Winter Black Box Set 2

by Mary Stone

  Winter’s lips curled into a smirk. Why are you staying sober?

  You should see the prices on this drink menu. I’d have to take out a loan just to get a buzz.

  Winter stifled a chuckle with one hand as she leaned back in her seat on the couch. You should have brought a flask, she wrote.

  Tell me about it. Seriously, this is the most awkward dinner conversation of literally my entire life. I’m surprised we haven’t devolved to chatting about the weather or the color of the leaves. My god, I want to leave.

  Her thumbs stabbed at the screen. Do you need a chauffeur?

  If you’re offering, then yes, please, for the love of god, yes.

  All right, I’ll leave the excuse part to you. I’ll be there soon. Send me the address.

  Chuckling to herself, Winter pushed to her feet and made her way to the front door. She slid on her favorite leather jacket, a pair of flats that didn’t go with her casual t-shirt and leggings combination, and grabbed her keys.

  At almost eight in the evening, traffic was light enough, and she pulled into the parking lot within fifteen minutes. Most of the dinnertime diners had already dispersed, and there weren’t many other cars in front of the upscale eatery. As Winter glanced from one shiny vehicle to the next, she suddenly felt out of place.

  Based on the brief description that had accompanied her search for directions, the restaurant catered to a wealthy demographic. Still, she hadn’t expected the place to be quite so elegant.

  “Hoity-toity,” she murmured to herself as she shifted her gaze from a Lexus to a Mercedes and then a Tesla.

  Hoity-toity was exactly how Gramma Beth would describe the restaurant and its patrons.

  Winter hadn’t seen her grandmother in a couple months, but now that it was mid-September, she and her Gramma would be due for their annual apple orchard expedition. They would load up with fresh apples, and when they returned to the house, Winter would help Gramma dice the apples into little slices so they could stash them away in the freezer.

  As the fall season took hold, Beth would cook all manner of apple desserts—apple pie, apple crisp, apple cake, apple Danish.

  Maybe this year, Winter would finally take the time to learn her Gramma’s trade secrets. Winter had never been much of a cook, but based on Autumn’s musings, cooking and baking were two different beasts. Cooking required a great deal of improvisation, but baking was specific and orderly. According to Autumn, baking was a great way to alleviate stress and anxiety.

  Plus, at the end of it, she would have a delicious treat to eat.

  She was so caught up in the idea of learning to bake that she didn’t see Noah until he was almost at the car.

  Flashing him a quick smile, she pressed a button to unlock the doors.

  As he dropped down to situate his six-foot-four frame in the passenger side of the little Civic, he glanced over to her. “Hey,” he greeted. “You look like you’re in a good mood.”

  “No.” The denial popped out of her mouth before she could stop it, and she had to backpedal. “Well, yes, sort of. I just had an idea.”

  He paused in the process of fastening his seatbelt. “An idea? Does it involve us going to a bar and doing a line of tequila shots? Because that sounds like a downright amazing idea after dealing with that man for three hours.”

  She wagged a playful finger at him, enjoying how much lighter she felt. “No, it doesn’t. You know how Gramma Beth and I always go to different apple orchards in the fall, right?”

  He gave his lips an exaggerated lick. “Right.”

  “Well, it’s more like I go with her and help carry the apples, but it’s something we’ve done since I started living with them when I was a kid. I was just thinking that, this year, I might have her teach me how to bake. And maybe I can bring Autumn with me so she can take home a bunch of apples for herself. You can come with us if you want, or you and Grampa can hold down the fort and play poker while we’re gone.”

  The last bit of tension seemed to drain from his face. “Poker and pie are two of my favorite things.” He patted his flat belly for emphasis.

  In that moment, Winter realized how similar Noah and Autumn behaved when they were under stress. Both of them diffused tension with humor, often made at their expense.

  Winter returned his smile and shrugged. “Autumn says that when you’re going through a tough time, it’s good to make plans that you can look forward to. I’ll call Gramma tomorrow and set it all up. That way we’ve all got something to look forward to in the next couple weeks.”

  There was a wistful glint in his eyes as he nodded. “That’s perfect, Winter. Thank you.”

  She gave him one last smile before she turned her attention back to the car. Though she wasn’t entirely sure what the newest strained shadow behind his eyes meant, the sentiment was shared between them.

  Any time she spotted a pang of unease or sadness in Noah’s eyes brought on by the recent reconnection with his sperm donor of a father, she was torn between her desire to punch Eric in the face or give Noah a hug.

  Maybe I could do both, she thought bitterly.

  Tapping a finger on the steering wheel, she pulled her thoughts back to the present. “So, did that go better than you expected, or worse?”

  “Oh my god.” The words were muffled as he rubbed his eyes with both hands. “I don’t know if he asked me to come to that restaurant because he’s just genuinely that damn out of touch, or if he was trying to prove something. He’s one of those people who has to constantly remind everyone he knows of how damn well he’s done for himself. He’s in debt to the damn mafia right now, but he just had to find a fancy restaurant where he knew the owner. Couldn’t settle for someplace where the normal peasants go, you know what I mean?”

  With a snort, Winter nodded. “Oh, I do.”

  “He’s more like one of those people who try to one-up everything you say, and not the types like Aiden Parrish. Parrish doesn’t have to remind anyone of anything, and if I had to guess, I’d say that’s because he probably doesn’t really give a shit about his social status. You know, I’d almost like to get those two together. I bet Parrish would make Eric feel like a dumb little kid.”

  She put the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. “You have no idea how accurate that is.”

  “But that…” he mimicked sipping from a teacup with his pinky sticking out, “that whole upper-class yacht, country club bullshit, that’s the whole reason that asshole ditched us in the first place.”

  She glanced over to him when she was forced to stop at a red light almost immediately. “Really?”

  The ruddy yellow streetlights shifted along his face as he scowled into the distance. “I’ve never asked him specifically, but it seems pretty obvious. Mom’s a Texas farm girl, and she’s always been content with her roots. Eric’s from the same damn small town, but I guess he wasn’t all right with that. Like he hides behind all this nice shit and all these expensive places and fancy cars so he can try to forget that he grew up in a single-wide trailer in the middle of rural Texas.”

  She fought the urge to reach over and squeeze his hand. “It’s one thing to be proud of what you’ve accomplished, but it’s another to rub other people’s faces in it.”

  “Exactly! Thank you! And that’s something that none of them can wrap their heads around. Not him, not his wife, not his kids, none of them. They’re all just like him. They’re up at the top of the food chain now, and they don’t want anyone to forget it, even if it meant borrowing money from the damn devil himself.”

  She glanced to him and then back to the windshield as the light turned green. “You think that’s part of it, then? His obsession with being a rich person is part of the reason he decided to be an idiot and ask the Russians for money?”

  “You know, I wasn’t really sure he could be that stupid until he had me come to this place for dinner tonight. The guy’s up to his eyeballs in debt, and he’s eating out at restaurants with menus that don’t even list the
prices. I mean, granted, he paid with gift certificates and got a discount because he knows the owner, but still.”

  Flicking on her turn signal, Winter nodded. “That makes a little more sense, then. He was desperate to maintain his social standing.”

  Noah propped an elbow on the doorframe and dropped his head to rest in his hand. “That man is something else,” he muttered. “Honestly, I’m glad he bailed when he did. I’m glad my mom and Chris raised Lucy and me. If they hadn’t, if Eric had stuck around, we’d be a couple uptight little shits like Natalie and Ethan.”

  At the thought of Noah Dalton as an “uptight little shit,” a series of images flashed through her imagination. Noah in tennis whites. Or wearing an ascot while pouring top label bourbon from a crystal decanter. She couldn’t suppress her snort of laughter. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just, you said that, and I pictured you playing tennis at a country club, and it was hilarious.”

  With a groan, he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Oh, god help me if that day ever comes. If it does, I want you to take that tennis racket and hit me in the head with it, all right?”

  Winter laughed at the newest visual. “Absolutely, and I’ll get Autumn to set up an intervention too.”

  He clapped his hands together. “Perfect. You guys are the best.”

  They lapsed into silence for the rest of the car ride, though Noah reached down to change the radio station when a familiar ‘80s power ballad started. The swift action brought a smile to her face as she pulled the Civic into a parking spot.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She turned off the ignition and offered him a curious look. “Why?”

  Heaving a sigh, he sagged against the passenger side seat. “All this bitching about Eric. Even calling him Eric instead of ‘dad’ makes me feel like I’m some snotty emo kid from the early 2000s. I’ve been so worked up about what an asshole he is that it slipped my mind that you’re dealing with your own plate of bullshit right now too.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Oh. You’re worried that you’re hogging all the conversation?”

  “Something like that, yeah. Hogging it with all my high school emo nonsense.”

  She settled back into her seat, smiling at a memory.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You remember a few months ago when we were walking back to the office? The day we yelled at one another in the elevator? That’s what I said to you. I said I felt guilty for hogging the conversation. It’s all right, Noah. That’s what I’m here for. I’m feeling a little better, anyway. Autumn said some stuff yesterday that made a lot of sense to me, and it helped.”

  Rather than wistful or strained, his smile in response was warm, almost content. She didn’t think she would ever get sick of seeing that smile.

  The flutter in her stomach was back in full force, and before she could pause to reconsider the action, she turned in her seat and leaned into him. Even though she was nervous, there were no doubts in her mind. She worried he might recoil, might stop her in place and ask what in the hell had gotten into her, or that he might fling open the door and run off into the night, but she didn’t doubt that she wanted this.

  Didn’t doubt that she wanted to try.

  When he closed the remaining distance, she thought her heart might have stopped. Sure, she had kissed guys before, she had even kissed Noah before, but this was different. This was the type of kiss that musicians wrote songs about, the type of feeling that inspired romance novels. In that moment, everything was good.

  The kiss was tentative at first, almost like they each wanted to make sure the moment was real and not another regrettable accident. His lips were soft, and the warmth of his hand on the back of her neck was just short of intoxicating. As the kissed deepened, she reached to brush her fingers along his cheek.

  Even when the stubble on his face scratched her skin, it was like it served as a reminder of who he was and why she was here. As she parted her lips, she could taste the faint trace of mint on his tongue. She tightened her grip on the taut muscle of his upper arm and scooted as close to him as she could manage.

  Just like that, she was swept away. In that moment, she was far from the real world and all its problems, and all that mattered was the overwhelming desire to be as close to this man as she could. Why in the hell had she waited so long to do this? If she had known it would make her feel like this, she would have done it months earlier.

  But when the thud of a nearby car door sounded out, the spell was broken. At half-past eight in the evening, they were in the front seat of her car in the middle of an apartment complex parking lot. None of the windows were tinted, and any passersby would have been granted a front row seat to each and every movement they made.

  Part of the thought was thrilling, but she suspected the rush of anticipation that coursed through her body was responsible for the excitement.

  As they separated, the movements belied none of the split-second of anxiety that had been brought on by the sound of another person. The motions were slow, almost reluctant. She didn’t want this to stop, but neither did she want one of their neighbors to see them making out in her car like a couple teenagers on prom night.

  She could feel his increased heart rate beneath her fingertips as their eyes met, and she suspected she had gotten her point across.

  She wanted him, and no one else.

  “That was…” he paused to look pensive as he flexed his fingers against her neck, “unexpected.”

  A slight smirk played across her lips. “Good unexpected or bad unexpected?”

  He chuckled quietly. “Definitely good.”

  Though she spotted a hint of trepidation in his green eyes, she bit her tongue to keep the slew of questions to herself. Why would he be nervous? Did he think she would confess her regret to him the next day? Had he come to realize he didn’t want that with her?

  “Good,” she said instead. With one more quick smile, she pulled the key from the ignition and shoved open the driver’s side door. A temperate breeze carried the first trace of fall past them as they made their way to the apartment building.

  Though she was sure she could ask him if she could accompany him home, she swallowed down the question before she could blurt it out.

  She remembered the abject sense of embarrassment she felt the last time she had posed such an idea when they returned home late at night. If it hadn’t been for the flicker of anxiety she’d spotted when they separated, she would have gone through with the proposition.

  “Okay, well.” She shoved her hands into the pocket of her leather jacket.

  “I guess I’ve got a lot of Supernatural to watch, so I’m going to go do that.”

  He grinned in response. “Good plan.”

  It might have been a figment of her imagination, but she thought he stood closer to her than usual. Before she could blurt out any one of the hundreds of questions that flitted through her head, she stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

  He smelled so good as he pulled her into the embrace.

  “Goodnight, darlin’,” he murmured.

  His breath was warm on the side of her face, and she was half-tempted to drag him right along with her when she went to her apartment.

  “Night, Noah,” she managed as she stepped out to arms’ length. “See you in the morning.”

  When he flashed her one of his trademarked grins, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to crawl into a hole in the ground or throw her arms up in celebration, so she did neither.

  God, she hoped she was right about this.

  10

  “Special Agent Stafford.”

  Bree stopped mid-step to turn around to face the owner of the familiar voice, a friend she hadn’t seen since close to the beginning of the year, and a long-time investigator of Baltimore’s organized crime.

  “Drew,” she said, genuinely pleased to see him. “Wow, it feels like it’s been forever. You look good.�
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  He chuckled. “You’re always too nice to me. I’ve got a two-year-old, so I know I always look like I just woke up from being dead for half a century. It’s okay, you can say it.”

  “Whatever.” She laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “If you did just wake up from being dead for half a century, then you’re definitely rocking it. You make undead look good, my friend.”

  Drew’s pale blue eyes glittered with amusement as he spread his hands and shrugged. “If you say so, Stafford. You’re the one who’s going to marry a model, so I’ll take your discriminating taste into account.”

  The thought of Shelby made her smile. “You know, I’ve never thought of it, but I bet I’d make the guys I went to high school with pretty jealous. They all wanted to marry models, but here I am engaged to one. How’s Amelia, anyway? And little Emma? I haven’t seen her since she was a teeny tiny baby.” With a wide smile, Bree held up her arms like she held an invisible baby.

  “Wow, it has been that long, hasn’t it?” Drew tapped a pensive finger against his chin. “Time flies when you’ve got a tiny human running around wreaking havoc, I guess. She’s good, though. So is Amelia. She got her degree about a year ago, and now she’s a children’s counselor. I’ll have to show you some pictures of Emma with Amelia’s cat. Sometimes, I think the cat thinks that Emma is her kitten. Honestly, it’s pretty great. If I thought I could get away with it, I’d pay Bob to babysit her.”

  “Bob?”

  Drew chuckled. “Bob is the cat’s name. Amelia’s had him for five years now, since he was a kitten. He’s surprisingly maternal. We have to leave Emma’s door open at night so Bob can go sleep curled around her head. I’ve got pictures, but I know that’s not why you’re here.”

  “I want to see all of them.” Bree laughed. “But you’re not entirely wrong. I’m here working a case.”

  “Well, you caught me at a good time. I’m in a lull right now. Come on.” He beckoned for her to follow him down the row of cubicles. “Let’s grab some coffee. I don’t know about you, but I need it at seven in the morning.”