Beth Cornelison - Colton 911 - Deadly Texas Reunion

Shoving aside the itchy question, she slid into the booth and nodded toward his chest. “Where’d you get an FBI shirt?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “My gym bag was in the back seat.”

She snorted. “I mean, how’d you come to own it?” She raised the ice water already at her spot for a sip.

He waved his fingers in casual dismissal. “Standard issue in the Bureau.”

Summer choked on the water and set it down, sputtering, “Wait, wh-what?”

He handed her a napkin as she coughed. “Standard issue. They may have given it to me for a Bureau event. I don’t remember for sure.”

She clutched the paper napkin in her hand and gaped at him. “You’re in the FBI?”

He scowled and grumbled, “A little louder, huh? I don’t think they heard out on the street.”

Nolan cut a glance to the table next to them, where a middle-aged woman with two small children sat. The woman gave him a curious glance, and Nolan flashed an awkward smile and smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from the blue gingham tablecloth.

“Yes,” he said in a hushed tone as he handed her a plastic-protected menu from the stack behind the napkin holder. “I am.”

Summer flopped back against the booth and stared at him, her mouth gaping. “Get. Out. Of. Town! Nolan!”

He shifted on his bench, and his hand fisted on the table. “Well, technically I still am, but…” He exhaled heavily and sent her a dark look. “The real reason I’m in town is I’ve been put on administrative leave.”

Their waitress arrived, placing napkin-wrapped cutlery at each of their places. “Y’all had a chance to look at the menu?”

Nolan picked up a menu. “Sorry, no. We need another minute.”

“Take your time, but the pumpkin spice cake is going fast. If you want any, you better order it now.”

“Hmm, that does sound good. Save us two slices,” Nolan said, giving the woman a lopsided grin.

Pumpkin spice cake did sound great, but Nolan’s high-handedness in ordering for her irked her. “Two slices? You are hungry, aren’t you, G-man?”

He peered over the top of his menu. “You don’t want cake? You used to love dessert.”

“What kid doesn’t? What I want is to order for myself.” She softened the scolding with a playful scowl. Leaning forward, she flattened her hands on the tabletop. “Now tell me about this FBI thing. How did that happen? When? What department are you in? Jeez, the FB freaking I ?”

He cleared his throat, dropped his gaze to the menu again and said, “I was training for the Fort Worth Police Department when I saw an article that said the FBI was recruiting. So I applied, got accepted and have been in the Bureau for the last six years.”

A look of consternation crossed his face, and she recalled his comment about administrative leave. “And you’re here in Whisperwood rather than on the job because…”

He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, tapped the menu on the table, then met her eyes. “I’m being investigated for sexual assault against a fellow agent.”

As casually as if he’d just told her the sky was blue, he put his menu back behind the napkin holder. “I think I’ll have the chili with jalapeño cornbread. What looks good to you?”

Summer’s heart rose to her throat, and she squeaked, “What!”

“Chili and cornbread. I’ve missed Texas-style chili up in Chi-town.”

She reached for his arm and squeezed. His muscles in his forearm were rock hard, and despite the serious topic of their conversation, her belly twitched in recognition of the skin-to-skin contact. “Don’t pretend you didn’t just drop a bomb. Explain that—” she stopped, giving the woman with the young kids a side glance and lowering her volume to a whisper “—sexual assault comment.”

He firmed his mouth and withdrew his arm from her grip. “I’ll fill you in on the specifics later, somewhere less public. Leave it at this—I didn’t do what Charlotte’s contending.”

“Charlotte, huh?” She folded her arms over her chest and furrowed her brow. “I used to like that name. Not so much now.”

“Why don’t you tell me how you got started as a PI? And how long have you been back in Whisperwood? I tried to track you down in recent years and got nowhere. Where’ve you been?” He sipped his water, and his expression indicated he was closing the door on discussing his life.

“I’ve been a lot of places in the last seventeen or so years. You remember my dad reupped with the Army?”

He nodded.

“So we moved every couple of years. I started college in Georgia before…circumstances led me to change my major and transfer to Colorado State. Then after graduating with a degree in marketing, I decided I liked being my own boss. I’d gained a little experience and interest in private investigating thanks to those, uh, circumstances I mentioned…” She raised an eyebrow letting him know she’d be leaving that story untold for the moment.

“Mm-hmm, now who’s being mysterious and coy?” he asked.

“Not coy. Just saving the details for our private heart-to-heart when you tell all.”

The waitress returned and took their order. When they had semiprivacy again, she said, “I’d say the fact you couldn’t find me on social media indicates you aren’t a very good G-man, but, in truth, I tried to make myself hard to find.”

Nolan’s brow dipped. “Why would you do that?”

“A troublesome ex. That, and I’ve gone by different names over the years. The thing about moving to new schools every couple years is, you can reinvent yourself, be Victoria instead of Summer. Then I tried out Vee and by college I was going by Vicki. After Robby started hounding me, I switched to Tori.”

“What was wrong with Summer?” His gaze narrowed, and his hazel eyes darkened. “I liked Summer. Not just the name, but the girl I knew. Why reinvent yourself?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Boredom. Youthful experimenting. Because I could. New place, new name. It was a game.”

The noise that issued from his throat said he was skeptical. “And now you’re back in Whisperwood. Why?”

“That one’s easy. I love it here. Of all the places we moved over the years, all the zip codes where I lived since I was a kid, nowhere ever felt like home the way Whisperwood did. Maybe it was nostalgia, maybe it was because we lived here longer than anywhere else, but Whisperwood has always represented home and roots. It’s where I wanted to settle down and raise my family.” She spread her hands. “So a few months ago, I made it happen. I packed up my cat and headed down here. I found office space on Main Street and opened my own PI biz.”

“And got hired for a case that involves the crime scene at Lone Star Pharma.” His arched eyebrow asked for her to supply details.

“My first big case here. I helped with criminal cases at my old firm, but since I opened my own business, I’ve mostly been following cheating husbands, looking for lost relatives and finding missing dogs.”

He pulled an amused face. “Dogs?”

She chuckled. “Yeah. A little girl came in a couple weeks ago asking for help finding her dog. She had two dollars. I had a little time.” She shrugged. “We found the dog a couple doors down from her house twenty minutes later. I didn’t charge her. But word got around at the elementary school, and I’ve been hired twice more since then. Found both dogs at the same house as the first. It seems Mrs. Nesbit’s poodle was in heat, and every male dog in the neighborhood was visiting Fluffy. Case closed.”

He laughed, and the rich sound sent a quiver to her core.

Their food arrived, and she tucked in, more to occupy her restless hands and distract her mind from the odd hum that had vibrated in her veins since sitting down with Nolan fifteen minutes earlier than from hunger.