Free Heartache and Hope by Mary Manners Page A

famished. How about you? We can grab something to eat while we hash out the details.”
    Hash out the details…yeah, that just about nails it on the head.
    Daylin’s appetite played hide and seek as she shucked from her coat once again, her gaze connecting with Patrick’s. Though she fought for levity, knowing with her head that he was just acting as the team leader attempting to make a newcomer feel welcome, her heart did a little two-step when she realized the diner crowd had thinned to nothing—not another customer in the place. She and Patrick were alone.
    Except for Vera, who had her back turned to them as she worked on restocking a tray of small, white ceramic holders with colorful packets of artificial sweetener and disposable creamer cups. Her lighthearted whistling skimmed over the flow of music drifting from the speakers. Daylin wasn’t sure, but the tune sounded like some snappy rendition of Amazing Grace .
    Daylin thought of Aubree and of her purpose for being here tonight in this all-but-vacant diner with Patrick. They had things to discuss, details to knit together. She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze head-on. “OK, then. Let’s start hashing.”
    ****
    “Have you had dinner?” Patrick asked as they settled into the booth. Daylin’s perfume, a subtle floral scent infused with a hint of citrus, drifted as she piled her purse atop her coat in the seat beside her.
    “No, but I’m not all that hungry now. Coffee would be nice, though.”
    “Would you mind if I grabbed something quick? These meeting nights always seem to sneak up on me, and I worked right through dinner with Aubree’s bath and then preparing my notes and the handouts.” Patrick sighed while patting his midsection. “The truth is, I’ve got this lion in my gut that’s going to start roaring soon if I don’t feed him.”
    “Go ahead.”
    Daylin laughed at his offhanded humor. The sound eased guitar-string-tight nerves that thrummed through his system. A waterfall of hair spilled across her brow, framing wide-set eyes that seemed to drink in every nuance. The peach-colored sweater she wore looked warm and soft to the touch, like a rich crème against her dark-chocolate eyes.
    Patrick shook his head to clear thoughts that compared her to exquisite foods. Man, I must be hungrier than I thought. I’d better get on it.
    “What does a long-distance runner eat, anyway?” Daylin’s voice broke in.
    “I’m not sure about the rest of them, but I try to take in all the important food groups—burgers, fries, apple pie.”
    “You eat all that and still look like…”—her gaze drifted over him in a slow sweep of appreciation—“ that?”
    “Running is the greatest furnace I know. Whatever you ingest, pounding the pavement is sure to burn it.”
    “Easy for you to say.” Daylin rolled her eyes and flattened her palms over the tabletop. “You’re a guy. You have it easy. Women have to work for every ounce. Something about the whole metabolism thing just doesn’t seem fair.”
    “It works all the way around. You’ll see.” His gaze swept over her. “Not that you have anything to worry about in that department.”
    “I beg to differ.” Daylin shifted in the seat and lowered her gaze. “But I’m a work in progress.”
    “Aren’t we all?”
    “Some more than others.”
    “Wow…you’re still as much of a firecracker as I remember.” Patrick shook his head. “Just like a rewind back in time. That’s good…that attitude will come in handy as you travel toward the finish line.”
    “It’s sure to be a long journey.”
    “But one you don’t have to travel alone.” Patrick rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. “We’re in this together, remember? No man…um, woman…left behind. Not on my watch.”
    Vera, who’d graciously kept the coffee flowing during the meeting, approached their booth. She’d worked hard to make each of the meeting attendees feel welcome, and Patrick deeply appreciated the effort.
    “Hi