“Still do.” The waitress returned and plunked a glass of water with an ice cube bobbing in it on the table and handed him an overflowing mug before unloading the rest of her tray on the table next to them. “I just manage one now.” He caught her expression. “What?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head slightly. “It doesn’t sound quite...right.”
“I assure you, it is.” He let go of the menu and swiped a long finger across the top of his mug, taking a swath of foam along the way. He flicked it onto the floor that didn’t look as though it would suffer greatly, then took a drink. “Pretty good.” He sipped again. “Actually, really good.”
Tension seemed to ease from his wide shoulders as he set the glass on the postage stamp of a table.
The scent of the hamburgers from the adjacent table tempted Laurel’s appetite back to life. She quit looking at the few choices for salads and focused on the considerably wider selection of hot sandwiches. “Feel better?”
“Getting out of the car makes things better. A better-than-decent beer doesn’t hurt, either. Give it a try. See what you think.”
She shook her head. “I don’t drink beer.”
He looked up. The lighting inside Ed’s didn’t provide a great deal of illumination and it cast everyone in a reddish glow. “Since when?”
“Since I—” She broke off, vaguely consternated. “You said that on purpose.”
He looked amused and turned his attention back to the menu.
She sat back in her chair and folded her arms. “Maybe that’s upsetting to me. Pointing out details I should know.”
“But you’re not upset,” he observed smoothly. “Maybe a little aggravated, but not upset.”
She narrowed her eyes and snatched up the glass, taking a quick swig. Fully prepared to dislike it.
Fully chagrined to realize she didn’t.
His eyebrow peaked slightly when she set the glass back on the table with a thunk. “Told you.”
She huffed and crossed her arms again. “When you’re able to tell me something really useful about myself—like why I walked away from my own child and the man I was supposedly going to marry—you let me know.”
She was fairly certain he wouldn’t have answered even if Jen hadn’t returned at that moment with her dog-eared notepad and chewed-up pencil.
“What’ll it be?” the girl asked wearily. “Meatloaf special’s gone.”
“Cheeseburger and side salad, please,” Laurel told her.
“Cheeseburger,” Adam echoed. “Double meat. Medium.”
“It all comes out well done here, handsome.”
“Fair enough. Fries any good?”
She lifted her shoulder. “They get the job done.”
“Fries, then. Who’s Ed?”
“Ed Maxwell? He’s the guy who brewed that porter.” She swept up the menu.
“Tell him thanks. It’s good.”
She cracked the faintest of smiles. “Tell him yourself. You had to have passed him on your way in here. Big guy. Flaming red hair.” She headed away once more.
“You do that,” Laurel realized slowly.
“What?”
“Reach through the—” She waved her hand, searching for the word she wanted. “I don’t know. The fog surrounding people. They respond to you.”
He grimaced slightly. “I obviously kept you in the car too long today. You’re imagining things.” He pushed out of his chair. “You going to be okay if I leave you alone for a minute?”
She raised her eyebrows. “I think I can manage to sit here by myself while you go to the little boys’ room.”
His lips kicked up. “While you wait,” he said as he pulled out his phone and handed it to her, “find out if there’s any Wi-Fi.”
She took the phone. “Because?”
“Once we find a place to crash for the night, we need to figure out how far we can get tomorrow without you getting delusional. Password’s zero-nine-two-nine.”
She watched him make his way through the close-set tables. Then she sighed faintly and picked up his beer to take another sip.
“You want one of your own?” The waitress returned with a basket of rolls that she set on the table.
Laurel started to refuse but then nodded. “Thank you.”
“Food’ll be up in a few. Hope your sex-on-a-stick boyfriend hasn’t taken a powder.”
It wasn’t worth correcting Jen that Adam wasn’t her boyfriend. The rest of her description was all too accurate. “He’ll be back.”
Jen set two sets of flatware wrapped in paper napkins on the table. “Heard that before.” Evidently, the good humor she’d exhibited for Adam was reserved strictly for him.
Laurel held up the phone. “Do you have Wi-Fi here?”
“Edsplace. No spaces. Password is GUEST. All caps.” She moved to the table behind Adam’s chair, where she began scooping up plates.
Laurel swiped her thumb across the phone screen and entered the password. The navigation app he’d used earlier that day leaped to life. She’d barely entered the Wi-Fi information before notifications started popping up on the screen.
All of them from Ashley. All of them accompanied by a tiny image of an obviously pretty blonde.
Laurel quickly set the phone back on the table and grabbed one of the rolls from the basket.
Of course it was too much to think that Adam wouldn’t have an Ashley in his life. For all she knew, he had a half dozen Ashleys in his life.
Shoving half the roll in her mouth did nothing at all to take away the bitter taste of that thought.
“What’re you frowning about?” Adam asked as he angled himself back into his chair.
She flushed and forced down the wad of bread with a gulp of water. “Nothing,” she managed.
But he was already looking at his phone and the messages there. Whatever he read had him frowning, though he set the phone aside when the waitress delivered their food.
Then his lips twitched when he saw the second mug that she also set on the table in front of Laurel.
“Just...hush,” she told him severely.
He lifted his broad hands peaceably. “Didn’t say a word, sweetheart. Not one word.”
Chapter Seven
The town of Buckingham, they learned when Adam paid the bill after they’d consumed the unexpectedly delicious burgers, possessed three different
