Yeah, she thought, she felt steadier talking it through with him.

“I barely knew anyone when this started. I was in a new school, had just hooked up with Teesha and Hector and Loren.”

“But people knew you, from the videos you made with your mother, then the one you made yourself. So it doesn’t have to be someone you know, some guy you dumped, some wannabe boyfriend.”

“I didn’t have boyfriends when this started anyway.”

“That’s too bad. Still, it’s unlikely if you had some guy you tossed over when you were seventeen, he’d carry a torch so hot he’d keep this up all these years.”

He glanced back at her. “Not that you’re not torch worthy.”

“Thanks for that. It doesn’t feel that kind of personal. Not the ‘I loved you, but you rejected me’ sort of way.”

“They don’t know you any more than you know them.”

Now she frowned at him. She’d thought the same, but couldn’t pinpoint the reason she believed it.

“Why do you say that?”

“Someone who does this?” He tapped a finger on the bag she carried. “It seems to me they’d want you obsessing as much as they are. That’s the purpose. They want—probably more need—to stick in your mind, screw up your life. But they don’t. You’re too tough for that.”

“I don’t feel all that tough right now.”

Because it came as natural as breathing to offer comfort or support, he put an arm around her for a quick side hug.

“It messes you up in the moment—and you’d be an idiot if you didn’t react. You’re not an idiot. But you’ll follow your protocol, and you’ll shake it off, and get on with your life and your work. I don’t think he knows that, so he’s not around here where he could see you do just that.”

“I hope to hell not.”

“Not. There’s not enough rage in the poem, not enough frustration. He thinks he’s clever, insidious. He’s smart enough to cover his tracks and to put a few lines and beats on a page, but he’s not especially clever. And he’s no student of human nature. If he was, he’d know by watching your videos—and I bet he has them all—you’re a force.”

“I’m a force.”

Absently, he stroked a hand down her hair. “You know you are because you’re a student of human nature. It’s why you’re good at what you do.”

As she stood fascinated, he scanned the park, and idly rubbed her back.

A gesture of comfort, of support.

“It’s why you moved back here after your grandmother died. My mom told me she didn’t think Dom would have lived another six months if you hadn’t. You knew that. You’re going to bring in those legging things—and probably the whole outfit deal—to Ms. Grimes because you know what that’ll mean to a young athlete, to her grandmother. Hell, you brought me those damn weights because you knew I wouldn’t bother.”

“But are you using them?” Brows lifted, she reached over to squeeze his biceps. They lifted higher in genuine surprise. “Yeah, you are.”

“Well, they keep sitting there.” He looked at her, into her eyes—that wonderful, unusual shade he needed to color. “He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t even know the Adrian Rizzo, not really, who’s on the DVDs.”

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse. Better,” she realized immediately. “I don’t want that son of a bitch to know me. Or bitch, because it could be a woman. Either way. You made me feel better, and I appreciate it. I’d have gone home, worried at it for a lot longer than this.”

“Making you feel better doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be careful.”

“I am. I have the big dog who goes everywhere with me. I make sure the doors are locked and the alarm’s set every night. And I’ve been taking self-defense, and tae kwon do online for nearly two months.”

“Really. You got moves?”

“Oh, I’ve got moves. What are you doing for dinner?” He blinked, made her laugh. “That wasn’t that kind of move! Come to dinner, bring the kids, Jasper. Popi’s bringing manicotti, and I’ll tell him to bring enough for company. He’d just love it. Do your kids like manicotti?”

“It involves pasta, sauce, cheese. So it goes without saying.”

“Come to dinner.”

“We could do that. The kids would love it, too.”

“Is six too late?”

“Six works fine.”

“Great. Come on, Sadie. I really do have to get back,” Adrian said, as her dog lifted her head from where it rested beside Jasper’s. “I’m supposed to be writing a blog. You’re supposed to be working.”

“We’ll get to it.”

He didn’t have to call to Jasper, as Jasper trotted right alongside Sadie like a dog who’d had his every wish fulfilled.

“If I bring a sketch pad tonight, could you do a couple moves? Flame kicks ass, so I could use her prototype demonstrating same.”

“I’m more warding off than kicking ass at this point. But I can give you a sample.”

He wasn’t convinced she couldn’t kick ass already, but decided if not, she would before much longer.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Dom enjoyed dinner with Raylan’s family so much, Adrian initiated a weekly dinner party with rotating guests. She kept the number small, the hour on the early side. Whatever her grandfather believed, she knew he tired more quickly than he once had.

Since most of his contemporary friends had passed or relocated to warmer climes, the guest lists skewed toward the younger side. That only seemed to energize him all the more.

So once a week, they planned out a menu, cooked, entertained as October swept into November with fires in the hearths and hearty stews.

With the fires and candles lit, with music—Dom’s favorite old standards mix—playing low, Dom and Phineas carried on a serious conversation about Oscar the Grouch.

“I say thank God not only for this fabulous meal,” Teesha murmured, “but for Dom’s inexhaustible patience. What four-year-old wants to discuss anger management for a Muppet?”

“Last week he was obsessed with molecules,” Monroe reminded her. “I’ll take psychoanalyzing Muppets.”

“Your mom’s coming down, right?” Adrian gestured with her wine. “To help with TBD? She’ll at least pretend to talk about Muppets.”

“Yeah.” Teesha stuck with water as she rubbed the mound of her belly. “Except, Monroe’s mother’s decided to come, too.”

“The Battle of the Grannies.” Shaking his head, Monroe spooned up more beef stew—Northern Italian style. “It’s going to be epic.”

“My mother planned to come down Monday, since I’m due in a week, to take care of Phineas while we’re busy bringing this one into the world.”

“We had my mother heading down when I texted her Teesha’s in labor. But she heard her competition would already be here, so she called to tell us she’s coming Monday, too.”

“Then my mother hears that, and decides she’s coming this weekend.”