Page 116 of Call Back

Someday people would stop answering the phone asking if I was okay. “No, not really, but before you freak out, it’s not what you think. It’s Belinda. She’s so angry with me.”

Colt groaned. “Maggie, I love you, but I’m not getting dragged into a girl fight.”

I tried to ignore the shock his words sent through me. He hadn’t meant it like that anyway; it was just something people said. So why had it sent a bolt of warmth through my chest?

Focus.

“It’s more than that, Colt. I have to talk to you. It’s important.”

“Give me half an hour. I’m not home.”

“That means nothing to me,” I said. “I don’t even know where you live.”

“Never you mind about that,” he said, sounding more alert. “Let’s meet for breakfast. How about—”

“Not in Franklin. Let’s meet up in Nashville.”

“Okay.” That caught him by surprise. “Uh . . . How about the Frothy Monkey? I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes.” Then he hung up.

I considered calling Brady to tell him where I was going, but I knew he’d never approve of my outing. I considered asking him to not use the information I’d given him. But there was no way he could ignore it, and I didn’t even want him to. If he could stop Bill James from killing more people, it was worth losing Belinda, even if it ripped my heart to shreds.

I figured there was little chance I’d been followed. I’d stayed at Belinda’s, something totally out of character for me, and then taken an Uber to a place I would normally never leave my car. But I found myself glancing in the rearview mirror every few seconds for any suspicious cars.

* * *

Colt was waitingfor me when I walked into the crowded restaurant. He was already at a table, his hand cradling a cup of coffee.

His eyes lit up when he saw me. “Maggie, it looks like you got some sleep last night. The bags under your eyes aren’t as big as they were yesterday.”

I gasped in horror and reached for the small mirror in my purse.

He laughed. “I’m teasing. Believe it or not, it’s good to know there’s still a little vanity left in there.”

I shoved the mirror back in my purse. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he said, his voice smooth as silk and honey. “I’m just trying to take your mind off your troubles.”

“I think I’d need to be in a coma for that to happen.” I took the coffee mug from his hand and took a sip.

He laughed. “Yes, Magnolia, you can have a drink of my coffee.”

The waiter came over and Colt flagged him down. “We’re ready to order.”

“I haven’t looked at the menu yet,” I protested.

“Trust me,” Colt said, then ordered another cup of coffee and a water, a Farm Breakfast with bacon, and an omelet with ham, swiss cheese, avocado, and spinach.

When the waiter walked away, I asked, “Which one is for me?”

“The omelet, of course,” he said, snatching back his coffee. He turned sideways to look out the window. “But when it gets here, if you want mine, we can switch.”

“How did you know I’d order an omelet that way?”

He turned back to face me. “It’s what you always get. I probably know you better than you think.”

We locked gazes for several seconds, long enough for me to feel something shift between us.

It startled me when a cup of coffee entered my field of vision, breaking our stare. “Here you go,” the waiter said in a cheery voice as he set the cup and a coffee carafe on the table. “Your breakfast will be right out.”

---