Page 63 of Evidence of Truth

He stared at her for a moment.

“Well, then, let’s blow this joint,” he said.

Anne’s eyes got wide, and she started to stand. Killian was speechless.

He put his hands out to have her sit. “Anne, I was kidding. Honest.”

She sat down and smirked. “I know you were kidding. I’m just teasing you. No way am I leaving here without eating Dover sole.” She started giggling. Killian shook his head and started laughing with her. The evening was fun, and he finally relaxed.

The server came to take their order. After he left, Anne stared out the window. “This is such an incredible view.”

Killian nodded. He wanted to talk about the man he saw her with the other day and if she was satisfied being with him. Dinner wasn’t the perfect time to discuss it, but there was no good time.

“Anne, the other day when I was driving past the school, I saw you walk out with a guy. Was everything okay?” Innocuous enough, right?

“The other day?” She frowned. “Oh, that was Martin Smith, the new janitor. He saw me and asked if I had any more trouble with some potholes. The morning when it rained, Silas and I stepped in about three of them, and I asked him if he could temporarily fill them in.”

Okay, one mystery solved. “I was providing security for an art gallery. You wouldn’t believe how much the artist got for squiggles and lines. There’s a gallery downstairs that I thought we could look at later. If you’d like.”

“That would be fun.” Anne took a sip of water, then bit her lip. “Killian, is something going on? Are you unhappy with me?”

Shit. Anne was taking this all wrong. Killian closed and opened his eyes. Why did he ever start this conversation? Crap, what was that saying? In for a penny, in for a pound.

He looked down at the table and sighed. When he looked at Anne, she rubbed her necklace, a sure sign of distress.

“No. Never.” Killian swallowed hard. “It’s just that when I was at the art gallery, I hated all the art there. It made no sense to me. Then I realized we’d never visited a gallery and that I’d never taken you out to a really nice restaurant. And while I was thinking about those things, I wondered if my lack of education bothered you.”

Anne took a deep breath. “If that’s what you think of me, you must think me really shallow.”

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “This is not about you. You’re perfect. I just saw that guy with you and thought the two of you were probably discussing things I know nothing about. I never went to college.”

“Hmmm.” Anne sat back in her chair. “Killian, just because I went to college doesn’t mean I know more than you. I might know different things, but I don’t know about the service, how to shoot, hurt someone or kill with my pinky. I don’t know the first thing about providing security. You’re smart in ways that I’m not. If education mattered, my mom would never have married my dad.”

She took a sip of wine. “He’s an electrician, works with his hands and is the smartest man I know. My sister would never have married my brother-in-law, who’s a salesman. He only went to community college. But he’s smart, kind and loves my sister and his kids. My parents always emphasized it’s not what you do but who you are inside. That’s what matters to me.”

She leaned forward and took his hands. “I trust you. I respect you, and so do the people around you. It’s our moral compass that is important.” She looked around the restaurant. “It’s not fancy restaurants or expensive jewelry or crazy art; it’s who you are down deep, how you treat others.”

Anne let go of his hands. “Do you understand that?”

“I do,” he replied. “Although I’m not sure I can kill someone with my pinky.” He winked. “Never tried.”

Then he cocked his head and smiled. “I understand I’m the luckiest man in the world, and I’m going to rock your world later—right after the art gallery.”

Anne started laughing. “You’re bound and determined to go there, aren’t you? Do you like being a martyr?”

“Hey, someone has to be.”

The first course was placed in front of them, and Anne was enjoying the bisque a little too much. Killian thought if she said, “oh my,” one more time, his cock would explode. Of course, she had to lick her lips, which made everything harder.

She scooped some bisque on her spoon and held it out for him to try—creamy, briny and delicious! Why had he never tried it before?

He speared a plump pink shrimp, dipped it in cocktail sauce and passed it over to her. She slowly put it in her mouth. “Mmmm.”

Tease.

He glared at her. “Later,” he mocked, threatened.

“I hope so,” she responded.

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