had anything available.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t expected that and tried to reorient herself.
He shrugged. “I know I probably should have called first, but I was out this way anyway. I figured I’d just swing by in person to see if you had an application. If you want me to come back tomorrow, I will.”
“No, it’s not that. I’m just surprised. People usually don’t come by on Sundays to apply for a job.” Actually, they didn’t come by on other days, either, but she left that part out. “I’ve got an application on file here somewhere,” she said, turning toward the cabinet behind her. “Just give me a second to grab it.” She pulled out the bottom drawer and began rummaging through the files. “What’s your name?”
“Logan Thibault.”
“Is that French?”
“On my father’s side.”
“I haven’t seen you around here before.”
“I’m new in town.”
“Gotcha.” She fished out the application. “Okay, here it is.”
She set it in front of him on the counter along with a pen. As he printed his name, she noted a certain roughness to his skin, making her think that he spent a lot of time in the sun. At the second line of the form, he paused and looked up, their eyes meeting for the second time. She felt her neck flush slightly and tried to hide it by adjusting her shirt.
“I’m not sure what I should put for an address. Like I said, I just got to town and I’m staying at the Holiday Motor Court. I could also use my mom’s mailing address in Colorado. Which would you prefer?”
“Colorado?”
“Yeah, I know. Kind of far from here.”
“What brought you to Hampton?”
You, he thought. I came to find you. “It seems like a nice town, and I figured I’d give it a try.”
“No family here?”
“None.”
“Oh,” she said. Handsome or not, his story didn’t sit right, and she heard mental alarm bells starting to go off. There was something else, too, something gnawing at the back of her mind, and it took her a few seconds to realize what it was. When she did, she took a small step back from the counter, creating a bit more space between them. “If you just got to town, how did you know the kennel was hiring? I didn’t run an ad in the paper this week.”
“I saw the sign.”
“When?” She squinted at him. “I saw you walking up, and there was no way you could have seen the sign until you got to the front of the office.”
“I saw it earlier today. We were walking along the road, and Zeus heard dogs barking. He took off this way, and when I went to find him, I noticed the sign. No one was around, so I figured I’d come back later to see if that had changed.”
The story was plausible, but she sensed that he was either lying or leaving something out. And if he had been here before, what did that mean? That he’d been scoping out the place?
He seemed to notice her unease and set the pen aside. From inside his pocket he pulled out his passport and flipped it open. When he slid it toward her, she glanced at the photo, then up at him. His name, she saw, was legitimate, though it didn’t silence the alarm bells. No one passed through Hampton and decided to stay here on a whim. Charlotte, yes. Raleigh, of course. Greensboro, absolutely. But Hampton? Not a chance.
“I see,” she said, suddenly wanting to end this conversation. “Just go ahead and put your mailing address on it. And your work experience. After that, all I need is a number where I can reach you and I’ll be in touch.”
His gaze was steady on hers. “But you’re not going to call.”
He was sharp, she thought. And direct. Which meant she would be, too. “No.”
He nodded. “Okay. I probably wouldn’t call me based on what you’ve heard so far, either. But before you jump to conclusions, can I add something else?”
“Go ahead.”
Her tone made it plain that she didn’t believe anything he said would matter.
“Yes, I’m temporarily staying at the motel, but I do intend to find a place to live around here. I will also find a job here.” His gaze did not waver. “Now about me. I graduated from the University of Colorado in 2002 with a degree in anthropology. After that, I joined the marines, and I received an honorable discharge two years ago. I’ve never been arrested or charged with any crime, I’ve never