Page 44 of Holiday Hook Up

And what happened next was way better than any pair of wings. She’d laced her fingers in his for a split second before pulling away, but supplying just enough contact for a bolt of electricity to shoot up his arm.

He watched the film’s final scene with a big ole grin that had nothing to do with the movie’s happy ending. He was having yet another great time with Bethany. He wasn’t going to do anything to mess it up, and he wasn’t in any hurry to call it a night. As the movie credits rolled, he stretched his legs and flipped open the pizza box. “Want to split this last one?”

“Sure.” Bethany took her half and swirled it in the sauce. “So what exactly is in this this?”

He shrugged. “Good question. I don’t know.”

“But you worked for Ralph all those years. He never had you make it?”

“Nope, and he guards that secret recipe better than Emma does those mixing spoons. No one knows it—although . . .” He tapped his knuckle on his seat arm. “I bet who might be able to tell us.” He chuckled and waved the container in the air. “Hey, MR, if you happen to know what Ralph puts in his sauce, can you spill the beans?”

“MR.”

Adam turned to see Bethany’s eyebrows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“MR,” she repeated, but this time in a whisper.

“It’s a nickname. MR. Mary Reed. Like calling you LB.”

“Right.” She stood and tripped over the glass she’d set on the floor, wine spilling everywhere. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He grabbed the napkins. “I know where Caitlin keeps her mop.” He grinned. “No biggie.”

“I need to go.” She grabbed her jacket and shoved it on.

Why was she so freaked out? “Okay. Do you want me to drive you? I’ll clean this up. It’ll take five minutes, tops.”

“No. My car’s in the parking lot.” She stepped around the spilled wine. “I’m sorry for leaving you this, but I really need to go.”

“Okay. No problem.” What was up with her mad dash? Was it something he said? “Bethany,” he called out.

She turned, looking like she was going to tear into him if he didn’t let her leave.

“Thanks for coming tonight and having dinner with me.”

Her expression softened, and she pulled the door open to the balcony. “I had a great time.” She turned and disappeared.

“Me, too,” he said to the empty balcony. What was going on in that pretty head of hers?

It only took a few minutes to clean up the spilled wine. Grabbing his jacket, he walked down the corridor and stopped at the black-and-white picture of Mary, holding what they all came to realize was the box containing the shimmering blue mixing spoon. The picture had been taken on the theater’s opening night and now hung in the corridor along with other old pictures of the theater throughout the years.

He tapped on the frame. “Listen, Mary, in addition to sharing the ingredients in Ralph’s sauce, can you clue me in on Bethany Wilson?”

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