He stepped inside, closed the door behind him, looked around. Wondered how many of these small-town and country folk had noticed that he’d been staring at Brynne like a damn fool.

Which he probably was. Brynne had made it pretty clear, after all, that she didn’t date cops.

Maybe she was just messing with him. Paying him back for dropping her, back in those thrilling days of yesteryear.

Suddenly, he was filled with misgivings.

Still, he was about to approach her—more like, he was drawn to her, as though magnetized—when his nephew interrupted.

Eric looked very young and more than a little worried. “Eli? Can I talk to you for a second?”

Eli was concerned, but he was also relieved. A distraction would give him time to get his act together before he encountered Brynne directly.

“Sure,” he said. “What’s up?”

Eric glanced around, clearly reluctant to talk in the midst of a crowd. Whatever was bothering him, it was important—at least, to the boy.

“Mind if we go outside?”

Eli slapped his nephew lightly on one shoulder. “It’s cold out there,” he said, with a grin he hoped was reassuring, “but okay. Let’s go.”

Eric nodded. “I’ll get my coat,” he said. “Carly’s got it, over at the band’s table.”

“Make it snappy,” Eli urged, watching Brynne now.

And she was watching him. Looking a bit worried.

Eli moved his shoulders in a semblance of a shrug and gave Brynne what his niece and nephew called an IDK look. Sara had had to explain to him that IDK was text-speak for “I don’t know.”

Kids. They were changing the freaking language with their acronyms and invented words. Pretty soon, plain old everyday English would be reduced to things like WTF—Eli rather liked that one, actually—and 4EVR and, of course, the ever-popular OMG.

Brynne smiled, and it was a soft, barely perceptible smile that somehow seemed scandalously private, even in that packed, noisy restaurant.

Eli’s blood threatened to catch fire.

Shit, he thought. Maybe it was a good thing he was going to be standing in the cold for a few minutes. Next best thing to an icy shower.

Eric returned, shoving his arms into the sleeves of his ski coat, clutching his phone in one hand.

He scanned the room nervously, and then Eli opened the door for him and they went outside.

The wind bit into Eli’s neck, and he raised his jacket collar against it.

Folks passed them by, coming and going.

Eric, still jumpy, indicated the corner of the building, where there was no foot traffic.

Eli was pretty worried himself by then.

“Eric,” he said, “talk to me.”

Eric thrust the phone at him. “I got this text about half an hour ago,” the boy said. His eyes were huge in his pale face.

Eli took the phone, glanced at the screen.