The man ran a slow gaze over Burke, pausing at his shin. “Huh,” he grunted. “What happened to your leg there? You bleeding?”
“Just a little,” Burke said with a shrug. “Got hit with a car door.”
“Ouch,” Justine said, tipping her head to glance at the stain as well.
Burke would be lying if he said he didn’t like the concern he heard in her tone. Saw in the slight crease between her pretty eyes.
“You’ll have to change out of those before we go.”
“Wait,” the man said. “You’re not planning to stay at my Justine’s place while you’re here…”
“No, no” he assured. “Not at all. I’m renting a cabin up there off Wilshire. Mrs. Walsh’s place.” Burke nodded, feeling confident that at least that much was true.
At last Justine’s grandpa nodded as well. “Tomorrow then. And if you’re staying the rest of the week, I assume that means you’ll be at the Piney Falls autumn festival. Justine organized it, after all, and it’s about time she show up with a nice man on her arm.”
Burke nodded; it was easier than forcing his lips to agree.
Another moment passed as the old man scrutinized him and Justine in turn, a dissatisfied pinch in his brow. “You two find a cat or something?” He nodded to the fresh grave.
“Yes,” Justine said, wrapping her hands around Burke’s elbow. They felt nice there. Warm and comforting. Burke needed it in the moment of chaos. His heart still hadn’t calmed its rapid beat.
“She didn’t have a collar,” Justine continued. “I figure she’s from one of the farms beyond Twenty-Sixth Street. We found her up there.”
Wait, it wasn’t Justine’s cat?
The old man nodded as his expression softened. “I’m Wilfred, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Wilfred. Finally, I mean,” he added, clearing his throat. “Justine has told me a lot of great things about you.”
“I’ve heard about you, too,” he said. “Dinner, tomorrow. My place. Is six o’clock okay?”
Burke felt like a school kid on the porch with his date’s dad. “I wouldn’t miss it,” he assured.
“Good then. See you kids later.”
Tension drained from Burke’s body as Wilfred hobbled back toward the swinging gate. Questions were piling up in his mind.
Whose cat had they just buried? And did Justine really have some long-distance fiancé or had she just made him up?
Answers to those questions would only lead to more questions. Like, why would a woman like Justine invent a fake boyfriend? Or if he really did exist, why would she put up with some jerk who didn’t have time for her?
Justine must’ve been deep in thought as well. She too stayed quiet as they watched Wilfred shuffle further down the road. Slowly then, he pulled his eyes off the distant view and glanced down at the beauty by his side. She was looking at him, intently, as if she might discover the inner workings of his mind by observation alone.
“Why did you do that?” Her hands slipped from their place at his arm and flew up in question at either side.
She was angry? “Why did I do that? Why did you do that?”
Justine glanced over her shoulder before replying. “All I did is let him think his assumption about you was correct. I didn’t promise anything.”
Burke considered that. “Oh.”
“At least with my story—that you were only passing through town—you didn’t look like a liar.”
Burke could hardly believe his ears. “A liar by going along with it?”
“No, a liar for not showing up to all the stuff you said you’d come to.”
He shook his head, dumbfounded as he grasped for a response. “You act like we discussed this in advance or something. I was trying to help.”
Justine folded her arms across her chest and huffed out a sigh. “I know.” It was meant to sound understanding, he knew that much, but her tone said she was seriously ticked off.
“And I might not have looked like a liar by keeping quiet, but I would have definitely looked like a jerk by refusing to stick around for a few days.” Burke took a step back and sank one hand into his pocket. “You owe me the story behind this now.”
Her jaw stiffened. “I do not.”
“Yes, you do,” he argued, an astonished laugh sneaking up his throat. “You definitely owe me some details if you expect me to show up to dinner tomorrow night.”
Her chin dropped now too. She leveled a disbelieving look at him. “You would not actually show up to dinner for me.”
“I might,” Burke said, surprising himself as much as he was her. “If you agree to tell me how all this started.” He kept his eyes trained on her, enjoying the way those inner wheels turned.
She lifted a hand to her hip and narrowed her eyes. Spots of heat flickered low in his belly as he held her gaze in return.
Attraction. That’s what this was. There was something between them; he could feel it. It had been a long while since he’d felt this sort of attraction, and even longer since it hadn’t made him want to run.
“Promise?” she asked. “If I tell you…do you promise you’ll come tomorrow night?”
That look—so pleading. And those eyes…she could be asking him to jump off the Manhattan Bridge and his answer would still be the same. “Absolutely.”
“Why?” Her brow scrunched up. “You don’t have anything to gain.”
Burke’s heart skipped a beat or two in the moment of contemplation. Why was he agreeing to do it? “Well, I will be in town for a while, that’s the truth. And, um…I’ve got a couple of fishing poles at my place in hopes to catch a few trout. This way, I don’t have to do the dirty work. I never did like cutting through that scaly fish skin.” Which is why, the one time he did catch something on that Alaskan excursion, he’d paid someone to do that part for him.
A smile pulled at her lips. A broad and beautiful one. Forget the tiny
hint of a grin he’d earned before. This was magnificent. Full, natural lips framing a set of flawless teeth, and a dimple that had him wanting to brush the back of his hand over her rounded cheek.
Only trouble was, he wasn’t sure what he’d done to earn it. “What’s so funny?”
“You fish?”
On guided fishing excursions along the Pacific, yes, but she didn’t need to know that. “I have before. Twice.” He lifted a finger. “Three times, actually.”
“Well,” she said with the shake of her head. “Thank you, then. For agreeing to come tomorrow. As for the autumn festival, I’ll think of a reason you can’t be there. Maybe an emergency can come up or something.”
“Okay,” he said with a nod. But they still had a few things to work out. “We need to get you home, get your truck home, and, of course, you have to give me the full story on this fiancé of yours.”
He watched the contemplation in her hazel eyes as his pulse sped with anticipation. Say there isn’t really a fiancé, Justine, please.
But she only nodded instead. “Right.”
Dang.
“How about this,” he posed as an idea came to mind. “I take you to the steakhouse place you were talking about—that makes me a little less of a liar—and you tell me all about it there. My treat,” he added.