bride-to-be than ever.
Addie knew the vampire, the bounty hunter, and was comfortable riding with her.
And she knew enough about him to keep them apart.
That was damn interesting.
Soft footsteps drew his attention from the window to the staircase before he could decide to follow her.
“Oh.” Mr. Whitaker tried focusing his bloodshot eyes on Boaz. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”
The red-rimmed eyes and loose gait at this hour worried Boaz enough he mashed pause on the concerns whirring in his head about Addie and awarded his future father-in-law his full attention. “Addie invited me to stay while I wrap up a local case.”
“Ah.” Mr. Whitaker ambled into the kitchen. “I see.”
“I hope that’s all right.” Boaz followed him, wary of how the older man swayed on his feet. “I can get a hotel if you like.”
“Addie knows what she’s doing.” He selected a mug out of a cabinet and set it on the counter. “If she invited you to stay, she has good reason.” He rubbed his forehead and searched the room with a sweeping frown. “Where is the coffeepot?”
“It’s right here.” Boaz kissed his chances of tailing Addie goodbye. “I was about to make myself a cup.” The lie came to him easily, and so he made it a truth. “Tell me how you like yours, and I’ll make it a double.”
“All right.” Mr. Whitaker shuffled to the pantry, opened it, and scanned the empty shelves. “There’s no bread for toast.”
The man’s honest confusion tugged Boaz in opposing directions and left him torn.
Mr. Whitaker ought to be aware that, with no savings remaining, if he didn’t work, the family couldn’t eat. That left Addie working sixty-hour weeks to pay their bills and stock their cupboards.
But he had lost so much, and he was always first to praise Addie for her contributions to the family. That was something. Not enough, but a start.
“I’ll pick some up on my way home.” Boaz checked the fridge, found eggs and cheese but not much else. “Would you like an omelet?”
“I suppose it will have to do.” Mr. Whitaker sat at the table and stared at the place mat before him. “Are there onions?”
A quick check of the pantry provided one that had seen better days but would do the job. “Here we go.”
Mr. Whitaker nodded, as if that made everything right with his world, and slipped into a quiet trance.
Over the years of living alone, Boaz had picked up few cooking skills, but he could manage eggs okay. He made one omelet to keep from using up the carton of eggs, and he leaned on his rusty seasoning skills to cover for the light sprinkling of cheese and small amount of edible onion.
“You must think poorly of me,” Mr. Whitaker said after a while. “I wasn’t always like this.”
“You raised a thoughtful and kind daughter. That speaks to your character enough for me.”
Another pause lingered between them. “Do you think you can love her?”
“I intend to try.” Boaz was grateful his back was to the man. “She’s a good woman. It’s what she deserves.”
“She deserves better than to sacrifice everything for the sake of the ghosts who haunt this house, me included.”
“She would disagree with you.” He glanced over his shoulder. “She loves you very much.”
“She’s all I have left.” He slumped forward. “It’s too much for her to shoulder alone.”
“She’s not alone.” Boaz could say this much and make it true. “She’s got me.”
Mr. Whitaker fell silent, and Boaz imagined the man’s stare drilling through his spine, weighing his intentions. But when he turned, Mr. Whitaker had fallen asleep on the table with his head braced on his forearms.
Heart heavy for the burden Adelaide had carried for so long, Boaz plated up the meal and set it on the table. He covered it with a paper towel and jotted down instructions on how to reheat it. He worried if he put it in the microwave, Mr. Whitaker might not be able to find it given his present condition.
After the coffee finished, Boaz set a cup of plain black next to the plate, grabbed his keys, and exited the house. Willy sat where he’d left her, and he patted the motorcycle fondly. She was a beast compared to Jolene, his first bike, but then he wasn’t a high school kid anymore either.
Waiting until the Bluetooth in his helmet synced with his phone, he gave the voice command to dial Parker. “You run that plate for me yet?”
“Believe it or not, I didn’t have