“Bein' surprised isn’tsomethin' Ihandle well,” he muttered, glowering for a moment, before turning his attentionback on his work. Then, without looking at me, he said, “If ye’re hungry, helpyerself.”
Atthe mention of food, my stomach growled angrily, reminding me that I hadn’t eatenall day. So, I turned to the fridge and opened it, surveying its contents, andeventually landing on a container of what looked like pasta. But on my way tothe microwave, Brodie looked up and abruptly jumped to his feet.
“No,no,dinnaeeat that,” he exclaimed, taking thecontainer from my hands, and throwing it into the trash like he was scoring atouchdown. Then, seeing the startled expression on my face, he said, “We reallyneed to clean around here. That’s been in there for weeks.”
Unableto contain my laugh, I said, “I guess I shouldn’t expect more from a bachelorpad.”
Brodielaughed then, too. A genuine, grinning laugh, one that had me giggling rightalong with him, and I scolded myself for finding his smile so appealing.
“Aye,”he finally agreed, nodding.
“So,”I said, heading back to the fridge, “can Ireallyhelp myself, or shouldI be afraid of everything in here?”
“BetterI take a look first,” he muttered with a hearty chuckle and peered inside. “Doye like Chinese food?”
“Likeit? Try love it.”
Hepulled out a container and handed it to me. “This was my supper last night. Yecan have—”
“Didyou want it? I don’t want to—”
“Rosie,Iwouldnaeoffer if Ididnaewant ye to have it.”
Hehad this way of saying things that said, without a doubt, that it was the finalword and there was nothing left to be said. So, when he turned away to slumpback down with his work, sighing and thrusting both hands into his hair, Iheated the food in silence. Then, I took a seat at the other end of thecounter, assuming he’d want his space and wouldn’t want to feel obligated toentertain me. But just as I pulled my phone from my pocket, he lifted his headand looked directly at me.
“Yersister didn’t happen to know anyone here, did she?”
Loweringmy phone, I shook my head. “No. She was completely alone.”
Hummingwith contemplation, he rubbed at his scruffy chin. “And ye said she had metsomeone at a pub?”
“Yeah,”I said, poking my fork around the container as I nodded. “There was a guy at apub. She met him on what was supposed to be her last night here. She—”
“Whatpub?” he asked, and I shrugged, my shoulders sagging immediately with defeat.“Well, do ye remember where it was?”
Ihad to think about it for a moment, as I turned my gaze on the container oflukewarm Chinese leftovers and tried to remember exactly what Gracie had saidduring our last phone conversation. Immediately, I felt frustrated by howquickly I was forgetting those final moments, and I groaned loudly, squeezingmy eyes shut and shaking my head.
“Idon’t know,” I admitted with an agitated huff. “I wish I could remember, but—”
“Try,”Brodie urged, moving swiftly from his stool to the one beside me. “Think,Rosie. Putyerselfback there. What was shesayin’ to ye? What was shedoin’?Where was sheheadin’ to?”
Closingmy eyes again, I forced myself back into that moment, when I was curled up onmy couch and watching some stupid home improvement show on TV. Gracie hadcalled me after another disappointing tour, unhappy that she had spent theentire trip alone. She was walking along a cobblestone street and complainingabout her shoes, she was going … going … God, where the hell had she beengoing?
“Bed!”I exclaimed out loud, opening my eyes to face him. “She was down the streetfrom the inn, and she was going to bed. But then, she saw this guy in a pubwindow. She … she mentioned his eyes! He had green eyes, she said, and that helooked good but could only see the upper half of his body. So, so, so …” Ichanted as the wheels of my brain turned with the movement of my hand. “So, itmust’ve been apretty bigwindow, right? We have tolook for a pub with a big, clear window.”
Brodie’slips curled into a victorious smile as he leaned back on the stool, plantinghis hands against his hips. “Ye’regonnamake anexcellent partner,” he complimented, nodding approvingly.
“Maybe,but I probably shouldn’t quit my day job,” I muttered, grabbing myforkand stabbing a piece of chicken.
“Whatdo ye do?”
Iglanced at him as I chewed and said, “I’m an aide for my town’s mayor.”
“Ye’rein politics?”
Isighed and shrugged, before digging into the rice. “Yes and no. I’m more behindthe scenes, really. I take phone calls, manage her schedule, and sometimes, Iattend events in her place, but I’m not a politician. I just work for someonewho is.”
Brodiechuckled. “That sounds like ye work in politics to me.”
