. “He got twenty years in prison because he stole so much. He has to pay it all back, and his wife divorced him and took everything else he had, which wasn’t much as far as I’m aware.”
“Whoa.”
“It’s sad to see what people do for money,” she says.
I hum and take another bite.
“So, what do you do? Other than being a cowboy and a father,” Mae asks me.
I smile. “My first job is definitely dad. It’s my favorite one. But yes, I’m a ranch hand for my family.”
“But what does that mean?” Mae asks.
I chuckle and lean against the side of the truck. “I literally wrangle and move cattle. Do you really want to talk about this?” I ask her. I love what I do, but it’s also not that interesting.
“Is it like Yellowstone?” she asks.
I laugh and shake my head. “Yes and no, but not all the other stuff, just the cattle.”
She smiles, taking another sip of wine. “June was over the other day and we were going to watch something and she told me if I picked Yellowstone she’d leave.”
I chuckle. “June bug can’t stand that show.”
“I have a feeling a lot of actual cowboys don’t like it,” she says.
“That’s if we’ve watched it. I’m usually watching Tarzan or Ratatouille, or it’s watching me.”
She smiles softly. “What’s it like being a dad?”
“Hold on now, you asked me something. I get to ask you something else,” I say.
Mae purses her lips. “Fine.”
“You’re a clever one. How is the shop doing?” I ask her.
Her expression closes up, and she looks away. “We don’t have to talk about it. What’s life like where you’re from?” I ask her.
She nibbles on her lower lip and picks at her chicken. “It’s good, not like it is here. I’m from Denver, so basically the city and suburbs.”
I nod. “So you’re not used to living out here in no man’s land.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not, but I like it. I can breathe out here.”
“Small towns are good for that, but then there’s not many people and those people know everything about you.”
She smiles. “Yeah, like June.”
I snort and take another bite. “Yes, like June. She’s nosey, but she means well.”
Mae smiles. “I put that together.”
“More wine?” I ask her.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” she asks with a smile on her face.
I chuckle and pour more into her cup. “Nope, but I’ve got you if you do.”
“Man, I should thank your mother,” she says.
“Uh, why?” I ask her.
“You’re actually a gentleman,” she says as if I’m an exotic animal.
“What else should I be?” I ask her.
She shakes her head and looks out as the sun says goodnight. “It’s scenic out here.”
“I hoped you’d like it. When it’s really dark, the stars are amazing.”
When we’re done, I gather all of our dinner stuff before pulling out the chocolate cake.
“For dessert I got the famous Mrs. B’s chocolate cake, and then a piece of apple pie. But I have to tell you, people fight over this cake. Mrs. B makes one a day, and when it’s gone, it’s gone.”
Mae grins and looks between them. “You really went all out tonight, didn’t you?”
“Good food is always a good idea,” I tell her.
She looks between the options and sticks her fork into the apple pie. Surprising me, I figured all women like chocolate cake. June and Gracie nearly punched each other in the face fighting for the last piece.
Mae slips her fork past her lips and sighs. “Wow, that’s good.”
“Apple pie is my favorite,” I tell her.
“Oh shoot, I’m sorry, I’ll eat the cake,” she says and reaches for it.
I grab her wrist, stopping the fork. “No, no, take the pie. Watching you eat it is better than the pie itself.”
She gives me a look and rolls her eyes before taking another bite, and I spot the blush blooming across her cheeks.
“At least have a little. We can share it.”
“Deal,” I say and grab a bite before holding it to her lips.
Mae rolls her eyes again. “Seriously?”
“You didn’t say I had to eat it,” I tell her.
“Well, the sharing implies eating,” she grumbles.
“I’d rather feed it to you.”
Our eyes lock together in a no-win fight. I won’t give in, and her stubborn attitude tells me she won’t either.
She keeps her mouth shut, but her gaze remains on mine.
“Who’s going to break first?” I ask her.
Her brow tips up at the challenge. She lifts her cup of wine to her lips and takes a sip.
“How about a compromise? We split both.”
“Deal,” I rasp.
She takes her fork and gets a bite of cake, holding it to my lips. But before I take the cake off the tines, I grab her wrist, pulling her forward, and she catches herself on my thighs.
Our mouths meet, and the fork clatters with the cake onto the little tray.
I move my hand to the back of her neck, sliding it up into that beautiful curly hair, and she sighs into the kiss.
I nip her lower lip gently before pulling back because I could toss this tray and keep this going.
But I knew it was taking a risk simply kissing her.
Mae sits back with glazed eyes and rosy cheeks. “Oh, shit,” she says under her breath.
I force myself to stay calm and collected, but inside I’m running around like a horse with the zoomies.
“You okay?” I ask her.
She nods and presses her fingers to her lips. “You caught me by surprise.”
Crap.
“I’m sorry, I should have asked.”
Mae shakes her head and takes a long drag of her wine. “No, no, it’s okay. It was … good.”
“That didn’t sound too confident,” I mumble.