The Journal: Fault Line (The Journal Book 5) by Deborah D. Moore Page B

good,
actually.” She smiled at him. “And thank you, I’m really hungry! I
haven’t eaten yet today. It was thoughtful of you to bring dinner
with you, though I wasn’t expecting our first date to be an in-home
pizza party.” She stopped, realizing she said this was their first date .
    “Um... we can go out if you prefer,” he
offered.
    “No, no, this is fine. This is great, in
fact.” She looked down, embarrassed. “Look, Trevor, I slipped up
calling this a date. I’m sorry. I know you were just concerned.”
She took a long swallow from the beer he handed her, not meeting
his eyes.
    “Christine,” he stepped closer, “this is a date. A bit different than what I was planning,
although I’m not unhappy about it.” He touched his beer bottle to
hers and took a drink. “Not knowing your preferences yet, I brought
a cheese and pepperoni pizza and one with everything; one sub is
vegetarian and one is double meat; and the wine is a California red
blend.”
    “Wait, how did you know where I lived?”
    “Oh, yeah.” He dug into his jacket pocket and
handed her driver’s license to her. “Here, you left this behind
last night.”
    They took the pizza boxes to the coffee table
in the living room. Trever sat on the floor to eat, and Christine
retrieved two more beers from the fridge, a bottle of wine, a cork
opener, two glasses, and set them on the table.
    She sat on the floor with Trever. “There, now
we don’t have to get up again.”
    “How was your day?” Trevor asked. “Are you
feeling better?”
    “I spent most of the day sleeping. That was
after I went to the office and had a bit of an argument with my
boss.” She told him about the conversation with the office
manager.
    “Your co-worker actually died there? Wow.
That must be really upsetting.” He put his hand over hers.
    “Yes, it is. I didn’t really like Lois,
though I didn’t dislike her either. Fact is, I barely know… knew
her. All this has left me in a daze, to be honest.” She took a bite
of pizza and washed it down with some wine. “By the way, why is the
T’N’M’s on Main closed? I thought the stores were open 6:00am to
midnight.”
    “To conserve the stock in the stores.”
    “You must be a trusted employee to have that
information,” she commented.
    “Christine, I own the stores,” he
confessed. “The T’N’M stands for Trevor Nicolas Monroe. That’s
me.”
    “Oh.”
    “Does that bother you?” he asked
cautiously.
    “Not at all. It’s just a surprise because
you’re so young.”
    “Thirty-five isn’t all that young. Besides,
you have a successful career at thirty, right?” he continued. “More
wine?”
    “Thanks. Now, explain to me what you mean
about conserving the stores’ stock. Don’t you get regular
shipments?”
    “Ah, now that’s the kicker. With this
earthquake happening—and my sales have jumped through the roof by
the way—I called my suppliers for an extra delivery. Apparently all
shipping has come to a halt. Nothing can get over the Mississippi
River right now. No shipping means no deliveries, and no deliveries
mean no food for any stores, big or small.”
    He went silent while that sunk in.
    “I hadn’t thought about it that way. What are
people going to do?” Christine asked in alarm.
    “Let me ask you this, Christine. What are you going to do?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe I should go into
Indianapolis and do some grocery shopping at one of the bigger
stores; stock up on a few things.”
    “The bigger the city, the bigger the
problems. If you do decide to go in, please let me go with you. I
don’t think it’s going to be safe for anyone, especially not a
pretty girl.”
    “You think I’m pretty?” she asked, the wine
making her bold.
    “No, you’re not pretty; you’re beautiful.” He
leaned across the narrow wooden table and gently touched his lips
to hers. “There may be an alternative shopping trip. I’m going to
need help to discreetly move all my stock into one