"Amen." Kate pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.
"Amen."
"Amen. Thank you, Rob."
"You're welcome, Mother." He grabbed his fork and ate the mushroom in two bites. He stabbed a few more and put them on his plate next to his potato, which was piled high with butter and sour cream. "You brought these?"
"Yes."
"They're good," he said and reached for a dinner roll.
"Thank you." She took a bite of her plain potato, sans everything but salt and pepper.
"How're things going for you at the store, Kate?" Grace asked.
Before she could utter a word, her grandfather answered for her, "Katie's not a people person."
Rob made a sound next to her like he was choking on his wine. Kate ignored him and looked across the table at her grandfather. What? She was a people person.
"Perhaps your talents lay elsewhere." Grace refolded the napkin on her lap. "Stanley told me that you used to work in Las Vegas as a private investigator."
She'd always been good with people. Her people skills were what had made her a good private investigator. "Yes, I was." She turned her gaze to Rob, who was trying not to laugh. He obviously didn't think she was a people person either.
"Well, I think it's admirable that you left all that behind to help out your grandfather."
Kate returned her attention to her grandfather. I'm not a people person? When did that happen? Probably about the time she'd been dumped by her last boyfriend and a psychopath had hired her to hunt down his family. "Actually, my grandfather is helping me out. When I decided that I didn't want to do investigative work anymore, I quit my job, and he's let me move in with him until I figure out what I do want to do."
"And I'm glad to have her," her grandfather said with a smile, but she wasn't so sure he meant it.
She really hadn't figured anything out. She'd been in Gospel going on two months, and she was just as rudderless as the day she'd arrived. As she cut into her prime rib and took a bite, the conversation went on without her. Lately, she'd begun to feel as if the thing she was looking for was right in front of her eyes, but she couldn't see it. Maybe, if she got out of her own way, she could see the forest for the trees.
"So, it sounds like you got in some skiing before the resort closed. That's good," Stanley said, pulling Kate's attention from her thoughts. She glanced at her grandfather, whose gaze was directed at Rob. How had the conversation turned from the M &S to skiing in Sun Valley? Kate's least favorite subject.
"Yes. The trip I took in February was great. Lots of powder. Perfect weather. Cute lodge bunnies."
Under the table, his knee touched Kate's. She looked at him out of the corners of her eyes, but he was looking at her grandfather. "One of them had a very interesting tattoo."
"Robert." Grace leaned forward and stared at her son. "You know you have to stay away from bunnies of any kind. They're trouble."
He laughed. "In more ways than one," he said, then dug into his baked potato.
Grace gave her son one last withering glance and turned her attention to Kate. "Do you ski, Kate?"
"No. I never learned."
"If you're here next winter, Rob can teach you."
She seriously doubted she would be in Gospel next fall, let alone next winter. "Oh, I don't think-"
"I'd love to," Rob interrupted, and his thigh pressed into hers again.
Warmth from his touch seeped through her skirt and heated up the outside of her thigh. She turned her head and looked at him as he popped the olive into his mouth. "No, really. I'd break my neck."
He glanced at her lips and swallowed. "I'd take good care of you, Kate. We'll start off nice and easy." A wicked little glint shone through his eyes as he raised his gaze to hers. "Real slow, then work up to something hard."
Kate waited for his mother to call him "Robert" and scold him for his obvious sexual innuendo. She didn't. "Starting slow is so important," Grace said instead. Then she played right into his hands. "And good equipment."
"Can't have a good time without good equipment. " Rob reached for his wine, but kept his gaze on Kate. "Maybe I'll show you mine sometime."
"Good equipment is important no matter what you do in life," her grandfather joined in, as oblivious as Grace. "I buy the best saws and knives money can buy. And you have to make sure your equipment is always in good working order."
A side of Rob's mouth turned up, lifting one corner of his Fu Manchu. "Amen."
Kate crossed her legs and removed his touch from her knee. "Did you know that Americans consume seventy-six billion pounds of red meat and poultry a year?" she asked, purposely changing the subject.
"Well, isn't that interesting?" Grace said.
Rob raised his wine to his lips. "Fascinating."
"I don't know about all that, but I do know this is the best meal I've had in a long time," Stanley complimented the cook.
What! Kate cooked for him all the time. She was a good cook and a people person.
"Thank you, Stanley. I know a very good butcher." Grace took a bite, then spoke the words that struck terror in Kate's heart. "I thought that after dinner, I'd read everyone my newest poems."
"I'd love to hear them," her grandfather said. And Kate felt like kicking him under the table. She glanced at Rob, whose fork was paused in midair. He looked like a deer in a spotlight.
"I wish I could stay," he said at last and placed his fork on his plate. "But I have too much work to do."
Grace smiled. "I understand."
Since it had worked for Rob, Kate gave it a try. "Yeah, I have some work to do, too."
"Like what?" her grandfather wanted to know.
Crap!"Like… making stuff."
"What stuff?"
"Stuff…for the store."
"What stuff?"
She glanced around the room, and her gaze landed on a basket of dinner rolls. "Bread." Her answer sounded so lame that she doubted anyone would believe it.
"Oh." Stanley nodded. "Your grandmother used to bake bread and sell it in the store."
"I remember that," Grace said through a genuine smile. "Melba always made the best bread."
"Well, I guess Katie and I can't stay and hear your poetry tonight."
Grace's smile fell. "Oh, that's too bad."
Shame weighted Kate's shoulders, and she was just about to say she'd stay when Rob took the matter into his hands.
"I'll take Kate home," he volunteered, and Kate didn't know which would be worse: staying for a poetry reading or riding alone in a car with Rob Sutter.
Eleven
Riding alone in Rob's HUMMER. was worse. The vehicle was huge, and yet he seemed to take up so much space-and not physically, although he was a big guy. It was the deep texture of his voice filling the shadows as he answered her questions about his vehicle. It was the smell of his skin and the starch in his shirt mixed with the scent of leather seats. The lights from the dash lit up the dark interior with so many digital displays that she couldn't even guess what half of them were for. According to Rob, the HUMMER had heated seats, a Bose stereo, and a navigation system. If that wasn't enough, it also had OnStar.
"Do you know how to use that thing?" she asked and pointed to the blue navigation screen.
"Sure." He took one hand from the wheel, pushed a few buttons, and the city display of Gospel popped up. As if a person could get lost in Gospel.
"Do you need it to find your way home?"
He chuckled and glanced across the vehicle at her, one side of his face washed in blue light. "No, but it comes in handy when I travel to places I've never been before. I used it a lot this past February when I went skiing with my buddies." He turned his gaze back to the road. "I've been meaning to ask you something."
"What?"
"Do you really have a tattoo on your butt?"
Her fingers on the hors d'oeuvre plate in her lap tightened. "You need to forget that night ever happened."