Chapter 7
Will: What are you up to today?
Tate: Taking your sister out on a hot date.
Will: No…
Tate: Or maybe I should say, taking your hot sister out on a date.
Will: WALKER
Tate: Just running errands.
Will: Stay alert. We haven’t seen anything yet.
Tate: Do you think he knows she’s gone?
Will: Too soon to tell.
I had imagined my day sitting in a tractor with Tate.
Now that I’d done it once and survived, my comfort zone had settled nicely there.
While it was still nerve-wrackingly secluded, the field was so large that if you were paying attention, you could see someone coming for miles, which I appreciated.
Running errands in town was something I hadn’t done in a long time.
Tate didn’t seem to have the same internal reservations I did.
He grabbed the list off the counter and motioned me toward his black truck, where he proceeded to open my door.
Since it was so high off the ground, he helped me inside.
His truck smelled like mint gum and hay—a surprisingly appealing combination.
I brought my notebook, determined to get some writing or, at the very least, some scene sketches in at some point in the day.
Tate glanced at the notebook in my lap as he pulled out of the driveway. “I’ll try to make this quick so you can have time to write later today.”
“Did Will bribe you to be nice so we wouldn’t fight so much?” I asked, a knowing look on my face.
“I’ve always been nice, Rawlins. You just refused to see it.”
He smiled smartly over at me.
“Where are we going first?” I asked Tate once we turned onto the main road. He glanced at the list in his hand.
“My dad needs a part at the Tractor Supply store in Shelburne.”
“Okay. Are we really practicing for our cover?” I asked.
“Based on past experience with you, we probably should,” he said, looking annoyingly attractive in a loose-fitting, short-sleeved shirt and his ever present baseball hat slung low across his forehead.
“Last time caught me by surprise. This time, it shouldn't be a problem.” My words sounded confident, but I was anything but sure of this plan.
I’d had boyfriends before, but this all felt…different. With a guy you like, you work up to things like touching and hand holding, and…kissing. It wasn’t usually dropped on a person like this. And especially not with him.
Instead of continuing toward the interstate, he pulled to a stop on Main Street in front of Keller’s Bakehouse. I looked over at him in surprise.
“What are we doing?”
“A trial run. And getting you coffee.”
“And a sticky bun?”
“Obviously.”
“So far, you get one point for being a good boyfriend.” I smiled as I said the words, hoping he wouldn’t notice my heart pounding in my throat.
“Are we keeping score?” he asked, the teasing gleam in his eyes making my stomach flip.
“Nope.” I lifted my chin. “Just me.”
“Alright, this is our practice run,” he said, turning off the ignition. “We are officially on stage. If, by some chance, Leroy finds out where you are, it might help if he sees you in a relationship. Maybe he’ll back off.”
He left it at that. Neither of us said what we were both thinking—that Leroy could potentially get more dangerous—and I was grateful it wasn’t spoken aloud.
I stared at the Keller’s sign above the shop. “So…how are we doing this then?”
He motioned toward the bakery, a weird calm confidence coming out of him. “We’ll go inside. We’ll hold hands, make out for a bit, and then pay for our stuff.”
“We will not be making out,” I said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, while he smiled. “Shouldn’t we have more of a game plan?” I asked, not stalling at all.
He eyed me. “We’re just holding hands and picking out cinnamon rolls, Rawlins. Anything else would look over the top and draw attention.”
“Are you sure? I thought we would only be dancing at Will’s wedding, but you threw in lots of over-the-top there.”
A smile crossed his face. “We had an audience, and I had a point to get across.” He leaned closer. “Besides, I think you kind of liked it.”
Before the flush on my cheeks could grow out of control, I motioned to the bakery. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Just act as natural as possible,” he said. “Don’t be memorable.”
“You just lost your point. That’s terrible boyfriend advice.”
He chuckled softly and climbed out of his truck. “I’ll grab your door.”
When he stepped out, he paused casually, looking in all directions before he sauntered toward my door and yanked it open. His side-profile jawline was firm, doing its thing as he scanned the streets and cars parked nearby.
When I hesitated to get out, he wiggled his fingers.
“Is this overkill?” I asked.
“What?”
“You opening my door? I can do it.”
His brows raised. “Not in my truck, Rawlins.”
He helped me down, keeping a firm grip on my hand as he maneuvered me out of the way to shut the door.
His fingers interlocked easily with mine like it was something we’d always done. It was just a strong, masculine hand holding mine somewhat possessively. Easy, simple, and nothing to get worked up about.
Tate would never let me live it down, if I did.
The smell of cinnamon and maple greeted us inside the bakeshop, making me instantly crave the fall weather.
We were a week or two shy of consistently cool mornings and crisp evenings.
But if there were anything to help get in the mood for the season, it would be a sticky bun from this bakery.
No matter that I’d just been stuffed full of Ann’s pumpkin bread, I’d make the room.
I held Tate’s hand as we perused the display case, proud of myself for the casual ease with which I accomplished this feat. He would have no cause to tease me after this. I was a natural.
A pretty redhead, with her hair pulled back and a faint streak of flour on her cheek, poked her head out from the back room.
“Hey, Sadie,” Tate said, smiling at her.
“What?! Hi!” Sadie exclaimed as she took both of us in. Sadie had been younger than me growing up, but I was surprised how nice it was to see a friendly face.
Tate released my hand just as she came out from behind the counter to give me a brief hug, smelling like yeast and maple. A very good combination.
“What are you guys doing in town?” she asked me.
I blinked, frozen.
Suddenly, I forgot everything.
I had envisioned the physical contact part of this moment. Holding Tate’s hand. Smiling at him on occasion. Looking like we belonged together.
I hadn’t envisioned the part where we had to deceive and lie to old friends.
“We’re here. Yeah,” I said, smiling and nodding like I’d just contributed something worthwhile to the conversation.
Her face furrowed slightly. Mine froze in horror. Shoot. What was our story again?
“I just…missed the Walkers and decided to come visit. For a while. With him. Tate,” I supplied, like it was my first day on earth.
I was gearing up to say more, no doubt to over-explain and make things much worse, when Tate slid an arm around my waist, pulling me into him.
“We’re here helping my parents with the hay and straw maze,” he supplied easily.
Oh.
Or we can keep things basic and easy and let people assume what they want. Like the surprise dip he gave me at Will’s wedding, I was impressed with how good Tate was at going undercover.
Thankfully, sweet Sadie didn't ask questions. Moving back around the counter, she made easy small talk. “Well, I’m glad you’re both here. There have been so many people moving back into town lately. What can I get you two?”
Tate released me to step up to the counter, ordering two cinnamon buns and some coffee to go, and left me standing there alone.
Was this a test? I could already hear him bragging about doing all the heavy lifting.
But after a rocky start, I was determined not to be terrible at this.
So, I sidled up next to Tate and pressed my arm against his while he chatted with Sadie about the weather.
He looked over at me, amusement lining his face, and I couldn’t figure out why. We grabbed our coffees, and Tate took my hand and the bag of goods Sadie offered. So smooth and without missing a beat.
Dang it. He was good.
“Thanks for coming in,” Sadie called out as we bypassed the open tables at the bakery and brought our bounty to Tate’s truck instead.
We sat in silence for about ten whole seconds.
“Okay,” Tate began. “I need you to be honest. Have you ever had a boyfriend before?”
Despite myself, I laughed, covering my face with my hands. “I wasn’t prepared to answer questions.”
“I was going to jump in earlier but just kept being rendered speechless.”
I swatted his shoulder. “I got better.”
“Your moves could use some work.”
“Well, I don’t make the moves. That’s your job.”
He pretended to be shocked. “You don’t make the moves? Then how do you explain you pressing into my arm like that?”
I gave him a look that he was still smiling about as he backed out of his parking spot and began driving toward the south end of town.
I closed my eyes and took a sip of my hot maple latte, pretending I was taking a walk in the beautiful woods by myself, wearing boots and a scarf, with the crisp leaves crunching beneath my feet.
When Tate opened the bag of goodies, I immediately reached for my sticky bun before sitting back in my seat, enjoying my fluffy piece of heaven with frosting on my fingers and a contented sigh coming from my lips.
“How often do you leave your apartment?”
I glanced over at him. “What?”
“When you’re back at home. How many times on average during the week do you go somewhere?”
“Why?”
“I’m just curious about something.”
I sat there, in a mild panic. The answer was easy. But to an outside person, it also made me sound crazy.
“Sometimes I have mandatory work meetings in Burlington or sometimes even Boston. So I leave then.”
He was waiting for me to say more. “But really, I work from home. And nowadays, you can get almost everything delivered, so…” I trailed off.
When he didn’t say anything, I added, “I like being home. I’m a classic homebody.”
He rubbed a hand across his chin. “You didn’t use to be like that.”
“A person can change from high school.”
“True,” he supplied, checking the rearview mirror, which prompted me to check my own side mirror. “I’m just wondering if something else happened to you with Leroy. How did you go from a big social life to never leaving your house? It can’t just be letters and voicemails.”
I had frosting on my hand waiting to be licked off, but I sat frozen. How did he ping on so many things? I immediately tried thinking of something I could say that would appease him while also brushing him off, before he pulled the cop card.
“This is police stuff I’m asking about. If there’s something I should know, you need to tell me.”
“You’re annoying,” I said.
He only smiled and waited.
I blew out a reluctant breath. “It happened slowly. I wasn’t always this much of a chicken.”
He said nothing as he maneuvered us onto the interstate, headed toward Shelburne.
“One day he ambushed me in a coffee shop, so I stopped going out for coffee. Then he started leaving presents on my car at work, so I got permission to work at home. And I was out at a restaurant with friends one night, and he left me a voicemail telling me how much he liked the dress I was wearing, so I stopped going out with friends.” I braved a glance at him, gauging his reaction.
His face showed nothing, but his hands were tightly gripping the wheel.
“And then, a while ago, I was going into the grocery store, and I looked up to see him walking toward me in the parking lot.” Out of the corner of my eye, Tate looked over at me, but I kept going.
“I got away. He wasn’t able to speak to me, but…
I started having everything delivered to my house after that. ”
The silence in the truck was weighted and heavy, and I distracted myself by watching the green and yellow trees pass by in a blur outside the window.
My stomach dipped and rolled with what I’d just revealed.
I hated who I’d become because of Leroy, so relaying all my worst vulnerabilities to Tate Walker only made it worse.
But he didn’t berate me. He didn’t tease me or make fun of the way I cowered from life. He didn’t do anything except stare stone-faced out the window, which was almost worse.
“Well, tell me all your advice. I know you’re probably itching to do it,” I said, needing it to be over.
He rubbed his hand over his mouth.
“He’d better pray that Will and I don’t find him. For his own sake.” He looked over at me, sympathy in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
The kindness and sympathy from this grown-up version of the bossy guy I’d always known was disconcerting. Instead of letting myself get distracted by the warm glow growing inside at his words, I pushed for an air of nonchalance.
“Well, hopefully Will does find him this week, and it will all be over.” I looked at him. “Just a few more days and I’ll be out of your hair.”
It could have been my imagination, but he didn’t seem as relieved as I assumed he would be.