Page 97 of Kiss Marry Kill
Frowning, I said, “At least let me pay my half.”
“No need.” He moved to the edge of the booth.
“Wait. You’re leaving already?” Surprised, I frowned down at his half-eaten burger. He hadn’t even touched the salad. It wasn’t like Royce to leave food. “What about your lunch?”
He met my gaze. “I have a lot of work waiting for me at the station.”
“I see.” Something was definitely wrong. He’d been so warm when he’d first arrived; now he was closed off. “Can’t you stay just a little longer?”
“I would, but I only had about a half hour to spare.”
“That’s disappointing.”
A spark of guilt shifted through his eyes. “I hadn’t seen you much the last few days. I wanted to make time for you.”
“I definitely appreciate that, but… I feel like you just got here.”
A muscle jerked in his cheek. “Yeah, sorry. Duty calls.”
“Are you… mad at me?” I blinked at him. “I’m not great at reading people… but it feels like you are.”
He got out of the booth and stood next to the table. “I ain’t mad at you, Max.”
“But… something is wrong.” It wasn’t a question.
He seemed to catch himself, and he forced a smile. It didn’t really reach his eyes though. “I’ll see you tonight. We can talk more then.”
“You’ll be home at a decent hour?” I asked skeptically.
“I’ll try.”
I swallowed hard, uneasiness shifting through me. “Did I do something wrong?”
His grimaced. “No, Max. You… you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me. It’s my own problem.” He seemed to relax slightly, and he bent over to kiss me. His warm mouth felt reassuring, but he straightened quickly. “I’ll see you at home… er… at my place… later.”
“All right.”
He gave a weak smile and left the restaurant.
I watched him go, feeling bewildered. I’d definitely done or said something to upset him.
It’s me. It’s my own problem.
What exactly had that meant? Was he upset with me for finding my new place? That wouldn’t make any sense. He’d known that was the plan all along. Could it simply be that he was stressed-out about this murder case? He also had to deal with the Raidens threatening him with his job. Perhaps it was just all of that piling up on him that had him overwhelmed. But then, why had he seemed fine at first?
My phone rang, and I answered it distractedly, “Dr. Thornton here.”
“Where are you?” Mrs. Numi’s voice came over the line.
“At the Pancake Cottage. I’m just about to leave.” Excitement skipped through me. Did she have good news for me? I couldn’t tell from her voice.
“I’ll meet you out front in five minutes.” She hung up.
Frowning, I tucked my phone away into my pocket. I slid from the booth and gave all the wasted food on the table a grimace. I was tempted to have Jeanette box it all up, but if I was meeting Mrs. Numi, I wouldn’t want to be lugging around a bag of leftovers. I decided to just leave it and, pushing down my guilt for all the hungry people in the world, went out front to meet Mrs. Numi.
Her Mercedes was pulling up to the curb as I exited the building. I strode to her car, and when she unlocked the doors and waved for me to get in, I did. A tiny green tree air freshener hung from the rearview mirror, filling the car with a pine scent. Her air conditioner was on, even though it was December, and she had a stack of folders on her lap.
“We have a situation, Dr. Thornton.” She sounded harassed, and her reading glasses were askew.
