He stopped short. “I don’t.”
“Are you sure? I’ve heard you average women at least four years younger. I’m thirty-two. My birthday’s in two months.”
“I don’t ask a woman about her age before we go out. If there’s a connection, that’s what I go on.”
“You never asked me out.”
“I asked you to marry me,” he said, blowing out a frustrated breath. “Doesn’t that count?”
She shook her head. “I mean when you first came to town. When you were making the rounds.”
“I didn’t make the rounds. Besides, you were pregnant.”
“I haven’t been pregnant for a while.”
“Did you want me to ask you out?” The attraction he’d denied since the first time he saw her roared to life again.
She shook her head again. “I’m just curious, like most of the town is now. We’ve barely spoken to each other in the last two years.”
“I thought the idea was that we were keeping the relationship under wraps.”
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Green,” he answered automatically then held up a hand. “What’s going on? I don’t understand why you think this won’t work. You made a believer of Annabeth Sullivan, the town’s main gossip funnel.”
Julia stood and glanced at her watch. “The girls will start coming in any minute. I don’t know, Sam. This is complicated.”
“Only if you make it complicated.”
“What’s my favorite food?”
“How the heck am I supposed to know?”
“If we were in love, you’d know.”
Sam thought about his ex-fiancée and tried to conjure a memory of what she’d like to eat. “Salad?” he guessed.
Julia rolled her eyes. “Nobody’s favorite food is salad. Mine is lobster bisque.”
Sam tapped one finger on the side of his head. “Got it.”
“There’s more to it than that.”
“Come to dinner tonight,” he countered.
“Where?”
“My place. Five-thirty. I talked to my dad this morning. He didn’t mention delving into my emotions once. Huge progress as far as I’m concerned. He can’t wait to spend more time with you.”
“That’s a bad idea, and I have Charlie.”
“The invitation is for both of you.” He took her shoulders between his hands. “We’re going to make this work, Julia. Bring your list of questions tonight—favorite color, food, movie, whatever.”
“There’s more to it than—”
“I know but it’s going to work.” As if by their own accord, his fingers strayed to her hair and he sifted the golden strands between them. “For both of us.”
At the sound of voices in the salon, Julia’s back stiffened and her eyes widened a fraction. “You need to go.”
“We’re engaged,” he reminded her. “We want people to see us together.”
“Not here.”
He wanted to question her but she looked so panicked, he decided to give her a break. “Dinner tonight,” he repeated, and as three women emerged from the hallway behind the salon’s main room, he bent forward and pressed his lips against hers.
Her sharp intake of breath made him smile. “Lasagna,” he whispered against her mouth.
“What?” she said, her voice as dazed as he felt.
“My favorite food is lasagna.”
She nodded and he kissed her again. “See you later, sweetheart,” he said and pulled back, leaving Julia and the three stylists staring at him.
* * *
“Abby, how old are you?” Sam stepped out of his office into the lobby of the police station.
Abby Brighton, who’d started as the receptionist shortly after he’d been hired, looked up from her computer. “I’ll be twenty-eight in the fall.”
“That’s young.”
“Not really,” she answered. “Maggie Betric is twenty-six and Suzanne over at the courthouse in Jefferson just turned twenty-five.”
“Twenty-five?” Sam swallowed. He’d gone out to dinner with both women and had no idea they’d been that much younger than him. When did he become a small-town cradle robber? Jeez. He needed to watch himself.
“Julia’s in her thirties, right?” Abby asked.
“Thirty-two.”
“When’s her birthday?”
“Uh...” Wait, he knew this. “It’s in May.”
Abby turned her chair around to face him. “I still can’t believe I didn’t know you two were dating.”
“No one knew.”
“But I know everything about you.” She looked away. “Not everything, of course. But a lot. Because I make the schedule and we work so closely together.”
He studied Abby another minute. She was cute, in a girl-next-door sort of way. Her short pixie cut framed a small face, her dark eyes as big as saucers. They’d worked together for almost two years now, and he supposed she did know him better than most people. But what did he know about her? What did he know about anyone, outside his dad and brother?
Sure, Sam had friends, a Friday-night poker game, fishing with the boys. He knew who was married and which guys were confirmed bachelors. Did knowing the kind of beer his buddies drank count as being close?
“Do you have a boyfriend, Abby?”
Her eyes widened farther. “Not at the moment.”
“And your only family in town is your granddad?”
She nodded.
Okay, that was good. He knew something about the woman he saw every day at work. He looked around her brightly colored workspace. “I’m guessing your favorite color is yellow.”
She smiled. “Yours is hunter green.”
How did she know that?
“Does Julia make you happy?” she asked after a moment.
“Yes,” he answered automatically. “Why?”
“I just wouldn’t have pictured her as your type.” Abby fidgeted with a paper clip. “She’s beautiful and everything, but I always saw you with someone more...”
“More?”
“Someone nicer, I suppose.”
“You don’t think Julia’s nice? Has she been unkind to you?”
Abby shook her head. “No, but I hear stories from when she was in high school. I’m in a book club with some ladies who knew her then.”
“People change.”
“You deserve someone who will take care of you.”
“I’m a grown man, Abby. I can take care of myself.”
“I know but you need—” She stopped midsentence when the phone rang. She answered and, after a moment, cupped her hand over the receiver. “Someone ran into a telephone pole out at the county line. No injuries but a live wire might be down.”
Sam