Page 107 of Four Steps to the Perfect Fake Date

“For what?”

He leaned down to press a kiss to her shoulder, lips curving against her skin. “To run after you and drag you back here,” he said. “Obviously. Plan B was to run after you and move to Seattle together. Whatever you preferred, as long as I got to be with you.”

Spinning in his arms, Daphne worried that her ribs would break from the pounding they were taking from her heart. She slid her hands up his chest, feeling the prickle of his coarse chest hair through the thin fabric of his tee. “And the pot?”

“Grabbed it from the office on the way home. I figured the first thing to do before I followed you to wherever you were going was return it to its rightful owner.”

If she hadn’t loved him already, Daphne would’ve tumbled headlong in silly, besotted adoration at that confession. Her cheeks ached as she smiled wide, more tears spilling from her eyes. “This is a dream,” she said.

“I hope not,” he replied, touching his nose to hers. His hands swept down her sides and dove under her shirt, and they both sighed at the feel of his palms on the bare skin of her back. “I love you, Daphne. I think I loved you at eighteen, and it didn’t take me long to fall for you almost two decades later. I love your grit and your brain and your smile. I love how stubborn you are and how you light up at the promise of ice cream.”

Daphne laughed, choking on her happy tears.

“You make me feel like I have a home,” he told her. “You make me want a future together, when I’ve never dreamed beyond the nextcouple of weeks before. I love you so much I didn’t even know it was possible to feel this way, like my entire world revolves around someone else. Like I need to see you and kiss you and touch you just to survive. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m not alone.”

Breathing was difficult; speaking was impossible. The only words Daphne managed to squeeze out through the grip of her emotion were, “Kiss me.”

Calvin’s lips curled into a smile. “That I can do.”

It was close to midnight when they came up for air. Giddy and exhausted, Daphne slumped over Calvin’s chest as he trailed his fingers through her hair. She’d never been so comfortable in her life.

“Did you ever figure out who broke into Romano’s?” she asked, voice muffled against his skin.

Calvin hummed.

With a superhuman effort, Daphne lifted her head. “Is that a yes?”

His eyes sparked with barely hidden mirth. “It’s a yes.”

She rested her chin on her hands, his skin warm beneath her palms. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“You want to go for a drive?”

“Right now?”

His smile was irresistible; Daphne would follow this man anywhere. She rolled off him and pulled her clothes on, and ten minutes later, they were passing Romano’s dark windows and then turning down the alley that ran behind the restaurant.

Calvin stopped his truck a few feet from the dumpsters and leaned his forearms on top of the steering wheel.

Daphne stared at the alley, all harsh lighting and dark shadow. “I don’t follow.”

“Give it a minute,” Calvin said, eyes on the big steel container.

Sure enough, within moments, movement made Daphne lean forward. Two glowing eyes reflected the truck’s headlights a moment before an enormous raccoon clambered out of the dumpster and trotted away.

Daphne glanced at Calvin. Calvin arched his brows.

“A raccoon?” she asked, incredulous. “How? It’s way too small to reach the window.”

“There was an old mop on the ground when I came out here the night of the break-in,” Calvin explained. “I had a theory, and I tested it out last night by shoving a broomstick in the corner of the dumpster. It took about an hour for the raccoon to shuffle around enough to knock it over. I figure the garbage was at just the right level—pretty full of all the construction junk—and the mop was at just the right angle. The raccoon must have nudged it, and it smashed against the window to trip the alarm.”

Daphne let out an incredulous snort. “You’re sure?”

“There was nothing to steal. No one on any security cameras. No evidence of anyone actually getting inside, which they couldn’t have done from that window in the first place. No reason for Archie Jr. to break in here if he was trying to steal records to cover his tracks. This is the only thing that makes sense. And besides, there was a handprint that was too small to be a full-grown human’s, other than one belonging to a very tiny woman. Raccoons have opposable thumbs.”

“A raccoon,” Daphne repeated.

“I’ve let Animal Control know. They’ll trap her and move her out of town.”

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