“Thanks.” I put my brush down and gave him a smile through the mirror. My hair hung in damp strands down my back and the plush white towel I’d cinched around my chest was so big it hit me at the knees.
He dropped a kiss to my bare shoulder and gave me a look that said today wasn’t going to be the relaxing, stress-free Sunday I’d hoped for. Our Saturday hadn’t been a lot of fun either.
“I called the hotel. Talked to Mateo. He checked in a couple with the last name Ward last night.”
My hands fisted. “They didn’t leave.”
“Nope.”
“Well . . . shit.”
“Pretty much,” he muttered.
Of course they’d be at The Eloise, polluting what was mine. There were a few motels in the area but none were as nice.
What were my parents doing here? Why the phone calls?
Why the private investigator? They’d turned their backs on me when I’d needed them most, yet now they showed. Now?
Maybe I could believe there wasn’t some ulterior motive if only Mom had visited. It had been her calling for months. But for Dad to make the trip to Montana, there was something else going on.
There’d been desperation in his voice yesterday. Urgency.
“I need to talk to them,” I grumbled.
“Give me ten to shower. Then we’ll go.”
“Wait.” I held up a hand before he could take off his shirt.
“I’d better talk to them alone.”
“No.”
“Knox—”
“No, Memphis.”
I stepped closer, fitting my hands to his ribs, feeling the tension in his body beneath the long-sleeved thermal he’d pulled on this morning after rolling out of bed. “I love that you’re ready to follow me into battle. But I know my parents. I know my father. If you’re there, he won’t tell me the truth.
He’ll be on the defense.”
Knox dragged in a breath, his nostrils flaring. Then his frame relaxed and he wrapped me in his arms. “I don’t like this.”
“Me neither.”
“I’m not staying here. We’ll go in together. Drake and I will hang at the restaurant.”
I nodded, burying my face in his chest, drawing from his strength. “Okay.”
He kissed my forehead, then we both flew into action, me blow-drying my hair while he showered.
He’d taken seven trips to the loft yesterday, each time under the ruse of getting something for Drake. He’d leave with my empty laundry basket and return with it overflowing.
My shampoo and conditioner were in the shower. My other toiletries were in a drawer beneath one of the double sinks. My clothes were hung in his closet. My panties, socks and bras were in the dresser. And nearly everything of Drake’s was in the guest bedroom.
In a single day, he’d practically moved us in.
We were moving at the speed of light, and even though my brain screamed for me to slow him down, my heart refused to put up a fight. Instead, I’d just helped him organize.
If we fell apart—God, I hoped we didn’t fall apart—I’d be moving into town. So what was the difference between moving out of his place or the loft?
While I changed Drake out of his pajamas and into an outfit, Knox reloaded the diaper bag. When I stepped outside, ready to head for the Volvo, Knox’s truck was running, the cab warm, and the base for Drake’s car seat was secured in the back.
The drive to town was silent. This was the first time I’d been a passenger in ages, and seeing Quincy from this angle was different. Or maybe today as we drove, I saw it for what it had become.
Home.
The town council was already gearing up for the holidays.
Pine-bow garlands twined around each of the lampposts that lined Main Street. Quincy Farm and Feed had fenced off a quarter of their parking lot for Christmas trees. The movie theater featured the latest blockbuster along with Dr. Seuss’s The Grinch.
I hadn’t been to the theater yet but when Drake was older, we’d be weekend regulars. A chalkboard sign for free apple cider had been placed in the window of the Wooden Spoon.
Another store I hadn’t been in yet but maybe I’d swing in and get Knox a kitchen gadget. I knew the storefronts but not their interiors. I hadn’t made exploring Quincy a priority, but that was about to change.
Since I’d left the city, I’d been telling myself not to give up. But did I need the daily reminders anymore? Maybe not.
I wasn’t giving Quincy up.
Or Knox.
“Hey.” He stretched an arm across the truck’s cab and captured my hand. “Change your mind about me coming along?”