She didn’t look at Johnny as she added the bag of his premixed spices to the pan of black beans, adjusting the heat underneath them as she stirred. She listened to him chop, thankful for the even, rhythmic beat of blade against board.
“You’re the one who always wants to do things on the up-and-up,
to cross all the t’s and dot all the i’s. And finally having found Jackson, I don’t want to do anything that might make me seem less than...”
She barely registered his lack of chopping before she felt his hands on her arms. “It’s okay, Tabitha.” His easy tone settled the tension building inside her while his hands distracted her from the reason for that tension.
Johnny’s touch...it always did that to her. Distracted her. And reassured her.
“You don’t have to sound so defensive or feel like you need to convince me. Finding Jackson—how we do it, that’s your call.”
It was part of their agreement. He called the food truck shots. She called her own.
And suddenly she didn’t want to. Not without his input. Not now that they’d found Jackson. Her son was so close, yet not really within her reach.
“I want to tell her,” she said again. “She seems to truly care. The way she talked about her hours, working late at night after everyone leaves, and if she’s there during the day, which by what she said she is... I get the feeling that The Bouncing Ball is way more than a business to her.”
“Again, I’m not arguing.” He’d moved back to his board but wasn’t chopping. They had a prep time limit, one he was going to miss if he didn’t get going. Which could mean they’d lose their prime parking spot.
“I think she’ll help us,” Tabitha said, a spoon in each hand as she stirred both pans of beans. It had only taken her a week to get her prep responsibilities down to a science. When she glanced at him, he quickly looked from her to his board.
He’d been watching her.
“What?” she asked, watching him now. Stirring beans didn’t require constant vigilance like wielding the knife did.
He shrugged and she suddenly wondered what those shoulders looked like in a suit coat. Probably not as good as they did in the tight-fitting polo shirt. They’d be as strong, though. As supportive.
“Tell me what you’re thinking. Please. I’m asking because I need to know.” About Jackson. And the next move in her quest.
“Mallory’s first loyalty will likely be to Jason’s father. She clearly had sympathy for him and appears to hold him in high regard.”
“You’re basing that on what?” she asked. The side of his clean-shaven face told her very little, except that he wasn’t smiling.
“The warmth in her voice as she mentioned him, for one.”
“You think she has a thing for him?” She hadn’t gotten that impression at all.
“No. She just seemed...fond of them as clients and might try to protect them.”
“You think she’ll tell him?”
“I think it’s a possibility you should consider.”
“And by the time I convince her I’m right, Mark will be gone...with Jackson.”
She knew what his shrug meant that time.
“I see the risk, I just wish we could tell her.” She turned back to the beans.
“Then let’s find something convincing enough to allow us to do that.”
Tabitha’s heart gave a lurch at the supportive tone in his voice. She looked at him, needing him more than ever. Needing him to know that.
And to need her, too.
He was busy chopping meat.
* * *