having a wedding in a few weeks? Is your dress nice?” He was peeling the avocado.
“It’s lovely,” Sara said as she hid her smile in her iced tea. He certainly wasn’t like the men she knew. “It was my great-aunt Lissie’s wedding gown.”
Mike put a bowl of the avocado dip he’d made in front of her, along with another one of tortilla chips. “So when do I get to meet your fiancé?”
He hadn’t taken long to start in on what everyone hassled her about! Sara thought. She was torn between wanting to throw the bowl at him and bursting into tears. But in the next minute he removed a frosty pitcher of margaritas from the refrigerator and poured her a glassful. She drank it in one gulp. He looked at her with wide eyes but quickly poured her another one.
After she’d taken a long sip, he said, “Better?”
Sara nodded and dug into the chips and dip.
“I take it everyone has been asking about him, but you don’t know when he’ll be back, so you have no answer to give them.”
“Exactly,” Sara said, feeling relaxed for the first time since Greg left.
“Maybe he went home,” Mike said as he put slices of pear on salad greens.
“He lives here. With me.”
“No, I mean, maybe he went to the place where his parents live.”
“Oh.”
Mike sprinkled piñon nuts over the salad and drizzled raspberry vinaigrette on top. “Did you call his parents?” he asked as he put the plate in front of her.
Sara mumbled a reply.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear what you said.”
She waited while she chewed a bite of salad. “I don’t know where his parents live—or if they do. He told me about some extremely unpleasant experiences he had while growing up, but he didn’t give me details like names and addresses.”
“Ah,” Mike said as he turned his back to her, and he thought that it was true that Stefan had had some very unpleasant thingshappen in his childhood. He’d served two years in juvie for stealing a car, six months for attempting to rob a jewelry store, and had been arrested twice for pickpocketing. By the time Stefan was eighteen, he was an experienced criminal and hadn’t been arrested since. “So you don’t know about his family?”
“No! And don’t you start on me too! Everyone has a right to privacy, and besides, I’ve heard enough complaints about him from my mother, from this whole town. I bet you have things you don’t want people to know about.”
“Ask me anything. I’m an open book.” He removed the two Cornish hens he’d ordered that morning and quickly began to stuff them with wild rice and herbs he’d prepared before he went out to see Sara. One of the good things about his life of living undercover was that he’d had to work at a lot of jobs. One of the handiest was the eighteen months he’d spent as a sous chef for a restaurant in Arizona. He could whip out a fajita in ten minutes.
“Where did you grow up?”
“Akron, Ohio.”
“Why does Tess refuse to talk about her childhood?”
“I thought this was about me, not my sister.”
“She’s my friend; you’re a stranger.”
Mike tied up the hens. He’d once tied up a man in the same way, legs together, arms in the back, cord down his front. “You’re right. What’s about me is about Tess. Our parents were killed in a car wreck when I was twelve and Tess was five, so we were raised by our maternal grandparents.” He put the birds in the oven.
“I’ve heard of your grandmother.”
“I bet you have. They tell you what a bad-tempered woman she was?”
“Yes,” Sara said quietly. “Was your grandfather nice?”
Mike looked back at her. “We rarely saw him. Grans said he hadto travel for his job, but after he died in ’99, I found out that he’d had a second family.”
“Good heavens.” Sara paused with the fork on the way to her mouth and watched as Mike took the seat across from her.
“Are you beginning to see why Tess doesn’t talk about her childhood?”
“Yes,” Sara said,
“It’s lovely,” Sara said as she hid her smile in her iced tea. He certainly wasn’t like the men she knew. “It was my great-aunt Lissie’s wedding gown.”
Mike put a bowl of the avocado dip he’d made in front of her, along with another one of tortilla chips. “So when do I get to meet your fiancé?”
He hadn’t taken long to start in on what everyone hassled her about! Sara thought. She was torn between wanting to throw the bowl at him and bursting into tears. But in the next minute he removed a frosty pitcher of margaritas from the refrigerator and poured her a glassful. She drank it in one gulp. He looked at her with wide eyes but quickly poured her another one.
After she’d taken a long sip, he said, “Better?”
Sara nodded and dug into the chips and dip.
“I take it everyone has been asking about him, but you don’t know when he’ll be back, so you have no answer to give them.”
“Exactly,” Sara said, feeling relaxed for the first time since Greg left.
“Maybe he went home,” Mike said as he put slices of pear on salad greens.
“He lives here. With me.”
“No, I mean, maybe he went to the place where his parents live.”
“Oh.”
Mike sprinkled piñon nuts over the salad and drizzled raspberry vinaigrette on top. “Did you call his parents?” he asked as he put the plate in front of her.
Sara mumbled a reply.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear what you said.”
She waited while she chewed a bite of salad. “I don’t know where his parents live—or if they do. He told me about some extremely unpleasant experiences he had while growing up, but he didn’t give me details like names and addresses.”
“Ah,” Mike said as he turned his back to her, and he thought that it was true that Stefan had had some very unpleasant thingshappen in his childhood. He’d served two years in juvie for stealing a car, six months for attempting to rob a jewelry store, and had been arrested twice for pickpocketing. By the time Stefan was eighteen, he was an experienced criminal and hadn’t been arrested since. “So you don’t know about his family?”
“No! And don’t you start on me too! Everyone has a right to privacy, and besides, I’ve heard enough complaints about him from my mother, from this whole town. I bet you have things you don’t want people to know about.”
“Ask me anything. I’m an open book.” He removed the two Cornish hens he’d ordered that morning and quickly began to stuff them with wild rice and herbs he’d prepared before he went out to see Sara. One of the good things about his life of living undercover was that he’d had to work at a lot of jobs. One of the handiest was the eighteen months he’d spent as a sous chef for a restaurant in Arizona. He could whip out a fajita in ten minutes.
“Where did you grow up?”
“Akron, Ohio.”
“Why does Tess refuse to talk about her childhood?”
“I thought this was about me, not my sister.”
“She’s my friend; you’re a stranger.”
Mike tied up the hens. He’d once tied up a man in the same way, legs together, arms in the back, cord down his front. “You’re right. What’s about me is about Tess. Our parents were killed in a car wreck when I was twelve and Tess was five, so we were raised by our maternal grandparents.” He put the birds in the oven.
“I’ve heard of your grandmother.”
“I bet you have. They tell you what a bad-tempered woman she was?”
“Yes,” Sara said quietly. “Was your grandfather nice?”
Mike looked back at her. “We rarely saw him. Grans said he hadto travel for his job, but after he died in ’99, I found out that he’d had a second family.”
“Good heavens.” Sara paused with the fork on the way to her mouth and watched as Mike took the seat across from her.
“Are you beginning to see why Tess doesn’t talk about her childhood?”
“Yes,” Sara said,
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