John couldn’t help but smile, but a glance at Adam’s scared face sobered him up. He was strangling the poor lilies in both hands. “Adam, Rowan would like to speak to you.”
Hand shaking, Adam reached for the phone. “H-hello?”
John watched as Adam’s expression turned from scared to worried to calm. Then worried again. “I-I didn’t ask Barry. I-I watched him enough, I thought I could do it. I didn’t hurt his truck, I promise!” It took several minutes, but whatever Rowan was saying seemed to appease Adam. “Can I wait for you?” The answer must have been yes, because Adam smiled broadly and handed the phone back to John. “Rowan wants to talk to you.”
“Rowan?”
“John, we’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I told Adam he could wait for me. I’m going to have to get him back to Burbank. He doesn’t have a driver’s license.”
“I’ll take him.”
She paused. “You’d do that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
What did she think he was, an asshole? Obviously, Adam was a bit slow. He also worshipped Rowan. He didn’t mean her any harm, and he probably didn’t get a lot of breaks in the city.
“I-all right. Thank you.”
She hung up, and John stared at the phone for a minute. Rowan Smith was not a trusting soul, which didn’t bug him, except that she didn’t seem to trust
Then again, he’d deliberately invaded her space, asking her tough questions-most of which she hadn’t answered yet. And he found her captivating.
What was it about her? Sure, she was good-looking. Her white-blonde hair appeared soft and silky, something he would love to run his fingers through. She smelled fresh and natural. And her eyes-those blue-gray eyes showed him her feelings, so much better than her words and mannerisms.
She was trying so hard to figure out what she’d done to deserve the attention of this maniac. He admired her focus, her determination, her past career. He didn’t understand why she’d quit, but obviously something about the Franklin murders got to her. Burnout? It was unexpected from her personality-at least the strong, independent persona she showed to the world.
But Rowan was closed and private, kept information from him that she might not think was important, but damn well could be. John didn’t like deception, intended or not, and expected everyone he worked with to be on the up-and-up. To trust him. That code of honor was necessary in the jungles of South America, on the streets of Mexico, and in every drug port along the American coastline. If he couldn’t trust her, what did he have?
And if she didn’t trust him, how could he get closer?
He wanted to. He wanted to find out what made her tick. Like her friend Adam. Mentally slow, but Rowan had shown him some attention when it was obvious the kid had received few breaks in his life. Another facet of her complex personality.
“Adam, how about we go into the house?”
“It’s locked.”
“I know, but I have a key to the side door.” John led the way and in just a few minutes had Adam seated at the island bar. The kid was still worrying the poor flowers in his hands. “Why don’t I put those in water?”
“They’re for Rowan.”
“I know. But flowers need water.”
“Oh. Right, they need water.” He looked sheepish, and John felt bad for him. From his comments earlier, his mother hadn’t been any kind of support. Rowan obviously had taken him under her wing and had the patience of a saint. John couldn’t help but admire that in her.
John found a vase on the top shelf of the pantry and filled it with water, then poured in the packet of crystals that came with the lilies for preservation. He arranged the flowers in the vase and shook his head. “I’m not too good at this.”
Adam moved them around a little and they looked surprisingly better. “I broke one,” he said with a frown.
“That’s okay, it’s still standing.” John picked up the vase and carried it into the dining room, centering it on the table. He called through the opening into the kitchen. “Is it okay here?”
Adam looked over the pass-through and smiled. “Yes. That’s pretty.”
John came back into the kitchen. “Do you want some water? A Coke?”
Adam nodded. “Milk. And Rowan said she had chocolate chocolate chip cookies and I could have one.”
John hunted for the cookies and found them in the pantry, a half-eaten bag of gourmet double chocolate chip cookies. Rowan had a sweet tooth, and John couldn’t help but smile. She was real after all, and not just the outer shell of a perfect woman.
Rowan walked into the kitchen, Michael right behind her. John and Adam were eating cookies and drinking milk at the island. John looked up sheepishly, a milk mustache across his top lip. He looked so silly, it made her want to smile. Big tough ex-military guy walking around with milk on his upper lip. Because she found it endearing, she quickly turned to Adam and pushed the image of John from her mind.
“Adam, why did you drive all the way out here?” she asked.
Adam glanced up at her, worrying his glass in his hands. He looked both embarrassed and excited.
“I wanted to tell you I was really, really sorry about Marcy.”
“You already apologized. I told you I wasn’t mad.”
Adam frowned and stared into his almost empty glass of milk. “I know,” he mumbled. “But Barry was mad, and he still acts mad sometimes. He says Marcy might try to get me fired.”
“I won’t let Marcy get you fired. I told you that.”
“Or Barry?”
“Or Barry.”
“Promise?”
“I’ll do my best.” Rowan put her hand on Adam’s chin, making him look at her. “But what you did today was wrong. I called Barry and told him about the truck. He didn’t even know it was gone. What if he had called the police, thinking it was stolen?”
“I-I hadn’t thought about that. I wasn’t going to be gone a long time, just to bring you the flowers and go.”
“I understand, but you don’t have a driver’s license, Adam. You could have hurt someone because you don’t know all the rules of the road. I told you when you want to learn to drive, I’ll teach you and help you get your license. But you can’t do it whenever you want.”
“I’m sorry. I’m stupid. Are you mad at me?”
Rowan tried to look stern, but couldn’t pull it off. Not with Adam. She cared about him so much and wanted to strangle his mother for her cruel indifference and verbal abuse. “You’re
“But-”
“Adam.”
“Yes, Rowan. You’re not mad?”
“I’m not mad. Just don’t do it again.”
He heaved a huge sigh of relief, and Rowan gave him a hug. She glanced at John, who had a thoughtful expression on his face. She quickly turned away. She didn’t want to be drawn to John Flynn. He was dangerous. Dangerous to her.
John’s cell phone rang and he answered it. Rowan couldn’t hear the conversation, but John’s face turned from contemplative to blank like a switch. It was about her. She wanted to confront him, but she’d do the same thing in his shoes. She didn’t have to like it though.
“Thanks, Andy,” he said and hung up. He caught her eye, but his expression remained closed.
He was up to something. What?
“What was that about?” Michael asked.
Rowan had almost forgotten Michael was there. He leaned against the doorway, his casual stance belying the tension she saw in his neck and shoulders. At first she’d thought John and Michael were close, but there was a growing unease whenever they were in the same room together.
