“She said he went back to San Diego.”
I pull out my phone and look up Ben Toole in PeopleFinder. His name pops up along with his city, but all the other information about him has been redacted. I wonder if he and Luca are in on this together.
“No address or phone number,” I say. “He must have had it removed.”
Anne leans over my shoulder to look. “I guess we have to go back to San Diego next weekend.”
I don’t know where we would even start with such minimal information about Ben Toole. I know less about him than I do about Luca, and San Diego was already a dead-end once. There has to be a better way to find someone.
I look at the clock on the dashboard. It’s getting late. As much as I want to find Luca, this day has been exhausting, and I just want to go home. If we want to make it back to Miami by the morning, we need to get to the airport now.
“Yeah. Next weekend,” I say with a sigh.
ChapterEighteen
THE FIRST DATE RULE
It’s midafternoon on Sunday when Jake knocks at my door. I’m not expecting him until later, but here he is, leaning against my door frame.
“You’re early,” I tell him.
“Am I?” He checks his wrist even though he’s not wearing a watch. He frowns, making a show of pretending to be surprised by the time. “I wanted to catch you before you ate dinner in case you forgot that you’re going out with me. Did I make it in time?”
“It’s only three. I haven’t eaten yet.”
“I thought we could go in an hour.”
“Isn’t four a little early for dinner?”
“You said that you’re in bed by the time most people are eating dinner, so I figured that means you eat earlier than everyone else.”
I feel a smile creeping across my lips. Who knew this guy was so thoughtful? I haven’t been on many dates since starting my early morning hours at the news station, but the few guys that I have gone out with didn’t seem to think there was anything wrong with taking me out at eight o’clock at night.
“Where are we eating?” I ask.
“I made reservations at that Japanese place down by the beach.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Really? I’ve never been there. I’ve heard it’s really nice.” And expensive.
“I hope so. I want our first date to be special.”
“First date?” I snort. “More like third. Or even fourth.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up. “We haven’t been on a date yet.”
I frown, fighting a smile. “What was last Sunday then?”
“That was just breakfast. It wasn’t a date.”
“It was a breakfast date.”
“It was breakfast.”
“It would have just been breakfast if you hadn’t insisted on paying for me.”
“Don’t tell me you thought the hallway was a date, too. Wait, if that’s the second date, then when was our third?” It’s clear that he’s amused by this.
“It was a picnic date.” I poke him in the chest. “And it was our third. The second was the aquarium.”
