Page 56 of Four Steps to the Perfect Fake Date

“We’ll get you a report so you can make a claim.”

“Thanks,” the older man said as he surveyed the mess. His wedding ring glinted as he ran his fingers through his thick hair, barrel chest rising and falling with a deep sigh.

Would this man have broken into Romano’s and then staged this break-in to cover his tracks? Calvin didn’t think so, but it was something to keep in mind. Jerry Barela seemed like a straight shooter. He had a reputation for getting jobs done on time and on budget. He wasn’t cheap, but his business had lasted decades on the island through all kinds of economic cycles. Staging some kind of elaborate break-in at two locations didn’t seem like something he’d do.

Unless he’d been spooked by Calvin and Daphne’s first visit for some reason.

“You hear about the break-in at Romano’s?” Calvin probed.

The man grunted as he moved to his desk and dropped into his chair. “I’m heading over there as soon as we’re done here to check if all our tools are still there.”

“You think someone might have been targeting you?”

“Unless they wanted to haul out one of those twenty-thousand-dollar ovens, I don’t see what else there is to steal in that place, other than our gear. We’ve had tools and supplies go missing from jobsites many times over the years. And these days, with the cost of everything increasing, people get desperate.”

“Thanks, Jerry.” Calvin nodded, then went to see Teri. It would be a long night, and he wasn’t any closer to answering any of his questions.

Most of all, though, he wanted to go home to Daphne. A ridiculous thought, since he wasn’t going home to her at all. She just happened to be staying with him because he’d bullied her into it. Still, the thought of waking up in the morning and seeing that sleepy look on her face drove him on through the long, cold, rainy night.

Chapter 20

Daphne’s ankle felt better when she woke up. And, as much as she hated to admit it, Flint’s guest bed was much more comfortable than the one in her apartment. She’d slept like a dream. She hobbled out to the kitchen, where she found the sheriff sitting at the table, sipping coffee. A plate with a few crumbs was beside him.

The kitchen was as clean as the rest of his place. She hadn’t been surprised, exactly, when she’d put their leftovers away the night before. His uniform was always pressed, his jaw clean shaven, and his hair cut short and neat. Why would his house be any different?

Still, being in his space had felt like a narrow glimpse inside the man. She appreciated that he was tidy. It felt like something they had in common—an appreciation for order, for organization.

He looked up when she entered, his gaze dropping to her foot. “Morning,” he said. “How’s the ankle?”

“Better. Any coffee left?”

He pulled out a chair for her and got her a mug. “Toast?”

“Sure,” she said, and watched him drop a slice in the toaster.

Turned out Calvin Flint could be a gentleman when he really wanted to be, which also wasn’t a huge surprise if she forgot everything that she knew about him from high school. Daphne thanked him and took a sip before asking him about his night.

He gave her the rundown of what he’d seen, including the fact that there might have been a connection between the two incidents.

“So do you think the break-ins have something to do with us asking him questions?” Daphne frowned at the photos Flint showed her on his phone.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “But it’s strange.”

He checked his watch and got up to get ready for the day. Daphne watched him put his mug and plate in the dishwasher before putting the toaster in the cupboard below and spraying the countertops with cleaner. He moved efficiently, like he’d done the same tasks a thousand times. He walked out of the kitchen a moment later. She looked at the gleaming countertops and wondered why the sight of him taking care of his home seemed so significant.

Was it because Pete had been a bit of a slob, and the thousands of little tasks required to take care of a home had fallen to her? Her ex-fiancé wouldn’t have even noticed crumbs on the counter. If he did, he might have brushed them onto the floor. A spray bottle would never have touched his hand. And he would have scoffed at the idea of putting a toaster away and out of sight. After all, he rolled his eyes whenever she insisted on making the bed. “You’re just going to mess it up again tonight,” he’d complain, which was true but also completely beside the point.

Watching a man clean his space without a second thought was something Daphne enjoyed, she realized. She enjoyed it a lot.

The doorbell rang, and Daphne hopped her way down the hall to open the door. Ellie stood on the other side with a small duffel bag full of Daphne’s things. Daphne had texted her sister the night before to ask her to run some clothes down to Flint’s place.

Daphne smiled. “Hey,” she said. “Thanks for bringing my things.”

“Course,” Ellie said. “Your apartment is super depressing, though.”

Daphne rolled her eyes and led Ellie to the kitchen. Ellie looked around, her eyes filled with delight as she handed the bag off to Daphne, who scowled at her.

“This is nice and cozy,” Ellie noted quietly, peeking around the corner as if to catch a glimpse of Flint down the hall.

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