“Nope. We didn’t know. My father didn’t know. There are other half-brothers, too, and they didn’t know. None of them knew each other existed. Had no clue that their father, Julius, had been sowing his oats when he was married to Gerald’s mom.”
“Talk about family secrets.”
He made a grunt of agreement.
The distinctive shape of a road sign loomed closer.
Salt Lake City, Utah. 530 miles.
“Well, that’s useful,” Laurel commented as they whizzed past the sign. “What about how many miles to somewhere a little closer?”
His thumb was tapping the steering wheel, keeping time with Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire” on the radio. “There’s bound to be another little town soon.”
True. They’d been passing them like tiny gemstones spaced out on a very long gold chain.
“What happened to the chartreuse car?”
His thumb paused. “Sold it after graduation.”
It made no sense to feel sad about that. But she did.
They passed several more mile markers and she caught herself when her head started nodding. She sat up straighter again, mentally shaking off the clinging drowsiness. “You made it up that you were thinking of the Mona Lisa.”
“Nope.”
She let out a breath. “What on earth even made you think of a painting like that?”
“First game of Twenty Questions we ever played. It was the object you chose.”
Disarmed, she couldn’t manage a response to save her life. Instead, she just sat there, blinking.
He slowed then and took an exit. The headlights swept over the sign bearing hotel and food symbols.
As if on cue, her stomach rumbled softly. Hollowly. “Did I win that game?”
He stopped at an intersection and turned where the sign indicated. “You always won.”
He sounded vaguely disgruntled over that fact and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.
He followed the signs, but it was fully dark by the time they reached the small town of Buckingham, which, despite its grand name, seemed to possess only a single street and a handful of buildings.
“Okaaay,” he murmured as they passed a gas station-combination-post-office on one block. Then another block that seemed comprised of ancient storefronts, all of which looked abandoned. The third block was more promising, with a tall Eat Here sign blinking next to the road.
He turned into the driveway and the tires crunched over gravel. She was surprised at the number of motorcycles and vehicles lined up in the lot.
“It’s a promising sign, right?”
He found a space in the rear of the lot between an ancient pickup truck and four Harleys and he turned off the engine. It ticked slightly. “Or it simply means there’s no other option.” He got out of the car and headed around to open her door while she was still tying her tennis shoes.
“It’s dark,” he cautioned when she got out beside him. “And if it turns out to be a biker bar, we’re leaving.”
“Wouldn’t you protect me?”
“Always.”
Her question had been light.
His answer was flat.
Then his hand settled on the small of her back and warmth bloomed inside her, weeding out the sprouts of unease.
They crossed the gravel and went up two wooden steps where a small deck crammed with tables was full of men and women dressed in leather and riding jackets.
She felt every eye following her and Adam.
She also felt him looming even closer to her and the warmth of his body burned through her blouse.
Then the beefiest of the bikers nodded his head once, making his wiry red hair bounce where it jutted from beneath the bandanna. He offered an unexpected smile. “Evenin’. Welcome to Ed’s.”
She felt Adam relax, but only slightly. He returned the greeting, though, and she offered a quick smile before he nudged her through the door with “Ed’s” painted by hand on the front of it.
The interior of the establishment was much larger than the deck and was just as crowded. But in addition to bikers, there were several families—one even with a baby in a high chair.
Adam’s hand fell away from her spine, while she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the baby. Wispy blond hair. Toothless smile as he—she was only assuming that based on the baseball-patterned shirt—waved fat little hands around, scattering the bits of food that were on the tray of his high chair.
What did Linus look like? Did he have baby-soft brown hair like hers? Or did he look like his father? Were his eyes blue? Although, weren’t all babies’ eyes blue at first?
When she’d been carrying her baby, had she bothered to learn those kinds of things? Or had she been planning how to escape from motherhood altogether?
“Hungry?” Adam’s voice drifted over her temple.
She had been. She made herself nod anyway.
Then a harried-looking woman in tight jeans and an even tighter T-shirt waved them to the far corner. “Jen’ll be with you in a minute.”
They’d just wedged themselves into the chairs on either side of a small table when another woman—younger, but flaunting the same taste in clothes—brought them a laminated menu. “I’m Jen. You’ll have t’ share this menu. Busy tonight because of the military veterans ride.” She pulled a well-used notepad out of her back pocket and poised a chewed pencil over it. “We got beer on tap and wine out of a box. No liquor. Fresh lemonade’s gone but we got plenty of tea and soda. What’ll it be?”
“Water,” Laurel ordered.
“What’s on tap?”
Jen seemed to sigh a little but reeled off a bunch of names. “All local brews.”
“I’ll take the porter.”
Without a word, she turned on her heel and walked away.
“Pleasant,” Laurel murmured wryly.
“Too many patrons. Not enough staff.” Adam angled the menu so they could both look at it, though he seemed to spend more time studying the rest of the customers than the food selections.
“That’s right.” Her eyes strayed to the baby across the room. Beneath the cacophony of the Rolling Stones on the speakers, voices and the clatter of plates, she imagined she could
