Silent Night Shadows. Sarah Varland

matter what he thought. All that mattered was the fact that his presence meant she could be here, cleaning up this mess after she fed them both something, and that he might give her a clearer picture of how the events of yesterday affected her life, at least temporarily. Her safety was at stake here. That was far more important than her pride, no matter how much it smarted to have him see how much she’d changed.

      Claire unlocked the door, and Nate followed her inside. She found it ironic that though she made her living with hospitality downstairs at the coffee shop, she rarely had people over to her apartment. She’d had friends over more often before she’d sold her house. The apartment just wasn’t very conducive to having guests. But her options for people to entertain were dwindling, anyway, unless she wanted to be the third wheel—the only person not part of a couple. She had friends in town from high school, but most of them were married by now, and several of them had kids. She knew, theoretically, that she should still maintain relationships with them, but tell that to the feeling of loneliness and overwhelming awareness of her table-for-one relationship status any time she’d tried in the past to have a couple over.

      Lately it hadn’t been worth it to her. She’d had her parents over, and Gemma and Matt, but that was it.

      “You’re sure you don’t mind having dinner with me and talking about the case? I should have asked you in the car, I guess,” Nate said as they walked inside, giving her an out she was all too tempted to take.

      Honestly? No, Claire wasn’t sure. But she still didn’t feel like she understood what she was up against. Maybe she just needed Nate to rehash what he’d said last night, let her have a chance to process it when she wasn’t sleep-deprived and pumped full of adrenaline from waking up to find someone in her apartment. Something still didn’t make sense to her, and she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

      Besides, there was that elusive feeling of safety that had been missing since yesterday when she was attacked in town. Something about Nate nearby brought that back, logical or not. Was it the fact that he was someone she had a history with? That didn’t make much sense—she had a history of some type or another with almost everyone in this town, including just about everyone on the police force. She was surrounded by people who had known her forever.

      So why did Nate affect her this way? Claire didn’t know. But he did. She’d felt his absence all day—she wanted to feel safe now.

      Which is why she said, “I’m sure,” and put as much confidence into her voice as she could.

      “All right. At least let me help make dinner, then. What are we having?”

      And with that, Nate was in her kitchen, moving toward the sink, then washing his hands and standing ready to help like he belonged there. Anything Claire was lacking in confidence tonight she could borrow from Nate, because he had more than enough.

      “I was thinking something simple. Okra and tomatoes with Cajun sausage and rice sound okay?”

      Nate smiled. Had she seen him smile like that before? If she had, it had been a very long time ago—which was a shame. Because as attractive as he was when he looked serious and thoughtful—which was most of the time—he was at least as handsome when he smiled. “Sounds great.”

      Claire swallowed hard and looked away from him. “You can cut up the okra if you want. It’s in the fridge, and cutting boards are in the second drawer to the left of the stove.”

      They worked together in silence for a little while, which went more smoothly than Claire would have expected. The only person who’d ever tried to cook in this kitchen with her was Gemma. She loved her sister, but she and Gemma had realized that they weren’t meant to share the same kitchen. They ran into each other, reached over each other and got in the way so thoroughly that it took twice as long to cook anything. She and Nate moved through dinner prep like it was some kind of dance they’d both done before.

      Dance? Really? Claire shook her head. Nate Torres was the last man on earth she should have such thoughts about. Dating Justin back in college had been a bad enough idea, and she’d sworn off anyone resembling that type ever since.