I give Ellen a hug and a gentle pat on the back. “That’s never a secret a child should keep.”

Chapter Eight

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RAE LEE

My thumb hovers over the decline button. I want to send Anson Ames to voicemail for ignoring me. But I also can’t stop thinking about if he’s gotten a break in Pearl’s case. Or, if I’m honest, the night we spent together.

“If it’s important, take it.” Paisley notices my hesitation.

“Thanks,” I say, appreciating her understanding. My next breath is an airy “hello” that boldly contradicts having no desire to be at his beck and whim.

“Rae Lee.” He gets down to business. “Anson Ames. You wouldn’t have a few minutes to go over your investigation again, would you?”

“I’m sorry. I’m delivering some products at Paisley’s Boutique downtown.”

“How long will you be?”

“Another half hour or so. I can call you back when I’m finished.”

“How about I meet you outside the shop in forty-five? I’d like to talk in person. I’ll even throw in dinner.”

I peer down at the breezy pattern on my flowing skirt, the solid V-neck tee. I’ve paired the outfit with cute wedge sandals with the braided thong and silver charm that I purchased on clearance at the upscale shop. Luckily, I specifically chose something a notch above yoga pants and a hoodie to come in and drop off my wares. So I agree to meet Anson underneath the awning outside when I’m finished.

A half an hour passes, and Anson is already pacing the sidewalk. He concentrates on his phone screen. The jeans he’s wearing fit him like a glove, and the dark button-up stretches over his broad back the way his polo had when we met.

“Oh, is that him?” Layla sidles up behind me. “He’s divine.”

Staying to chat with my friend, I finger the lush fabric of some clothes on the center racks. I’m pretending I’m engaged in entrepreneurial activities, when in reality Layla’s giving me a you-go-girl pep talk. She says I can handle whatever Hottie McCop dishes out this evening, though beneath my skirt my knees are knocking.

I rarely care about a man’s opinion. So needing him to respect my gift and… well, me, because we have been intimate… is unusual.

A tinkling bell alerts Anson that I’m leaving the shop.

“Hey. Hi,” he greets me, stuffing his phone in his jeans. “Up for Mark-39? My boss told me they have a new beer on draft.”

“That’s fine.”

The pub is just up the street. Their pulled pork is a barbecue lover’s dream, and they have every imaginable topping on the menu to build your own loaded fries.

On the way inside the restaurant, I show Anson a picture of a B-52 in flight. “I went to high school here and didn’t realize that North Carolina had a nuclear mishap in the 1960s until this place opened. They still haven’t found the bomb.” My jaw drops, still incredulous. How do you lose an H-bomb? I’m glad they found the second one that the plane dropped as it broke up.

“A kid I get takeout for from here for told me that story. Are you a history buff?” he asks.

“Not at all.” If I were, I would have paid closer attention. Some teacher must’ve mentioned it in class.

“What were you doing at Paisley’s?” Anson asks after we’re seated.

“Am I here for you to interrogate me, detective?”

“Making conversation.” He shoots me a wide, toothy grin. “Our previous meal together wasn’t a get-to-know-you, and we didn’t talk much at Sweet Caroline’s.”

Heat creeps at my neck. The only things Anson said to me in between were dirty. I think about what he and I did constantly.

“I create one-of-a-kind jewelry.” I roll my eyes and shake my head, shaking it off. “My landlord works for Paisley and showed her my website. Paisley decided to stock some of the wrapped crystals and gemstone necklaces.” I hold the oblong sunstone around my neck up. “The store was out of stock on concentration bracelets—they’re made of stones that sort of ground you. Some people use them as prayer beads. Others just like the way they look. I’d also gotten a request from her for more sunstone and wanted to balance that out by offering Paisley some moonstone before posting those online.”

“This is what you do for a living?”