Page 57 of Hostile Witness

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Page 57 of Hostile Witness

Ethan glanced up from his menu, seemingly unaware of his effect on the present female company.

The server pulled out her pad and glanced at Tia. “You ready to order?”

Tia nodded. “The crab-cake platter, please, side salad in place of the fries, and a double cheeseburger for our dog.”

Ethan flipped through the menu pages one last time. “I’ll have the same but with a large side of fries.” He handed the waitress their menus and leaned toward Tia. “You look delicious tonight, Miss O’Rourke.”

The waitress offered the faintest mewl as she left.

Tia bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. “I would’ve taken you for a soft-shell crab or raw oysters with hot sauce guy.”

He snickered and waved an index finger. “No and no. I’m very discriminating about body parts that enter my mouth.”

An image of him with her lady bits in his mouth flashed through her mind. She sat bolt upright and squirmed. It had to be the tequila—her face was hot. For goodness’ sake, they were discussing seafood here.

Concern flitted across his expression. “You all right, T?”

She gave his hand a pat. “I’m fine; it’s been a while since I had a mixed drink.”

He gave her an appraising look and got up. “I’ll be right back.” He strode to the tiki bar, said something to the bartender, and returned with a basket of pretzels and peanuts. “Here, nibble on these. I don’t want you going down on me.”

Down on him?The sip she’d just taken caught in her throat. She gasped on the laughter trying to escape. After a few clearing coughs, she peered across the table and burst into laughter again. “Don’t worry. I won’t go down on you.”

Understanding dawned in his eyes, and they morphed to playful and sparkling.

He raised an eyebrow. “A definite double meaning there. How Freudian of me—and you.”

Their waitress walked by. “Would you like another round?”

“Yes, please.” Ethan smiled. “No beer, just two margaritas.”

Tia gulped. “I hope those margaritas aren’t both for me.”

“No, I want one of what you’re drinking, and you need a refill.” He gave her a teasing glance. “You mentioned having questions for me?”

Questions?Oh yeah. “What languages do you speak? Mac mentioned four.”

He took the last draft of his beer and set it aside. “French, Italian, Russian, and Spanish. Next question?”

Tia sat back while the waitress placed their fresh drinks. “How did you learn so many languages?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “My parents both spoke Spanish and Italian, and I learned to join in on the conversation. They’d speak a different language when discussing something they didn’t want me to know, but that didn’t last long. Once they realized I understood them, they taught me more and hired tutors.”

“Forgive me for bringing this up, but I’d like to know. How did you lose your parents? You don’t talk about them.”

“A boating accident when I was ten. I was spending the weekend at a friend’s house, and my grandmother came to pick me up. It was a long time ago. I remember them, but my memories have faded a little.”

Tia slid her hand on top of his. “I’m sorry. That’s a tough loss to bear as a child.”

He slipped his fingers through hers and sipped at his margarita. “My family lived in the Hampden area in Baltimore. After my folks passed, Nan raised me and started clearing out their house. But she’d already retired at the beach and wanted to live here. A year and a half later, she sold my parents’ Baltimore home, and we moved back. After college, I became a police officer in Baltimore, but Nan is older now, and I wanted to be there for her during her later years. I’d no sooner moved back down here than she announced she was moving to assisted living, primarily for the social aspect, although she loves having meals cooked for her. She gave me the house in Fenwick Island near the Painted Ladies on the water.” He stirred his margarita thoughtfully. “Losing my folks really defined me.”

“How so?” Many questions had been whirling through her head.

“When I lost them, I knew I’d spend my life helping people, especially when it came to reuniting families. After the Mayday call, they located the sailboat but not my parents. It used to upset me terribly as a kid. But now, as an adult, I’ve made their loss one of my strengths and get a real kick out of helping people through sticky situations.”

“And you get to do that as a detective?”

A muscle ticked at his jaw. “Sometimes.”




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