Love in a Nutshell - Janet Evanovich [36]
“Thanks, Clete,” Matt said.
He glanced at Kate, who wore a victorious smile. Their methods might vary, but Matt appreciated another person of action when he came across one. And he was appreciating Kate Appleton more by the minute.
* * *
KATE LOOKED at Matt’s profile in the dim illumination of his truck’s dashboard lights. The guy was wiped out, and she couldn’t blame him. He turned onto The Nutshell’s winding drive, then pulled up beside her Jeep.
“Home again,” he said.
She took in the silhouette of her childhood home and felt comfort ease into her bones.
“I am,” she said.
That much, at least, felt very right. She smiled at the thought and the man who had triggered it.
“Did you get dinner?” she asked.
“I never made it over to the food tables.”
“Why don’t you come in? I don’t have much outside the key food groups of chocolate and wine, but I’m sure I can pull something together.”
“Thanks, but I need to get back to the brewery and make sure everything’s under control, then look in on Laila. How about if I take a rain check?”
“Sure,” she said, even though she felt a little disappointed. She reached for the truck’s door handle. “Good night, then.”
Kate was about to exit the truck when Matt spoke again. “You’re not scheduled for tomorrow, are you?”
“No.”
“Then I’d like you to take a road trip with me. I’ll pick you up around eight.”
“Where are we going?”
“A motel.”
“A what?”
He smiled. “You heard me. We’re going to a motel, among other places. But it’s business. You can relax … for the moment.”
Kate was guaranteed not to sleep at all.
EIGHT
A couple minutes before eight on Saturday morning, Matt pulled into Kate’s driveway. He reached for the closest of the two travel mugs of coffee he’d brought along. As he took a swallow, he also took advantage of the opportunity to check out The Nutshell in the daylight. He’d bought the mortgage on the advice of his financial advisor, and his interest had been in the land and not the house.
Last night, when Kate had cornered Clete, she’d invoked the ghost of John Wayne. Matt had found it tough not to laugh, since he’d often thought Clete purposely cultivated the look and attitude. But if Matt were to talk ghosts and The Nutshell, he’d have to say the Rat Pack, with Frank Sinatra leading the charge, would hang out there.
Once upon a time, this had been a top-of-the-line cottage, but that time had passed. The Nutshell’s upkeep had to be a bear by virtue of its size, not to mention its windy perch over Lake Michigan. Though Kate had limited Matt’s indoor tour the other night, he’d guess the house held at least six bedrooms, and probably more.
The place’s white paint was pulling away from its trim, its entry porch had begun to sag, and its silvery cedar shingles were becoming gap-toothed in places. The Nutshell had character, though. He liked that it was as quirky as its current resident.
The front door swung open, and Kate appeared. She wore dressy boots, snug jeans, a clingy red V-necked sweater, and had a huge brown leather purse slung over her shoulder. Matt slipped from behind the wheel and rounded his truck. He opened the passenger-side door for her and waited while she climbed on board.
“Was it this big last night?” she asked, clicking her seat belt into place as they pulled out of her drive.
“What?”
“Your truck. Last night is kind of a haze of stage fright, adrenaline, and punch, so my memories are fuzzy. But it’s like Land of the Giants in here. My feet barely even reach the floor.” Her smile was brief, but it still made him feel good. “So the standard question would be: Tell me, Culhane, are you compensating for something with this monster vehicle?”
He grinned. “I’ve never worried about compensating.”
“Really?”
“Want to check?”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Kate said.
That was a flirtatious warning shot across her bow, she thought. She’d set it up, and he’d followed in kind. It was fun, but she didn’t want it to go further just yet. She dug through her purse and