“Thank you,” Mary murmured, catching a glimpse of the colorful afghan out of the corner of her eye before he was gone. Several more minutes passed with sounds coming from the back. It was long enough that Mary began to think he’d sat down at the table to eat, but then he suddenly appeared next to her and settled in the passenger seat. Bailey followed and immediately settled in her usual spot between the two seats. It was only then that Mary realized the dog had abandoned her in favor of their guest. She didn’t know whether to be insulted, or be glad Bailey approved of the man. Bailey didn’t like many people. If Bailey thought Dante was okay, then Mary’s own judgment was being supported. It was nice to have that backup.
“I made you a sandwich too,” Dante announced, and then glanced from her to the road and asked, “Do you want me to feed you?”
Mary’s eyes widened at the offer, but she quickly shook her head, shaking away the images that question brought to mind: Dante kneeling on the floor beside her, holding a sandwich in front of her mouth for her to bite from. Good Lord, how could that seem erotic? she wondered with dismay.
“No. I can manage,” she said and then paused to clear her throat when she heard how croaky she sounded. Good Lord.
Dante set a plate with a sandwich and chips on the dashboard next to the GPS, then settled in his own seat properly and set his own plate on his lap as he did up his seat belt.
Mary chanced a glance at her plate, her eyes widening incredulously at the size of the sandwich. Dear God, the man had stacked it so full of meat and vegetables that she’d have to have an expanding jaw like a snake to eat the darned thing. She switched her gaze to him to say as much, only to pause and stare wide-eyed at the four sandwiches he’d made himself, all even bigger than her own. Dante had one hell of an appetite.
“Eyes on the road,” he said and Mary automatically turned forward, but had to wonder how he’d known she was looking. Dante had been concentrating on his plate as he lifted one of the sandwiches to his mouth and couldn’t have seen her looking.
Leaving the sandwich for now, she picked up her coffee instead and took a cautious sip. As expected, it was hot, but it was also darned good and exactly what she needed just then.
“Why are you traveling alone?”
Mary glanced to him with surprise, but quickly turned her gaze back to the road. She was slow to answer the question, however, and after a moment, asked, “What do you mean?”
“Most women would not travel alone in an RV, yet you are,” he pointed out and then asked simply, “Why?”
Mary sighed and set her coffee back in its holder, before saying dryly, “Good question. That’s one I’ve asked myself several times this trip.”
“I do not understand,” Dante said and she could hear the frown in his voice.
Grimacing, she switched mental gears and pointed out, “I’m not completely alone. I have Bailey. Besides, there are lots of women who travel alone in their RVs.”
Mary wasn’t sure if that was true, but she’d met one or two women traveling alone on this trip and had been assured that there were many more than you’d expect. Personally, Mary wasn’t sure that was true. She didn’t see the attraction herself. This trip had been terribly depressing for her and had pretty much convinced her that she should sell the RV when she got home. But perhaps that was just because of the memories it stirred to life in her. She had found herself constantly reminded of past trips with her dear departed husband during this outing, and missing him horribly. She’d even left early because of it, heading home a week earlier than planned just to bring it to an end.
“How long have you been doing this?” Dante asked curiously.
Mary was silent for a minute and then said, “My husband and I have been driving south for the winter ever since he retired six years ago.” She frowned and added, “Well, I guess we both retired then. At least I stopped seeing clients. Although I still sit on several boards that I am involved with. I attend the meetings when home and skype with members while travelling.”
“You are married?”
Startled by the strangled tone to his voice, Mary glanced to Dante with surprise. The horror on his face made her eyebrows rise slightly, but she shifted her attention back to the road and said quietly, “I was. I am widowed now. Joe had a major heart attack and died on our return journey last year.” Hearing the beginning of huskiness in her voice, she cleared her throat, before adding, “This was my first trip alone. And my last,” she added dryly.
Silence stretched out between them briefly and then Dante murmured a quiet, “My sympathies for your loss.”
Mary nodded stiffly, suddenly having to battle back tears. She’d managed to get the information out without losing it, but he offered her his sympathies and she was hard put not to cry like a baby. Damn, this grief business was a tricky bitch, sneaking up on her at the most inopportune times.
Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, Mary quickly dashed the back of one wrist over her eyes to remove the few tears that had escaped. Apparently her upset didn’t escape Dante, because he suddenly murmured, “Perhaps I should take over driving.”
“No!” Mary barked, her mind filling with a sudden image of his sitting in her lap with nothing but the ridiculous afghan covering, or not covering, his bits while she tried to slip out from under him. Good God! Trying for a calmer tone of voice, she said, “No, but thank you. I’ll be fine.”
Dante was silent for a minute, and then murmured, “If you are sure . . . ?”
“I’m sure,” she said solemnly, and then changed the subject, asking, “How did you end up working for the Feds?”
“The Feds?” Dante queried uncertainly.
Mary glanced to him with surprise, but then turned her gaze back to the road and said, “I assumed since this was a kidnapping case, that the task force you were helping out was federal. Isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes, I see,” he murmured and then cleared his throat and said, “My brother and I volunteered.”
“Really?” she asked with surprise. “So you aren’t a fed yourself?”
“No,” he murmured.
“What do you do then?” she asked curiously.
Dante hesitated and then shrugged. “Some protection work, some other things. Whatever is needed.”
“I see,” she said slowly, and thought the translation of that was probably that he was mostly unemployed. There seemed to be a lot of that today. When she’d been young, most people had graduated from high school to go on to further education, work, or sometimes—for the girls like her—marriage. There had been perhaps a handful of kids who hadn’t graduated and had fallen by the wayside, but for the most part they were the exception to the rule. Nowadays, it seemed like there were a lot more exceptions to the rule. More of the young seemed to be not settling into work or a career, but wandering through life, mostly unemployed and unsettled, couch surfing their way through life.
Mary grimaced to herself and acknowledged that she was sounding like her own grandmother. She couldn’t recall how many times the woman had started a rant by saying, “when I was young.”
“Tell me about your husband,” Dante said suddenly.
Mary glanced around with surprise at the request and then turned forward again. She opened her mouth to say no, and instead found herself saying, “He was a good man.”
When she didn’t continue, Dante asked, “How did you meet?”
“We were high school sweethearts,” she answered solemnly. “My first kiss, my first date, my first everything.”
He seemed to consider that and then asked, “Do you ever feel like you missed out? Not getting to date other men or experience—?”
“No,” Mary interrupted. She’d been asked the question before. Usually by younger people who seemed horrified that she hadn’t kissed and slept with loads of men before settling down with Joe. “I was very lucky. Some women go their whole life searching for, but never finding their perfect life mate. I was lucky enough to find mine before I was even looking.”
“Life mate?” Dante asked and something about his tone of voice made her glance curiously his way.