back a degree, he gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Your cinnamon rolls are delicious and the coffee is just what I needed. If you don’t mind, I’ll take a travel mug full of it along with me again.”
“I don’t mind. Would you like another cinnamon roll for on the road?”
“Yes, I would,” he agreed.
“I’ll wrap one for you. Will you be here for dinner tonight?”
There was no hesitation in Nash’s voice. “No, I won’t. I’ll be having dinner out.” He’d brought his travel mug with him and now he filled it from the urn in the dining area. “Will more guests be checking in?”
Cassie had hopped up from her stool and was wrapping a second roll. “Yes. Thank goodness there will be another couple today. Do you like to mingle when you go out of town or take vacations?”
“I don’t take many vacations.”
“A workaholic?”
“Something like that,” he acknowledged.
Going back to the counter he picked up the roll she’d wrapped in foil. Then he gathered his Stetson from one of the hat racks on the wall and took out his keys. “Thanks again for breakfast. I’ll see you sometime.” Then, without another word, he was gone.
Cassie had noticed how he avoided personal questions and turned them around on her. She shrugged it off. Maybe Nash Tremont was just a very private man.
* * *
Nash gripped the steering wheel of his SUV tighter as he followed the car’s GPS directions to the library. But even with that greater tactile stimulation of his hands, even though his thoughts should be perusing the dates of the archives he wanted to look up, he felt bothered by what had happened at the bed-and-breakfast. He shook his left hand, then he put it back on the wheel and shook his right. Still he could feel a tingle in his fingers from the warmth of touching Cassie Calloway. It was absolutely crazy.
He hadn’t even looked at a woman with real interest since Sara. His bitterness over what had happened with her had leveled off into disappointment. The divorce rate among cops was well above the average. He’d told himself that over and over again. He’d told himself that his work was enough.
Suddenly his dashboard lit up. A female computer voice told him, “Mom is calling.”
He reached to the dash and pressed a button on the digital screen. “Hi, Mom.” He’d called her when he’d reached Austin so she wouldn’t worry.
“I thought I’d give you a call before we both got involved in our days.”
He checked the time on the dash. “This is early for you, isn’t it?” It was only 8 a.m.
“I’m going into work early today, lots of new car policies to write up. Must be spring. Drivers like to spruce up their cars or buy a new one.”
Nash smiled. His mother worked for an insurance company that wrote car and homeowner policies. She’d been working there for years and seemed to enjoy it.
“How do you like Austin?” she asked.
It seemed like an idle question but he knew she was fishing. “You didn’t tell anybody I was coming here, did you?”
“Who would I tell?” she asked innocently.
“If anyone calls from my office in Biloxi, you tell them I went camping in the backwoods, okay? And if Ben Fortune phones again, stick with the story that you don’t know where I am.” Some of his half siblings had tried to get in touch by mail and phone, but he’d ignored their requests.
Nash heard his mom let out a sigh. “I still don’t understand why you can’t be honest about what you’re doing at work.”
“Because I’m not supposed to be doing it.” He’d told her this before when he’d explained why he was spending time in Austin.
“This is on your own time. Why would anybody care?”
“There’s a hierarchy. The chief told me to drop this, so he’d be very unhappy if he knew I didn’t.”
“I get that. Are you sure you don’t want to look up your father while you’re there?”
“I’m sure.”
“I told you before, he’s not as terrible as the media makes him sound.”
His mother had her memories, but Nash knew the facts. Gerald Robinson had supposedly walked away from the Fortune money and built himself up from scratch. But he’d had many indiscretions along his road to success. Most of them had made their way into the media. Nash still couldn’t believe his mother wasn’t bitter about what had happened to her. Gerald had been married when he had an affair with Marybeth Tremont, but she’d had no expectations going into the affair. He’d given her that old line about his wife being a gold digger and not understanding him. But a man who cheated was a man who cheated. However, Gerald’s indiscretions were the reason Nash had so many half brothers and sisters he’d never met.
His mother’s voice came through the speaker again. “Is what you’re doing dangerous?”
“No, it’s not dangerous. I’m just rounding up background information and this is the best place to do it. With the Robinsons living here, I can nose around, listen to gossip, maybe even get close to them without anybody knowing who I am.”
“I want you to be careful,” his mother warned him.
“I’m always careful.”
He thought he heard her snort before she said, “You know Oklahoma isn’t quite as far from Austin as Biloxi is. If you wrap up early what you’re doing, you can fly home and visit.”
He didn’t get home as often as he thought he should. But there were memories there he didn’t want to revisit. Still, his mother was right. If he did wrap this up quickly, he should fly to Oklahoma for a visit.
“Let me see what happens here, Mom. I took a month of vacation.”
“You know, when I tell you to be careful this time, my advice isn’t simply about being careful physically.”
“What are you worried about?”
“I’m worried if you do run into a half brother or sister, or your father, you’ll leave Austin, stay removed from people who are your family and have many regrets. But I’m also worried that if you somehow make contact, you’ll get hurt.”
“I won’t get hurt. I don’t have any expectations. This is an investigation about wrongdoing...and fraud, Mom. That’s it.”
“If you say so.”
His mother often used that phrase when she didn’t agree with him. He knew it and she knew it.
“Are you going to stop for breakfast instead of just drinking coffee?” she asked.
She also knew him too well. “I actually did have breakfast this morning. The bed-and-breakfast served cinnamon rolls.”
“And? How were they?”
“Cassie gave me one to bring along for a snack.” He said the words without thinking, and the picture of her unwinding her cinnamon roll and licking the icing from her fingers made him almost break out in a sweat.
“Cassie?”
Uh-oh. He should have been watching his tongue. This investigation really did have him rattled. “She owns the bed-and-breakfast.”
“Is she old and gray?”
Again, as if a photo flashed in front of his eyes, he saw Cassie’s pretty face, her long brown wavy hair, her chocolate-brown eyes. “She’s probably about my age, but do not make anything of it.”
“Didn’t you say the bed-and-breakfast offers breakfast and dinner?”
“It