Hidden Shadows (The Shadow Series Book 1)

ONE

"Those are great shoes." Jenna Gregor tried to relax her tense smile as she stared across the table at the big man wearing a big cowboy hat.

She was mildly surprised by his wardrobe choice since they were dining at The Palm—a well-to-do restaurant in downtown Nashville—but she remained polite, cordial, and deliberately open-minded. This was their first date and first meeting after all.

"My three-year-old son has a pair almost identical." She gestured down to his brown leather loafers—another odd choice, especially with the cowboy hat.

With a grunt, a gargle of his throat, and forced swallow of steak, he stared at her, red-faced.

"A little boy, huh?"

She nodded with pride. "Turned three this summer."

He swallowed again, stained the cloth napkin by wiping his mouth, and spoke as briskly as his drawl would allow. "Well, Jenna, don't think I was aware of that. I knew about your girl, but she's growin' up. I can handle a do-it-yourself kid, but one that needs bathin', clothin', and a nightly changin' of sheets 'cause they don't know how to hold their own bladder—that makes for a whole new ballgame."

Appalled, she arched her brows. "A ballgame you're not interested in playing."

"Pretty much." He shrugged, resigned to the fact.

And that was that.

"Well, pretty much, this date is over." She smiled dryly, rose—and forgetting her earlier manners, said a few more choice words that also turned a few heads—grabbed her purse, and marched out the door.

The cool night air did nothing to cool her temper. Under the valet's curious stare, Jenna waved him off as politely as she could and made her way to the miraculous parking spot she'd found down Fifth Avenue.

Shimmying her skirt up her thighs to slide into the car, she glanced at the Bridgestone Arena across the street, wishing she had taken Robin up on her offer to see Faith and Tim there tonight. Definitely would've been a more productive, and much more fun evening.

"What was I thinking?" she mumbled as she turned the ignition of her midnight blue Sentra.

The car grumbled to a start and she eased out of her parking spot, rolled down the window to feel the first hints of fall.

At least she could count on the weather.

One of her favorite things about living below the Mason-Dixon Line was the changing seasons. While some argued that global warming had caused winter to practically disappear, any Tennessean would tell you that after the humid, sticky days of summer, fall came in all its glory. She could give or take winter—but not her prized autumn.

The fresh smell to the air made her want to breathe in life, the crisp leaves changed to magnificent colors and floated from their trees, and the chill nipped just enough to need a light jacket. It was hands down her favorite time of year—so the sunroof came open too.