“What predicament?” Catriona would need both hands to count all their predicaments, but Gorgeous Annie wouldn’t be likely to know any of them.
Anne shared another one of her reassuring smiles. “Can I buy you two lunch?”
“We were aboot tae get lunch,” said Broch, always excited to hear food forthcoming. Catriona glared at him. Clearly, they were going to have to have the stranger danger conversation again. They didn’t know Anne from Adam.
Catriona pushed past the siren song of Anne’s calming demeanor and shook her head. “Anne, I’m sorry, we don’t know you—”
The stranger’s smile slipped away and suddenly Catriona felt the nature of the visit had changed.
“I’m here about Rune and Luther.”
At the sound of those names, Catriona’s blood tingled. The lust hormones dissipated, replaced by what felt like seltzer.
“How—”
“Explanation is what lunch is for.”
Catriona swallowed. “You work with Rune?”
“Quite the opposite.”
Catriona glanced at Broch. He was staring at her, his expression telegraphing, whit are ye waiting fer?
She always imagined his expressions had an accent as well.
Catriona opened her mouth to throw out another excuse as to why Anne had to leave, and found she lacked the energy to deny the woman her lunch date.
“There’s a Mexican spot around the corner. Is that okay?”
Anne nodded and pulled a phone from the pocket of her adorable skort. She texted someone and slipped it away as Catriona and Broch exited the Jeep.
“Lead the way,” said Anne, holding out a hand.
Catriona and Broch left the studio parking lot and headed toward Señor Chips, walking side-by-side with Anne behind them on the narrow pavement.
“Why are we going to lunch with this woman?” mumbled Catriona as they walked.
Broch clucked his tongue. “Ah’m nae sure. She’s—ah cannae—” He seemed to struggle for the words and Catriona nodded.
“I know. Me, too.”
She glanced back to find Anne still following them, as expected. She smiled.
Catriona smiled back.
Why is that?
They took a seat on the back patio of Señor Chips in the corner, farthest away from a couple happily chatting about the differences between Modela and Carta Blanca beers.
Catriona sat and spoke the moment Anne’s butt hit the seat.
“What do you know about Rune?”
Anne crossed her hands in front of her on the table. “I know Rune is causing you problems and that you think Luther is dead.”
It took Catriona a moment to shake the initial shock of Anne’s intimate knowledge of her life. “I don’t think Luther’s dead. I know he’s dead. I saw his body.”
Anne suddenly looked up, past Catriona. “There you are.”
Catriona turned as an enormous and very familiar black man sat in the empty chair beside her.
Luther.
“Hey, firecracker,” he said, smiling. He reached out to take Catriona’s hand and she snatched it back as if he were made of acid.
“Who are you? What is this?” She looked at Broch, who sat smiling at Luther’s doppleganger as if nothing in their universe had changed.
“What are you smiling about?”
“’Tis Luther.”
“No it’s not. We saw his body.” She turned to Luther. “We saw your body.”
“It’s him. Ah kin tell.” Broch stood and Luther did the same. They embraced in a loud, clapping hug.
When they were done, Luther looked down at Catriona.
“You got one for me?”
Catriona found herself unable to speak.
Luther touched her cheek. “It’s really me. I promise.”
Tears welled in Catriona’s eyes.
“But how—”
“I’ll tell you the story.” He nodded to Anne. “Or she will. Either way, give me a hug.”
With one final hesitation, Catriona stood and threw her arms around him.
He feels like Luther. Smells like him.
“I thought you were dead,” she said, squeezing him to her. She no longer cared if it was an elaborate trick on them. It felt too good to have him back.
“I wouldn’t leave you all for long. You know that.”
After a long hug, they returned to their seats, Catriona still feeling shaky. She rested her head in her hands, one clamped on each side of her skull.
“Somebody explain.”
Luther looked to Anne and she pointed to her chest. “Me?”
Luther chuckled. “Honestly, I’m not sure if I could.”
“Hola! I’m Jason. How are you all today?” The server bounced to the table as if his shoes were made of superballs. Catriona could tell by his accent he was from the Midwest, and he was handsome enough to break into the movies. In the meantime, apparently, he was going to be the best darn waiter Senor Chips had ever seen.
“Ah lik the carne asada, here, with the flour wrap thing,” said Broch to Anne, helpful as always.
Catriona sighed.
We’re sitting at a table with a mysterious stranger and a dead man like it’s nothing.
“One carne coming up!” said Jason scribbling on his pad like a mad monk transcribing an auctioneer.
“You got a soft steak taco, right?” asked Luther.
Luther always orders steak tacos. Catriona put another mark in the It’s Luther column.
“Sure do. You want corn or flour tortillas?”
“Flour.”
Catriona mouthed the word with him, knowing what he would order.
He really looks like Luther. She wanted to poke his cheek but instead she tapped his arm. It felt solid.
“Is that what ghosts eat? Steak soft tacos?” she asked.
“I’ve got a friend back at the house who could tell you what ghosts eat,” murmured Anne as she looked over the menu. Then more loudly, “I think I’ll take the crispy pork belly taco. Flour please.”
“Will do. And you?” Jason looked at Catriona.
She smiled. “I’ll take a sangria in a bucket as big as my head.”
“So that would be the large...” mumbled Jason, scribbling. “Any food?”
Catriona couldn’t fathom eating. “Not right now.”
“Okay, I’ll be
