Angels Fall

He could say the most unexpected things. So she smiled at him, and let the glow of it warm her while thev ate.

Chapter 15
     
    SHE INSISTED on clearing up. He'd expected that, as she was a woman who liked to put, and to keep, things in their place. He'd have laid odds she had that tendency before the violence in Boston— where she'd probably kept a tidy house, and a tidy kitchen personally and professionally. She'd always know where the midsized mixing bowl was, and her favorite blue shirt, her car keys. Her checkbook would always be balanced.
    What had happened to her had. in all likelihood, spotlighted and enhanced her organizational bent. At this point in her life, she not only wanted but needed things in their place. It would give her a sense of security.
    For himself, most days he figured he was doing pretty well if he could find matching socks on the first pass.
    Because he could see she wouldn't be satisfied otherwise, he dried off dishes, put them back in the cupboard. But he largely stayed out of her way while she stored leftovers, boxed up her equipment, scrubbed off his stove.
    Nerves were coming back, and she'd gone very quiet with them. He could practically see them popping out on her skin like hues as she rinsed out the dishcloth, twisted the water out of it, laid it over the middle lip of the double sink to dry.
    He supposed now that the meal was over, and the cleanup nearly done, sex had stumbled back into the room like an interesting and awkward guest.
    He considered just grabbing her, hauling her upstairs and into bed before she thought about it. There was an advantage to the technique, and he could probably have her naked before she changed her mind. But he rejected it, at least for the moment, in favor of a more subtle approach.
    '"Want to take a walk? Down to the lake, maybe?"
    And he saw the combination of surprise and relief on her face. "That'd be nice. I haven't done that yet, not on this side anyway.
    "It's a clear night, so there's light enough. But you'll need your jacket."
    "Right." She stepped into the utility room to take hers off the peg.
    He moved in behind her, deliberately reaching over her for his. She stiffened at the light brush of bodies, sidestepped and reached for the door.
    Her nerves pumped once, like a pulse, then seemed to evaporate into the cool air.
    "It's gorgeous out." She breathed it in, soaked it in, earth and pine. "I haven't been able to talk myself into a solo walk at night. I think about it though." She pulled her jacket on as she walked. "But it's either too quiet or not quiet enough, and I come up with a dozen reasons why I should head straight up to my apartment after a dinner shift."
    "Mostly towners around this time of year at night. Not much to worry about there."
    "Obviously you don't know about the crazed psychopath hiding in the marsh, the serial rapist just passing through town or the kindly math teacher who, in actuality, is an ax murderer."
    "I guess I missed them."
    She glanced up at him as it considering, then shrugged. "One night last week I was restless and wanted a walk. I actually thought about taking my serving fork with me, in case I had to defend myself against any or all of my imaginary homicidal maniacs."
    "A serving fork."
    "Yeah. A knife seemed a little too over the top. But you could do some damage if you had to with a decent serving fork. But I decided against it and watched an old movie on TV instead. It's ludicrous. I'm ludicrous. Why do you want to hang around with me, Brody?"
    "Maybe I find neurotic women hot."
    "No, you don't." But she laughed, shook back her hair to take a look up at the sky. "My God, it's so big, so clear. I can see the Milky Way. I think that's the Milky Way. And both Dippers, which is about it for my constellation knowledge."
    "Don't look at me. I just see a bunch of stars, and a white, waning moon."
    "So?" Because he hadn't taken her hand, and she doubted he was the type for a lot of hand-holding, she slid her own into her jacket pockets. "Make one up. You're in the business of making things up."
    Hooking his thumbs in his jeans pockets, he studied the pattern of stars. "There's the Lonely Herman—or the Fat Man Standing on One Leg. Over to the west, there's the Goddess Sally, who guards over all fry cooks."
    "Sally? And here, all this time, I didn't know I had a patron goddess."
    "You're no fry cook."
    "Right now, I am. Besides, I want Sally for my own. Look how she shines in the water."
    Stars swam in the