“Of all the cooking classes in all the world, you had to walk into mine,” Cordelia muttered.
For the next half-hour, Liam flirted with Ginny, who was full of sighs and giggles. The class was actually kind of fun…they were making a Bolognese sauce, and the smell was thick and spicy. Liam was a pretty fair cook himself, but it was nice, being out with grownups. People joked and laughed and swapped insults. Everyone except Cordelia, Liam noticed, who seemed awfully quiet. When they all sat down to eat, pushing two tables together, Liam made sure he was across from her.
“I’d think you were already a pretty good cook,” he said, taking a bite of the pasta.
His foot touched hers accidentally, but she jumped as if he’d slugged her. “Excuse me?”
“Since your parents own a restaurant,” he said. Granted, people didn’t really go to Guten Tag for the food, but still.
“Um, right. I cook a little.” She didn’t look at him, and Liam smiled.
“She’s lying,” the teacher said, coming over and putting his arm around her. “She’s my sister-in-law, and even though I’ve been with her brother since the dawn of time, I can say that Posey here has never made me anything more than a Newman’s Own pizza.”
“Which was excellent,” she retorted.
“Well, I’m sure she has other skills,” Liam murmured, and bam, her cheeks went nuclear. She shoveled in a bite of pasta and chewed, still not looking at him. She wore two flannel shirts, but both were unbuttoned a few, and Liam could see a little camisole thing underneath it. Girl clothes, in other words, and Liam had the sudden urge to peel off those layers of flannel and see what lay beneath.
Well, well, well. Granted, it had been a while, but here he was, picturing Cordelia na**d. Might be a nice little package under there. Compact. Petite. The word spitfire came pleasingly to mind. As if reading his thoughts, Cordelia laced her hands together and stretched out her arms, cracking her knuckles and staring at him with narrowed eyes. The Slitty Eyes of Death, Osterhagen-style. Liam grinned at her and took another bite of the spaghetti Bolognese.
“It sure has been nice meeting you,” Ginny said, and Liam stood up.
“Same here,” he said and kissed her on the cheek. “I had a great time.”
“I’m going to relive that for quite some time,” she said, and he laughed and kissed her again, then took his seat once more.
Most of the people were trailing out, he noticed. Jon was leaning in the doorway, laughing with a student. Only Cordelia and he were still eating—she might pretend not to notice him, but here she was—and Liam realized he really didn’t want to go home just yet.
“Do you have plans tonight?” he asked.
“N— Um, yes.”
“No, you don’t.”
She narrowed her eyes again—pretty eyes, now that he noticed. Brown. He’d always liked brown eyes. “What makes you so sure I don’t have plans, Liam?”
“Do you?”
Another blush. “Jon, we’re having drinks tonight, right? At Rosebud’s?”
Jon paused, his eyes going from Posey’s face to Liam’s. “Uh…yes?”
“Mind if I tag along?” Liam asked.
“I… Posey?”
She set down her fork and glared up at him. “Okay, Liam, fine. I don’t have plans other than going home and watching a movie with my dog and cats. Okay? Happy now?”
Liam cocked his head and studied her face. “Are you mad at me?”
“Nope.”
“You seem mad.”
Jon’s phone rang. “Oh, there’s Henry. Bicker away, young lovers. I’ll call you tomorrow, Posey. Nice seeing you again, Liam.”
“Same here. Thanks for letting me stay.”
They were the only ones left in the room. She was clearly pissed, but why? And why wouldn’t she just tell him, since he’d asked and everything? Women. They were the least straightforward creatures in the universe. “So,” he said. “Back to your bad attitude. Are you always this grouchy?”
She shoveled in a huge bite of pasta. “No,” she said thickly. “You just bring out the worst in me.” She pursed her lips, and there it was again, that not-quite memory.
“So, how about it?” he asked. “Want to grab a beer? Or a coffee?”
Her face flushed. “Liam, I’m betting at least two dozen women have come on to you since you got back to town. I bet women have to take a number just to stand close to you. Why don’t you call one of them?”
“Why don’t you want to go out with me?”
“On a date? You want to take me on a date, Liam? Because don’t forget, this is a singles cooking class, and only desperate people sign up for these things. I’ve never been married, I’m thirty-three years old, I have three cats, my mother already has an entire roomful of toys for my unborn children. You really want to take me out for a beer? Because you know I’ll read into this and start shopping for a wedding dress.”
He bit down on a smile. “Is that a yes?”
She tossed down her fork. “It’s a no.”
Well, color him shocked. He wracked his brain for a memory of the last time he’d been turned down and came up empty. “Okay. I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Truck.”
“Whatever.”
The smell of rain was in the air, and a damp wind blew from the river. Liam sighed. Guess he’d be sitting home alone after all tonight. Well. At least he’d gotten out a little.
Cordelia’s hair fluttered in the wind, and she hugged her thick jacket more closely around her as they approached her truck.
“Liam,” Cordelia said abruptly, then stopped. She sighed and stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Do you really want to get a beer with me, or are you just jerking my chain?”
He looked down at her; she was staring at her truck door. “I’d love to get a beer with you, Cordelia.”
“Why?”
He hesitated a second. “Because I’m a lonely widower who doesn’t want to go back to his empty apartment and stare at the walls.”
She folded her arms and scowled at the pavement. When she looked up, her expression wasn’t nearly so fierce. “Okay. But only because you pulled the widower card.”
“At least it’s good for something.”
Then she smiled, just a flash, and something moved in Liam’s chest. Something warm, and something he hadn’t felt in a long time. “Meet you at Rosebud’s,” she said.
Then she jumped in her truck. Turned the key. He heard the click of a dead battery.
“I’ll drive,” he said, grinning.
“Shoot,” she said. “I need a jump.” She glanced dismissively at his car.
“My battery won’t have enough juice for a truck that size,” he said.
“I’m aware.” She pursed her lips, and he found that he really wanted to get that beer with her.
“How’s this?” he said. “I’ll come back tomorrow and jump it with the truck from the garage. I can drive you home tonight. Good enough?”
“Okay,” she said after a pause.
“Great,” he said, and as he opened the passenger door of his car for her, Liam found that he was smiling.
As he started the car, however, Liam glanced at the dashboard clock—crap. It was 9:20.
He’d missed Nicole’s call. “Hang on one second,” he said as Cordelia buckled herself in. He dug his phone out. No missed calls, no messages. He typed a quick note. Having fun? Text your dear old dad. Waited a beat— Nicole, like every teenager he knew, practically had her phone implanted in her palm. She’d answer back within seconds.
Except she didn’t. “Come on,” he muttered.
“Problem?” Cordelia asked.
“Um…not yet.” He’d call her. She hated when he called, but she’d missed their check-in, so she’d have to deal.
“Hi, you’ve reached Nicole Murphy’s voice mail! Sorry I’m not around, you know what to do.”
“Nicole, it’s your father. Call me,” he growled.
“‘Nicole, it’s your father,’” Cordelia mimicked in a low voice, smiling. “I bet she knows your voice by now.”
“It’s not funny,” he said. “She’s at a party. They said no boys were coming, but you know what? I bet there are boys.”
“Why don’t you call the parents?”
“Good idea.”
Unfortunately, the Carlisles seemed to have an unlisted number. Very suspicious. He should’ve asked for their number when he dropped Nicole off. He’d left his numbers, sure, and obviously Nicole had her own phone. Why hadn’t he asked for the Carlisles’ number? Furthermore, why hadn’t they offered it, when he was reciting his own? Huh? Because maybe they didn’t want him to know it, that’s why. That’s what you’d do if you were a drug dealer, right? And drug dealers relied on children getting hooked, and Nicole was in fact a child and therefore a potential client for a drug dealer, and even if that was a little far-fetched, you never knew.
“We’re just gonna swing by their house, okay? Just to check on them,” Liam said, the tires screeching as he pulled out of the parking lot.
“Great. Another fun night stalking Liam’s daughter,” Cordelia muttered. “Can you let me out at the corner? I left something on the stove, I just remembered.”
He didn’t answer. Best-case scenario, Nicole was simply being a teenager, forgetting to check in with him, even if that rule was carved in stone, damn it. Worst-case scenario? Vodka. Ecstasy. Boys. Cars. Dismemberment and/or death.
They turned onto Lighthouse Avenue, where the Carlisles lived—okay, yes, they screeched onto Lighthouse Avenue. “For the love of Elvis, slow down,” Cordelia said, clutching the dashboard.
Liam didn’t answer, too busy sweating. The downstairs curtains of the house were drawn. On every window. That was not cool. In fact, it was really, really suspicious. He stared at the house, his hands clenched around the wheel.
“So…you going in?” Cordelia asked.
“What? No. I’m just… I’ll just check.”
“What do you mean, check?”
Liam opened the car door. “I’m going to…look. Because if they’re doing something illegal in there, I want proof.”
“Illegal? Liam, you’re… Come back!”
He barely heard her. If there were boys in there—and oh, if there were boys, Nicole would be in such trouble she would never see the stars again, because he’d ground her for the rest of her life. If it was worse—a bong, maybe (hell, every party he’d been to in high school had a bong), or worse, some kind of crack paraphernalia…
He felt a hand on his arm. “What are you doing, idiot?” Cordelia asked.
“I’m just gonna climb this tree and take a look.”
“Are you insane? You’re going to spy on a bunch of teenage girls? You want to talk illegal, Liam? Climb that tree, and I’ll call it in myself.”
“Well, I’m not just gonna knock on the front door and ask if they have any drugs in the house, am I?”
“Liam, your kid forgot to call you. Relax.”
“Right,” he snapped. “Relax. I don’t know those people, and yet my little girl is inside. And she’s all I have. I have to keep her safe.” There was that damn tightness in his chest again. He rubbed it with his fist, stopping when he saw Cordelia notice.
“Liam,” she said in a gentler voice. “She is safe. She’s at a sleepover. I’m sure it’s completely innocent. Let’s not have the choo-choo jump the tracks here.”
“Really?” he said. “She’s safe? Innocent? Then why didn’t she check in? Is she even in there? Why isn’t she answering her phone? Why do the Carlisles have an unlisted number? The curtains are pulled. Isn’t that what drug dealers do when they’re cutting up drugs?”
“Okay, crazy pants, you know what?” She sighed. “I’ll climb the tree, and if there are boys or kidnappers or ninja assassins, I’ll let you know. Okay?”
Liam gave a reluctant nod. “Okay. That’s a good idea.”
“No, it’s not. It’s a terrible idea, Liam. But at least you won’t get arrested. I’ve already had one date this month get hauled away in handcuffs. Give me a boost, idiot.”
CLIMBING A TREE on a windy April night to spy on a sleepover party…well, it was different, Posey had to admit that. She’d also admit that climbing trees was pretty fun. So was spying, if you got right down to it. And she had to hand it to Liam—she could see right into the bonus room window from here.
“Okay,” she said, glancing down at the world’s most neurotic father. His face was clenched with worry, and her heart gave an unwilling tug. She looked back across the street. “There are four girls. Does Nicole have green Hello Kitty pajamas?”
“Yes.”
“Well, she’s there. Looks like they’re playing Wii. Golf, I think. Or bowling. And oh, here comes a woman…forties…has a big bowl of something…is it needles?”
“Are you serious?”
Posey grinned. “Nope, seems to be popcorn. Should we call a SWAT team?” She looked down at Liam again. He was staring at the house, arms folded across his chest, the breeze ruffling his dark hair. “Can I come down now?” she asked.
“Yeah.”