“They’re surprisingly tasty.”

“That’s a terrible, horrible lie.” He had to boost the reluctant Jasper into the car. “Unworthy of you.”

“An acquired tasty, maybe.”

He shook his head. “Just for that, I’m eating a bag of Cheetos after the kids are in bed. Text me.”

She would, she thought as she walked over to gather the dishes from the porch table.

She’d lock up, check, set the alarm.

And she’d sleep easier, she knew, because he’d come to her and said what she’d needed to hear.

She filled the rest of her week—enough it threatened to overflow. Besides her own work, which included a view of Hector’s first edit of Fitness 101, she had a long FaceTime conversation with her mother.

That included the expected lecture, some debate—and give-and-take—on the editing.

She began the serious shopping for lighting, plumbing fixtures, paint, gaming systems for the center. Even with Kayla’s considerable help, she took a private vow to never, ever do an extensive rehab again in her lifetime.

It kept her mind fully occupied with normal until Rachael contacted her on Friday afternoon.

She’d located three more women. One had apparently died of natural causes after a long battle with cancer. One had been found, beaten, robbed, in an alley in New Orleans where she managed a bar. The other had been shot in the back of the head in her car after leaving the motel room where she’d left the man she’d had an extramarital affair with.

The police in Erie, Pennsylvania, had looked long and hard at the husband, but his alibi had held strong.

Four now, she thought, at least four.

She glanced at the time. Raylan would be there soon, and that was good. He’d fill her head, and let her empty out what she’d just learned.

She didn’t know what he intended to pick up for dinner, but whatever it might be, they could eat on the porch, in the air. Since it had rained all morning, everything smelled fresh and clean.

She’d decide what dishes to use when she saw what they’d be eating. Same with wine.

With little to do, she changed—a dress, simple, springy, fun, and feminine. She scooped her hair back into a low tail at her nape and let curls escape.

Leaving her feet bare, she did a quick turn in the mirror, and deemed it pretty perfect for a casual—hopefully romantic—alfresco dinner at home.

She heard Sadie’s woof before she heard the car, but walked out to the second-story porch to see Raylan driving up.

And he saw her. Hell of a picture, he thought, the woman in the flowing dress at the rail of the high porch with the huge dog at her side and flowers spilling out of pots around her.

She’d be his all evening, all night. It seemed incredible to know it.

“What’s for dinner?”

“Come on down and find out.”

She hurried down, as she’d—following orders—locked the doors. When she opened the front door, Jasper darted in so he and Sadie could begin their joyful and energetic reunion.

“Do you think they’ll ever just go like: Hey, good to see you?” Adrian wondered.

“No.”

“I’ll follow their lead.” She threw her arms around Raylan, kissed him until his eyes all but rolled back.

“Dogs are definitely my best friend. You look amazing.”

“I decided to celebrate the return of the sun by putting on a dress. I hardly ever. And that doesn’t look like a carry-out bag.”

“Because it isn’t. I’m going to fire up the grill and cook you a steak.”

“A steak?”

“Anybody who drinks kale smoothies needs the occasional shot of red meat.”

“Do you know how much iron’s in kale?”

“No, and I don’t much care.” He set the bag on the counter, pulled out the steaks, then two enormous potatoes. “And what’s a steak without a potato football?”

“Each one of those is a meal for a family of four.” She picked one up, tested the weight. “But I could do something interesting with these.”

As if in defense, he grabbed the second one. “Does it involve kale?”

“It does not. It involves butter, herbs, spices, and the grill.”

“Then you’re on potato duty.” He took out a bag of salad mix. “There will be no judgment here.”

“I’ll reserve judgment if we can punch up your bag o’ salad with a few items I have on hand.”

“So it will be done. I’ve got experience in that area. You can trust me.” He handed her the second potato. “I’m going to leave these in your capable hands and start the grill.”

When he came back in, she stood at the counter wrapping the potatoes in foil.

“Your yard’s rocking it. We planted some stuff. The flowers are looking good, and the vegetables are okay. But they’re not rocking it like yours.”

“Do you compost?”

“I keep meaning to.”

“Stop meaning to and do.” She emphasized with two firm taps to his chest. “Help save the planet, make it, use it, and your garden can also rock it.” She handed him the potatoes. “You should put these on, as they may take a week or two given their size. I’m going to open a nice bottle of red. Then we can sit on the back porch, look at my rocking garden. I have a progress report from Rachael. I’d like to tell you about it so we can shut it off and not talk or think about it for the rest of the evening.”

“Okay.” He leaned forward, kissed her forehead. “We’re going to make it all right.”

That, she thought, was the daddy in him. The comfort, reassurance. She didn’t think she had daddy issues—her grandfather had filled that role in every way. And she’d had Harry.

But she found that aspect of Raylan very appealing.

He came back in, put the steaks and the salad mix in her fridge, picked up the open bottle of wine. “Let’s go sit.”

She brought out a little bowl of olives, a little bowl of almonds. If the daddy gene was part of him, the feed the soul was part of her.

She took a breath as he poured the wine. “You’re right about the yard. I always enjoyed helping with the gardening, being out here with my grandparents, even as a kid. Now that I’m doing it alone, I still enjoy it.”

“I used to bitch and moan about the weeding and the work. Now, once the novelty wears off, I’ll be the one listening to Bradley and Mariah bitch and moan.”

“And one day they’ll remember gardening with you, and plant their own.”

“I like to think so.” He shifted in his chair, looked in her eyes. “Tell me.”

“Rachael found three more women on the list. Dead. One is pretty clearly natural causes. She lost a battle with bone cancer. But the other two.”

“Not natural.”

Adrian shook her head. “Not natural. A woman beaten to death in the alley behind the bar she owned in New Orleans. Whoever killed her took her watch, her purse.”

“To make it look like a theft, like a mugging.”

“Yeah. The other was out in Erie, Pennsylvania. She was in her car, parked. Shot in the back of the head by someone in the back seat. That was the determination. She’d been in a motel with someone not her husband.”