Page 22 of Seaside Cowboy's Fairy Tale

Huh. Jennifer had mentioned that the police had interviewed her and the security team and the waitstaff she’d hired to see whether they could recognize the person on a sketch as one of the guests. She’d pointed them to the three people who could vaguely match the portrait, and Fred Sersen wasn’t one of them.

The waitress showed up to collect their menus and orders. But he hadn’t even looked at his. He didn’t doubt he could chew cardboard and consider it fine if it was while talking to her. Especially in this charming spot surrounded by quirky blue tables, white benches, and white umbrellas and overlooking a stunning marina and pier.

“I’ll have the Carolina crab cakes with pickled corn relish, roasted red pepper sauce, and fried onions, please. And chilled blue crab dip with crackers.” Cinderella handed back the menu. She must’ve been here before. He’d wondered, finding it odd that she picked a restaurant in his hometown. “For the sides, I’d like a tomato and cucumber salad and french fries.”

“Got it. And for you, sir?” The redheaded waitress in her pink uniform with a white apron turned to him. “Or would you like more time?”

He considered his time valuable, and so was other people’s. He’d never waste their time. So he smiled at her as he returned his menu, as well. “That sounds good. I’ll take the same, please. Thank you very much.”

Cinderella’s lips curved up, giving him the strange feeling he’d passed some kind of test.

Once the waitress left, he shifted forward, his entire attention on Cinderella again. He wanted to ask her so many things, but he started with the reason for a tiny line between her eyebrows.

“You look preoccupied. May I ask what it is and whether I can help?” He worded the question carefully and injected softness in his voice because she didn’t seem like the type to ask for help.

“Work stuff.” She sighed. “And, well, Button ran away.”

“Button?”

“My littlest pet mouse—just a button, really.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You were serious about having pet mice?”

“Oh, absolutely. I travel a lot for work, so I wanted low-maintenance pets.”

He’d never wanted to meet mice until now. “I’ll be glad to help you look for the mouse.”

Jennifer would faint if he told her that.

“Thanks. But no thanks.” Cinderella shook her head.

Fair enough. He suppressed a jolt of disappointment, then understood how his suggestion sounded. “Um, I didn’t mean to try to invite myself to your place. I’m truly invested in the fate of that runaway mouse. There are a lot of cats out there.”

Her smile turned sad. “Sometimes even panthers. You mentioned there’s news about the stolen necklace?” With such obvious interest in her voice, she cared about her question, and it wasn’t an idle one.

How could he trust her? The answer was he couldn’t.

The waitress brought the tray with their food then, and it emanated the aroma of fries and freshly baked biscuits.

“Thank you very much,” he and Cinderella said in unison.

A soft smile touched her lips, and his gaze lingered on them again longer than it should have. Yes, he was thinking of kissing her, and his blood rushed faster. Her face was makeup-free, which was refreshing. The women he’d met in the corporate world so far had impeccably made-up faces. Artificial nails and eyelashes, as well. Today, her nails were cut short and without a trace of polish, and everything about her seemed fresh and real.

She was so different from everyone else, even from the impression she made at the charity ball. That piqued his curiosity even more. But then, he could probably know her a hundred years and still not figure her out. He took a bite of his crab cake followed by fries.

“How do you like it?” She forked at her own dish.

“It’s the best. So is the company.” He meant every word. “Or maybe it’s the bestbecauseof the company.”

Instead of brightening like he’d expected them to, her eyes dimmed. Why? She drank some of her tea, ice cubes clanking in the glass. “You don’t have to be all suave and charming with me. No need for compliments.”

Did she think he kept wearing the mask, even after the masquerade? But then, he’d known plenty of people like that, so he couldn’t blame her. “I meant it. I enjoy your company and don’t intend to hide it. Don’t see why I should.”

Her expression softened as she munched on her biscuit, then forked up a tomato. “Then I appreciate it. And I enjoy your company, too.”

Her words pleased him more than they should have. His pulse spiked, and he nearly reached across the blue table to touch her hand. Instead, his fingers tightened around the cold smooth surface of his raspberry tea glass. “Besides, it’s nice to relax and simply enjoy the food without worrying about closing a deal or impressing investors. As for meals, my assistant orders in while I work. Most of the time I don’t even remember what I ate because my mind is on something else.”

“Do you enjoy that kind of life?” She studied him over the rim of her glass.

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