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The Passing Storm(105)

Author:Christine Nolfi

“Thanks!”

Rae savored a last spoonful and pushed her bowl away. “We have a guest and another great cook. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get out of kitchen duty the rest of my natural-born life. Why learn, when I’ll never catch up?” Thinking of something else, she gave Griffin a curious look. “Walk me through how you pulled off a great meal with everything else you accomplished today. You met your parents for church services this morning, put in an hour at work, then picked up Quinn’s girlfriend—”

The slow cooker’s glass lid clattered down. “My friend. Don’t jinx me, Rae. I’m not sure Ava likes me that way.”

Connor snorted. “There were enough pheromones spiking the living room to knock me out cold. Trust me. That girl likes you.”

Quinn went red.

Rae shushed her father. “May I finish? I’m trying to ask when our talented guest had time to make dinner. Which was fantastic.” She let her eyes linger on Griffin too long.

He took the steamy appraisal as an invitation to play footsie beneath the table. Again.

“No mystery,” he told her. “I threw everything in the slow cooker before I met my parents at services this morning.”

“You’re amazing.”

“I know.” He slid his empty bowl toward hers. “I cooked. You clean up.” He turned to her father. “What are your thoughts on watching the Cavs? Game’s on soon.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Carrying the bowls to the sink, Rae darted a glance. “Griffin, it’s starting to feel like you’ve moved in permanently. What if I don’t want to watch the Cavs? You have your own house—I’ve seen it. A nice, cozy place right next door to Yuna’s. Feel free to visit your home if I’m in the mood for a movie.”

“I think I’ll put my place up for sale,” he teased.

“Hey. Totally not a tortoise response. Slow down!”

His eyes flashed. “Make me,” he murmured in a way that made her breathless.

Quinn flipped open the dishwasher. “I don’t mind if Griffin moves in.” Clearly, he wasn’t well versed in adult flirtation. He thought Griffin was serious. “Can we vote?” he added, lifting his hand. “What do you say, Connor? Are you with me?”

“Well, son . . . responsible adults don’t move in with each other willy-nilly. If they’re in love, they get married first.” Clearing his throat, Connor grinned with pure mischief. “Now, don’t get me wrong. I hope there’s an election soon on the matter, because I’ll gladly cast my vote.”

Playing along, Griffin raised his hand. Then he leveled Rae with a heated glance. She caught herself sighing.

The doorbell rang.

Embarrassed, she pivoted away. “I’ll get it,” she said.

On the front stoop, Griffin’s sister and his niece both looked nervous.

Sally offered an apologetic smile. “We’re sorry to barge in like this.”

“It’s fine,” Rae assured her.

Relief crested in Sally’s eyes. “My brother mentioned you wanted to speak with Jackie later this week and, well, my daughter wanted to drop by anyway. She insisted, in fact. Not to stay, of course. We don’t want to intrude.” The relief melted beneath the anxiety bringing her nervous hands to her waist. “There’s something else, however. I hope you don’t mind if we take care of that first.”

Turning, Sally cast a pointed look at the driver of the other car. A silver BMW that Rae hadn’t noticed.

Katherine.

Startled, Rae glanced at the passenger side. Katherine had arrived by herself—her daughter, Stella, wasn’t in the car.

Chapter 33

Katherine cut the engine and got out. Rae wondered at Sally’s stern gaze, still trained on her best friend as Katherine wavered beside the BMW in her elegant coat. She clutched a Kate Spade bag. The breeze fluttered a tendril of her brown coif.

Sally’s eyes continued to throw darts.

With an air of disbelief, Rae watched the interplay between the two women. Then with anger, rippling through her so quickly she feared she couldn’t contain it.

The impulse to slam the door shut nearly took hold. I can’t deal with Katherine. For a terrible instant, her thoughts wheeled back to the night of Lark’s death. Nothing good will come from talking to her. Then Rae’s attention returned to young Jackie, shivering on the front stoop beside her mother; biting the side of her lip, Jackie rocked from foot to foot. Her eyes leaped from the driveway to the house and then back again.