Page 12 of A Dark and Stormy Night

She would tell Mason. Mason would know what to do.

She walked across the square and to the driver’s side as he was getting out of the car. “I’m here,” she said.

At her unexpected appearance, he jumped in surprise and looked toward city hall. “Where were you? What were you doing?”

She walked around to the passenger side and waited.

As always, he first kissed her on the cheek, then opened her door.

She slid into the car and, as always, watched him walk around the hood.

As always, he was a very handsome man. Tall, broad-shouldered, with black, wavy hair and dark blue eyes. She particularly admired his chin, which appeared to be chiseled from stone. It had a dimple in middle, which softened the effect.

He got in, put the car in gear and headed toward their home on the outskirts of Virtue Falls. “So — what’s up? Why did you change your routine?”

“I just had a very odd experience.”

“Why don’t you tell me over dinner?” He smiled rather tightly. “I would like to have some interesting conversation over dinner.”

Because of the day’s events, she felt moved to examine his comment with more intensity than she would normally. “Am I not a stimulating conversationalist over dinner? I am sorry. I will endeavor to do better.”

He glanced at her in seeming alarm. “It’s not that. We … um, it’s okay. We talk enough.”

She nodded. “Tonight I will offer up more than that usual report on my work, I promise.”

“Okay. I can’t wait.” He drove into the driveway, activated the garage door opener, pulled in and shut the garage behind them. “I’ve made a great meal tonight.”

Cornelia's stomach growled. “Excellent. I have an appetite.”

Mason hurried around and took her backpack. “That’s one of the charming things about you. You enjoy your food. A lot.”

They entered through the kitchen.

She smelled garlic and rosemary.

“You go get ready.” He put a large pat of butter in a skillet, placed it on the stove, and turned the burner on high. He got out another skillet and did the same thing on a different burner. “I’ll finish up in here.”

She went into their bedroom, put her electronic equipment away, went to the bathroom, washed her hands for the appropriate amount of time, and returned to the dining room. She sat at her place at their square table and listened as Mason rattled the pans. She didn’t know what she wanted most: the food or the chance to explain what had happened and ask to do.

He came in, smiling tensely, holding a plate with a potholder. With a flourish, he placed it in front of her. “Be careful. The plate is hot.”

He went back to the kitchen and got his plate. He seated himself.

She picked up her knife and fork, and looked down at her meal.

“Tonight we’re going to enjoy ourselves,” he said. “T-bone steak, mushrooms and rosemary garlic potatoes.”

Cornelia stared at the food. Stared, then lifted her gaze and stared at Mason.

Mason. Handsome, pleasant, shallow, vapid, lazy, easily influenced. She knew all those things. She also knew he liked her. Maybe loved her.

So … what was the probability he loved some other woman, too?

Unfortunately, in the circumstances, the probability was high.

She reached for her water glass, hit it with the back of her hand, and knocked it over.

Mason made a grab for it.

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