Page 36 of Trick's Trap

“Oh God, it’s so good.” She licked her lips, snatching up a few hot fries.

Trick pushed the accompanying vanilla milkshake in front of her and backed away, pretending to fuss in the kitchen. He hadn’t known the fridge was stocked with an assortment of pre-made meals, else he would have popped one of those in the oven to warm up. Snacks filled the cupboards, along with a wide range of soft drinks and teas.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her eat. Thinking him distracted, she attacked the food, biting and chewing so fast he was worried she might choke.

A slow anger bubbled in his gut. He masked it with effort.Fuck. How long had it been since she eaten a good meal?

“It wasn’t that long,” Tahlia said before taking a sip of her shake.

“What?”

“You asked how long it’s been since I’d eaten.”

He grimaced. “I meant to keep that in my head, sorry.”

Tahlia shrugged. “I was working for a caterer at the end there. She did outreach and recruitment at a women’s shelter I was staying at. I got excellent leftovers.”

Leftovers, Christ.A woman like Tahlia deserved to be wined and dined at the best restaurants in the world, and she worked for scraps.

Not anymore. He was going to ply her with gourmet food until she regained the weight she’d lost living on the streets.

“Her name was Gina by the way. She’s trying to get on your list of preferred vendors.”

He blinked. “What?”

She inhaled a fry and frowned at her burger. “At the Caislean in Manhattan. She’s trying to get on your preferred—”

He cut her off with a wave. “Is that what you were doing there? Were you working catering an event atourhotel when I bumped into you in New York?”

Tahlia nodded, taking another big bite. She gestured to the center of the patty with a frown. “What is this?”

“Foie gras,” he answered absently. Inwardly, he was reeling.She had been working at one of their hotels.What were the chances? He didn’t know how to calculate the odds, although it was a good bet she could.

“It’s a small world,” he said distantly, rocking on his heels before frowning at her. “Do you want something else to eat? I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask if you liked goose liver. This kitchen is fully stocked. I can make you anything.”

“No! This is amazing. I was just surprised at the unexpected mushiness. But it’s a good mushy.”

His lips quirked, but he found it difficult to smile. “Can you tell me more about the time you were missing?”

He’d lost weeks of sleep wondering what happened to her after the memorial service.

Her eyes grew distant. “It’s not as bad as you think. Yes, there were scary moments and shitty people, but I met some nice ones, too. People in circumstances worse than mine. I got lucky one or two times.”

He huffed aloud. Lucky was not the word he would use. “When?”

Maia told them about her family and how her father had been dead when she woke up in Florida.

She held up a finger. “Meeting Gina was one stroke of luck. She helped me.”

Her eyes flared. “Oh no! I was supposed to meet her after the game. She doesn’t know what happened to me. But I don’t have a number for her—she never gave it to me because I don’t have a phone. She would just leave messages for me at the shelter.”

He picked up his phone. “Don’t worry. I’ll find her. If she catered an event for us, then my office will have her number.”

Checking the time, he decided midnight wasn’t too late, not for this. “Keep eating,” he ordered.

Tahlia obeyed, her eyes tracking him as he dialed the manager at their Manhattan hotel. Satisfied she was going to finish everything and then some, he pulled out a half pint of vanilla bean ice cream from the freezer and set it in front of her to thaw.

“Kemper,” he greeted the manager when he answered. “I need you to put me through to a vendor.”

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