her palm covering the lower half of her face again. Just like the scent of cinnamon made her remember Christmas, breathing in Mad made her remember being in love with him.
Being so happy.
She had to stop thinking about then. And them.
“I’ve never seen you wear a dress before,” he said now, “even with leggings underneath it.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed you knew so much about female garments. Leggings?”
“Sister, mom,” he said. “Women friends. I listen.”
“Fiancée too, as I recall.” Did that come out snarky?
“Do we need to do more air-clearing?”
It had come out snarky.
“Your engagement is none of my concern.” Time for a subject change. “Hungry?”
He didn’t comment as she reached behind the seat to haul her canvas tote into her lap. Inside, she found the packages of Oreos and Nilla Wafers.
“Your bag is full of cookies? So you aren’t packed and ready to go.”
“I’m getting there. I cleaned my closet this evening,” she said. “That’s where I found the dress, if you must know. My mom insists I get rid of all my stuff before I head out this time.”
What was a little white lie? Reaching across the space, she passed over a handful of Oreos.
“So what’s in Nevada?” he asked.
Nothing. Nobody.
She bit into a cookie and chewed to avoid answering. Then she swallowed and put her nose to the window crack to breathe in fresh, un-Mad scented air. “I didn’t tell you about my visit to the Cochrans.”
“Who claim they’ve been visited by avocado robbers.”
“Right. I was skeptical too, because they told me it was only a couple of bins’ worth, but Mr. Cochran, he’s the owner—”
“I know Jerome Cochran.”
“He’s very sure that they were stolen, though like Grandpop, he doesn’t want to take this to the authorities, because—”
“I know Jerome Cochran.”
“It goes back to—”
“1972, an arrest for growing weed. I’ve heard it all before.”
“He wasn’t growing weed, he assures me. He may have had a couple of doobies—his word—in his glove box, but he didn’t grow weed.” She cleared her throat. “Then.”
“I don’t think he has a current cultivation license…” Mad shook his head. “Never mind.”
“Right. So he said his crop thieves came well after midnight.”
The watch on Mad’s wrist flashed on, briefly illuminating his face as he checked the hour.
So damn handsome.
“That means we have quite a bit of time to kill,” he said.
“Right.” She tried not to think that didn’t sound like a threat.
“So what’s in Nevada?” Mad asked again.
“Las Vegas, actually,” she said, and waved her hand. “Bright lights, big city.”
“Ah.” He shifted on his seat. “Teaching English?”
She hesitated. “Pouring drinks, actually.”
“Ah,” he said again.
His neutral tone put her hackles up anyway. “It’s a skill worth having. The tips are good. You meet a lot of people.”
He put his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t criticize. I wouldn’t.”
“Anyway, I’m just, uh, pausing. Before what comes next.” She waited for him to ask what exactly that was, which would be awkward, since she had no idea.
“So.” Mad cleared his throat. “You meet a lot of people, bartending?”
“Hm? Yeah.”
“You date, then. Or have someone special in the big city under the bright lights?”
In the last eighteen months, she’d had exactly three underwhelming dates. “I’m pretty busy and I work odd hours.”
“Right.”
“I guess you’re busy as well, what with thwarting murders.” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe it.”
“We put in a lot of hours on that one. But I manage to get some surfing in too. Shane Rodriguez and I, along with another couple of pals, have gone on some great trips to Mexico, Thailand, and Costa Rica.”
She blinked. “I’ve been to Costa Rica. I never expected you to go so far afield for waves.”
“We get more out of traveling than new swells, but yeah.” His tone turned wry. “I’ve managed to apply for a passport and everything. Took the piece of straw out of my mouth for the photo.”
“I didn’t…well…”
“My sister and I toured Western Europe for three weeks on bikes. I went to Ireland to rub shoulders with the 50,000 citizens who share my surname.”
“There are 50,000 Kellys there?” she asked, just to say something, because it gobsmacked her to think of Mad seeking the perfect wave in Central America or drinking Guinness at a pub in Dublin.
Maybe they’d have crossed paths on one of her teaching assignments or on her own between-teaching travels. Maybe he could have found where she was living and dropped by for a visit. Had he considered it?
She would have fallen over in shock. Not once had she thought