Page 38 of Que Será, Syrah

“What are you doing?”

“Paying for dinner?” I respond, feeling mystified.

“But I was buying you a drink, remember? Although, at this point, I think I should probably buy you several.”

Oh. That. “Thanks but…let’s not and say we did, okay?” I joke, even though she isn’t laughing. “Seriously. It’s like I told you the other day, that’s really not necessary.”

“I know it’s not necessary. It wouldn’t be much of a gesture if I didn’t have a choice. But?—”

“Look, this has been nice. I’ve appreciated the company and the conversation. So, why can’t we just leave it at that?”

“Well thank you,” she says, giving in a lot more quickly than I thought she would. “I really enjoy your company, too.”

I smile and nod, thinking, it would have been nice to enjoy more of it. Thinking, if only we’d met again under different circumstances. Thinking, perhaps, in another lifetime…

Which is when she hits me with, “So, I guess I’ll just pay for dinner next time?”

Shit. “I don’t think that will be possible.”

“What? Why not?”

“Well, for one thing… Look, your cousins weren’t completely wrong. Not that I have a grudge against your family—I don’t mean that, exactly. But while your family is under investigation, it would be a conflict of interest for us to see each other.”

“I don’t know why. Haven’t we already covered this? I wasn’t even in the country when most of it happened.”

“Still. Don’t you think your family might see it as a betrayal—you siding with the enemy? You already said they warned you away from me.”

“Yes. They did. Does it look like I listened to them?”

“Well, maybe you should.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Legs, I…”

“I am not my family, Clay. Any more than you are yours. And I think we’re both old enough to decide for ourselves who we want to spend time with.”

“Well, my department might disagree with that assessment,” I tell her. “Maintaining personal contact with someone I met as a result of an investigation is also frowned upon.”

She stares at me then for a long moment without speaking. Then she gathers her things and gets to her feet. “Fine,” she says, just as our server returns with my credit card and the receipt for me to sign. “I get it. For the record though, I’m a big girl. You could have just said you weren’t interested in seeing me again. You didn’t have to lie and make up bullshit excuses.”

“Legs, wait,” I say. “I didn’t— They’re not—” But she’s gone, threading her way between tables, waving to her cousins from a distance. From the corner of my eye, I can see them turn to scowl at me again as I settle up with my server. “Yeah, yeah,” I grumble beneath my breath. “I’m not happy about it either.”

* * *

Chapter 9

Clay

I exit the restaurant onto Laurel—Oak Creek Canyon’s main street—and glance around. It’s Saturday night, which means there’s a decent amount of foot traffic, but I quickly spot Legs standing beside her car, digging for something in her purse—her keys, I assume as I break into a quick jog. “Allegra, wait.”

“No,” she says, removing her hand, with the key fob, from her bag just as I reach her side. “Go away.”

“Please,” I say pressing my palm against the car’s door to keep it from opening. “Just hold on a minute. You can’t just?—”

“I can’t just…what?” she snaps, then her expression changes. “No. Oh, no, you don’t,” she says angrily. “I am not drunk, damn you. You had even more to drink than I did. So, don’t you dare try and say that I can’t drive or I’m gonna call in a citizen’s complaint on you!”

“What? No! That’s not— I wasn’t—” I shake my head. “Would you give me a chance to explain? Please?”

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