“It was Doritos. And I am not going to say no.”
She turned away.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said sharply.
“I know,” she answered as she looked over her shoulder at him. “But as long as you don’t make any more bad jokes about buying the farm on my back forty, I’m happy to feed you. Plus, I need something to occupy the next hour and seventeen minutes.”
He frowned and glanced at his watch. “You have something you need to do at nine?”
“You don’t go to bed before nine.” She stepped into her house. “It’s like people who refuse to have a glass of wine before five. It’s a tent pole in the day. After nine, I can collapse and try to sleep.”
“Do you have the same kind of rigid rule for waking up?”
“Never before four a.m.” She motioned with her hand. “Are you coming in?”
He held up both his forefingers. “Wait, are you saying four-fifteen is in play? For wake up?”
“Yup.”
Shaking his head, he stepped over the threshold. “Man, I’m surprised you don’t go to bed at seven-thirty.”
“Looks like we were destined to have dinner together, huh.”
As Daniel bit into the sandwich Lydia had cobbled together out of the remains of her last three nights of non-eating, she sipped her tea. It was funny how much he filled the house up. Even though he was just in the kitchen, it was as if he were in all the rooms at the same time.
“I think this is linner, actually.” When he cocked an eyebrow, she shrugged. “Lunch as dinner. Linner. Because let’s face it, it’s better than ‘dunch.’ ”
As Daniel’s mouth twitched, he lowered his head, like he didn’t want the smile to be seen. “Who knew, a whole new meal.”
“If you were having your pancakes and eggs and bacon right now, it’d be dinfast.”
“Brinner.”
“See, you totally get it.” She took another draw from her mug. “Is it too damp out there?”
“Tent’s waterproof.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin he’d taken out of the holder. “And before you ask, I’ll be gone at sunrise. There’ll be no sign I was ever there—”
“I want to ask you something.”
His eyes flashed up at her, but his face remained relaxed. Then again, she had to wonder if he had a speeding semi coming at him whether he’d even twitch. The man had the nervous system of an inanimate object.
And who’d have thought that would be something she’d ever envy.
“Hit me,” he said.
“And you can say no.”
“I realize this.” He took a drink of the milk he’d asked for. “So what have you got for me, Lydia Susi?”
“I want to go to the hotel site.”
Daniel paused in mid-chew. “Okay. And do what?”
“I don’t know. I just want to see what’s there.”
“If you got a pair of binoculars, you can do that from your porch at work.”
She moved her mug around in circles on the table with her forefinger. “I want to find evidence.”
“Of what.”
“Anything.” She gave up any semblance of calmness, and put her head in her hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“If you think trying to fool Eastwind over the deer stand shit was a party, try trespassing over on that hotel property. They’ll have security cameras everywhere, and guards, and—”
“I shouldn’t have brought it up—”
“Oh, I’m in.” As her head lifted, he nodded. “Call me Nancy Drew. But I will say that you need to be careful how far you take this. And you need to be prepared to get caught—”
“We can go in the veil.”
“What’s that?” He finished his last bite and wiped his mouth. “And check me out, I’m learning all kinds of things tonight. Linner. Dinfast. The veil.”
She flushed. “It’s the time right before dawn. When it’s mostly dark, but not completely so. That way, we won’t need flashlights to find our way. And if we wear dark clothing, we’ll be even harder to spot.”
“Okay. When are we going? What night?”
“I’ll come out to you at four-fifteen a.m.” It wasn’t like she was going to be sleeping. “We can—shoot. I don’t have my car, do I.”
The damn thing had been towed back to Paul’s Garage, and Candy had had to give her a ride home from work—after Lydia had spent what remained of the afternoon trying to play normal, and saying nothing about going to Peter’s.
As well as everything else that had happened.
“We’ll go on my bike.” Daniel got up and took his plate over to the sink. “I’m assuming you plan on parking somewhere off the property and hiking in?”
“Yes.”
As he put a little dishwashing soap on her sponge, she found herself watching his hands. They were big. Tanned. Calloused. A working man’s hands, nothing like Rick’s or Peter’s.
They were … sexy hands, actually.
“Well,” he prompted. “Have you?”
Lydia shook herself back to attention—but failed to reroute her eyes from the way the water traveled over his fingers while he rinsed the plate.