“Yeah, scrambled eggs injected with a slice of fuckin’ heaven,” Dad replied.
I went back to serving up frittata and decided to change the subject.
“Dad, can you go by my place after the frittata and pick up my yoga mat?” I asked, still serving and handing Mom a plate which she moved to set in front of Dad.
“Sure thing, darlin’, after my mornin’ constitutional.”
I handed Mom her plate, grabbed my coffee and turned to Dad.
“After frittata, your constitutional, you goin’ over to my pick it up and coming back, me doing yoga and then getting a shower, I’ll be late to open.”
“Don’t miss my constitutional, February,” Dad said and this was true.
“You can have it when you get back,” I told him and this was true too though I doubted he’d go for it as nothing messed with his morning schedule. Not even a daughter who seriously needed the relaxation of yoga.
“Feb –”
“I’ll get it,” Colt said and my eyes went to him, most of his frittata was gone, he had a forkful arrested halfway to his mouth and was looking at Dad. “There may be crime scene tape on the door and it’s best I go in for it.”
I forgot about that.
“Don’t you have work?” I asked.
“Won’t take fifteen minutes,” Colt answered. “I’ll get it, bring it back and then get to work.”
I couldn’t argue with that and didn’t want to. It was nice of him and I was beginning to like the nice things he did for me. I’d been taking care of myself for awhile, keeping myself to myself, I hadn’t had that in a long time.
“Thanks,” I said quietly and looked away.
“Jesus, darlin’, you outdone yourself with this one,” Dad proclaimed, mouth full.
“It’s scrambled eggs, Dad.”
“It’s fuckin’ beautiful, Feb.”
“Whatever,” I whispered, feeling embarrassed. This was, of course, the effect I was going for, for whatever reason, but getting it made me uncomfortable.
“Why aren’t you havin’ any?” Colt asked and my eyes went to him and then skittered over his shoulder.
“I don’t eat before yoga,” I informed him.
“Missin’ out, baby,” he said softly and my eyes skittered right back and I felt a warm heaviness hit me in three different places in my torso and I wondered if my camisole was holding up or if everyone could see my nipples had gotten hard.
They ate in silence and then Colt moved to take his plate to the sink. He turned, reaching around me to grab a slice of toast off the stack. He was behind me and I felt his hand hit the small of my back.
“Walk me to the door, Feb,” he said in my ear.
I followed him to the dining table where he stopped, the toast in his teeth, to shrug on his holster and blazer then I followed him to the door.
He took a bite of the toast and as he chewed his other hand came to the top of my neck, under my jaw, his thumb jutting out to press under my chin and lift my face.
“Great mornin’, baby,” he whispered and that heady heaviness in my breasts and between my legs got headier. “Which means me askin’ this is gonna suck.”
“Oh shit,” I said.
“Sully says Nowakowski wants you to make another list. The fifteen years you been away.”
I pulled in breath through my nostrils then I let it go and nodded which wasn’t easy with his thumb at my chin.
“They’ll need to know where to find ‘em so if you know, even last known whereabouts, you add that to the list.”
I nodded again.
He took in a breath before he said, “It’ll help them to know what they did. They might be able to lock down a victimology, try to guess who’s next. You’ll need to record that too and try and be thorough.”
I didn’t like doing this at all, but the last part I really didn’t like.
“Give yourself some time, do it after yoga,” Colt said. “You finish, you call me. Have someone walk it down to the Station when you get into the bar.”
I nodded again.
His face changed, I couldn’t put my finger on how but, I swear to God, it seemed like he looked like he was proud of me.
“I’ll call you when I get a reservation, tell you the time,” he said.
I nodded yet again.
“‘Tween then and now, honey, I suspect lots of shit is gonna go through your brain.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“Colt –”
He cut me off. “Ignore it.”
I closed my eyes and opened them again when his lips touched mine.
He lifted his head an inch away and stated quietly, “This is good.”
He wasn’t wrong about that either.
“Promise me, whatever marches through that head of yours, you stick with me. Tonight we’ll talk it out.”
“Colt –”
“Don’t say my name, give me your promise.”
I sucked in breath and when I let it out, I whispered, “I promise.”
His thumb left my chin to trail along my cheek.
Then he said, “I’ll be back soon as I can with your mat.”
“Thanks.”
“Later, baby.”
“Later.”
Then he let me go, unlocked the door and disappeared.
I turned to my parents and they were both openly watching me and more than likely had been openly watching Colt and me.
“Don’t start,” I warned.
“Got nothin’ to say,” Dad replied, “you know how we feel.”
I did and that didn’t help that feeling of fear that kept gnawing at my belly. Though it did make that feeling of happiness that was coating the region of my chest intensify more than a little bit.
“February,” Mom called when I dropped my head to look at the floor as I walked to the kitchen.
I lifted my head to look at her.
“No matter what, we love you, you know that?”
My step stuttered but I recovered. Then I swallowed.
Then I said, “I know that.”
“Now, can I have the last of the frittata?” Dad asked, eyeing my piece left in the skillet.
“Jack! That’s for Feb,” Mom scolded.
“She can make another one.”
“Jack!”
I hit the kitchen, grabbed the skillet and tipped it over Dad’s plate, sliding the last of the frittata onto his.
“We’re even for last night,” I said when I completed this task.
“What I saw at that door, girl, we already were,” Dad replied.
Damn, but I was definitely stupid.
Colt collected Feb’s mat, took it to his house and took advantage of the fact that her father was in one bathroom, her mother in the other and she was alone. Therefore, he spent some time necking with her pressed against the wall at the side of the front door. He did it until she moaned in his mouth and then he stopped, partly because he liked the idea of turning her on and then coming back to her later after she had time to let it stew. Mostly, because he liked her moaning in his mouth and if he didn’t stop, he wouldn’t have.
He wasn’t going to think about what happened between him and Feb last night or that morning. He was going to wait and see where their conversation led tonight. For his part, he was willing to set the past where it belonged and move on from there and he was going to do everything he could to get Feb to come around to his way of thinking.
He drove to the Station, parking out back, going in the backdoor and up the backstairs. He checked in, checked his voicemail then he walked down the front and saw Sully in the conference room with what had to be Marie Lowe’s parents.
He only gave them a glance, didn’t want to get caught in what could seem like a stare. It wasn’t right nor was it kind to stare at someone who’d just been tossed into the pit of grief.
He noted a lot in his glance.
He saw they were from money which meant the house was likely not just Denny providing for his wife but his wife being a trust fund baby.