Beth Cornelison - Colton 911 - Deadly Texas Reunion

“Patrice,” Summer whispered to the wind, “I promise to do everything in my power to find out who did this to you. If there is justice in this world, I will bring your killer in.”

With her vow carrying to the heavens on the autumn breeze, Summer packed up her notes and headed back to town to begin fulfilling her promise.

Summer’s mind whirled as she planned her next step in her investigation. Who should she talk to first? How should she proceed so that she didn’t burn bridges with the police department? What need for perspective had brought Nolan back to Whisperwood after all these years?

She shook her head. Letting Nolan distract her was no way to keep her word to Patrice or solve her first real case. She tucked her notepad under her arm as she fished the keys to her Volkswagen Beetle out of her purse and unlocked her car.

The clank of a metal door opening and the sound of voices drew her attention to the front entrance of Lone Star Pharma. Bellamy Colton, her belly swollen with eight months of pregnancy, held the door as Nolan struggled out the door with a pile of large boxes, stacked so high Summer wasn’t sure how he could see where he was walking. Bellamy led him to a car parked in the employee lot and popped the trunk.

Discarding her purse and notepad on her passenger seat, Summer headed toward them to see if she could lend a hand.

“Need any help?” she called, and Bellamy flashed her a broad grin of greeting.

“Thanks, Summer, but I think Nolan’s got it.”

Summer rushed forward as the top item slid from its perch. She caught the tumbling package and grabbed the next box from the teetering stack, as well. “Are you sure about that?”

Nolan shot her an embarrassed grin. “Thanks. That was close.”

Summer read the label on the pillow-like gift zipped in clear plastic packaging. “Boppy?”

Bellamy’s face glowed. “I know! I’m so excited. I hear they’re a must, and I hadn’t gotten one before now.”

Summer exchanged a curious look with Nolan as he loaded the gifts into Bellamy’s trunk, and she mouthed, What’s a Boppy?

He shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I’m just the pack mule.”

Bellamy swatted at his arm. “Oh, hush. It’s not as bad as that. One more trip to get the swing, and we’ll be done.”

Summer added the packages she’d caught to the nooks in Bellamy’s car and faced Nolan as he closed the trunk. “I was just finishing up my business here and thought I could buy you that cup of coffee I owe you now.”

“Now?” He dusted grime from the car off his hands and arched one eyebrow.

“I didn’t want to give you the chance to slip out of town and disappear before I could grill you about your mysterious absence from our lives.”

He scoffed and gaped at her. “I disappeared? You’re one to talk, Ms. No Social Media Presence.”

She cocked her head, blinking. “Huh? I have social media accounts. What are you—”

Bellamy cleared her throat. “Um, I hate to interrupt this lovers’ quarrel, but—”

Both Summer and Nolan jerked their heads toward Bellamy, chiming together, “We’re not—!” and “What! No!”

Bellamy’s grin reflected her skepticism. “Whatever…but my feet are killing me. If you don’t mind grabbing that swing, Nolan? My lunch break is almost over, and I need to prop my feet up.”

“Right.” Nolan aimed a finger at Bellamy. “Lead the way. I’m right behind you.” Then pointing at Summer, he added, “Yes. Now’s good. But let’s make it lunch at the Bluebell Diner. This pack mule is getting hungry.”

Summer’s mood lifted, and butterfly wings flapped in her chest. “Deal.”

As he followed the waddling Bellamy back inside, Nolan motioned to the place Summer was standing. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”

With a smirk, she saluted him. “Aye, aye, captain. I’ll be right here.”

Nolan returned five minutes later, lugging a large cardboard box. Summer eyed the box then the back seat of Bellamy’s car. “Um, captain? I don’t think there’s room in the hold for that cargo.”

“Not in that ship,” he said, nodding to Bellamy’s sedan. “I told her I’d put it in my car. This way. I’ll drive to lunch.”

Summer pursed her lips, and memories of days spent rambling and relaxing on the Colton Ranch came back to her. Specifically how bossy Nolan could be. Apparently, that hadn’t changed. But she had. She was her own boss now, and she’d learned the hard way not to give any man control of her life.

Nolan started across the pavement, and when she didn’t follow, he glanced back. “Coming?”

“Yeah.” She fell in step next to him and dug her keys out of her pocket. “But I’ll drive my own car to lunch. That way we don’t have to double back here to pick it up.”

He stopped at a dark blue Jeep Cherokee, where he opened the tailgate and slid the baby swing box in the back. “Suit yourself. If you beat me there, go ahead and get us a table.”

She chuckled lightly. “Bossy as ever, I see.”

He frowned. “Bossy? I only said—” He growled under his breath. “Whatever. Can I walk you to your car?”

“Thanks, but I’m just there.” She pointed three spaces over to her yellow VW Beetle. “Meet ya in five.”

Nolan gave her a wink and a nod that stirred a fresh wave of giddy bubbles in her veins. She trotted to her car, energized and more optimistic than she’d been in months. But as she backed her Beetle out of her parking spot, a niggling warning tickled her brain. As kids, she’d blown off Nolan’s autocratic dictates or complied happily enough. He was a year older, a boy, and usually had good ideas that she accepted at face value. Good enough reasons for a nine-or ten-year-old kid to be a follower. No big deal. But eight years later, going along, appeasement and blind acceptance with Robby had gotten her tangled in a dangerous and detrimental relationship that she still had nightmares about.

A cloud of doubt drifted in to cast her good mood in shadow. Summer squeezed the steering wheel and pulled onto the state road leading toward downtown Whisperwood. Nolan might be handsome as the devil and someone who’d graced her childhood with adventure and laughter, but she needed to proceed with caution. Clearly he was still a take-charge kind of guy. She couldn’t let her golden memories of Nolan, her fondness for their old friendship color this new iteration of their relationship. She needed to stand firm and set the parameters, or she could too easily repeat mistakes she had yet to live down.

When she arrived at the Bluebell Diner, a popular place for locals to eat their fill of home-style Southern cooking and Tex-Mex favorites, Nolan was already ensconced in a booth at the back of the restaurant near the door to the kitchen. He sat with his back to the wall, watching the door, and lifted his chin in acknowledgment as she entered the bustling diner.

She greeted the older couple that ran the mercantile across the street from her office and Madeline Klein, for whom she’d handled a case last month, as she wended her way through the tables toward Nolan. The first thing she noticed as she reached their table was that he’d changed T-shirts. He’d replaced the coffee-soiled one with a simple heather-gray one that read FBI over the breast.

He stood as she approached, waiting for her to sit before resuming his seat. He still has cowboy manners , she thought, smiling, flattered, while another part of her brain chafed. Did his old-fashioned manners translate to old-fashioned opinions about women?