“I was about to nuke a pizza.”

“Interested in a burger?”

“Always.”

Twenty minutes later, I parked on the street in front of his house and got out of the car, a fast-food bag in one hand, drink tray in the other. Again, his mother’s Saab was in the driveway, but this time the door was closed.

I crossed the small, neat yard and stepped onto the porch, but Nash opened the front door before I could knock. “Hey, come on in.” He took the drinks and held the door open, and I stepped past him into a clean, sparsely decorated living room.

Nash set the cups on an end table and stuffed his hands in his pockets while I looked around. His mother’s furniture wasn’t new or as upscale as Aunt Val’s, but it looked much more comfortable. The hardwood floor was worn but spotless, and the entire house smelled like chocolate-chip cookies.

At first I assumed the scent was from a candle like the ones Aunt Val lit at Christmas, to give the impression that she knows how to bake. But then I heard an oven door creak open to the left of the living room, and that cookie-scent swelled. Mrs. Hudson was actually baking.

When my gaze returned to Nash, I found him looking at my shirt, but in amusement, rather than real interest. Which is when I realized I was still wearing my Ciné uniform. Way to dress the part, Kaylee…

Nash laughed when he saw my surprise, then gestured toward a narrow hallway branching off the living room. “Come on…” But before he’d taken two steps, the swinging door into the kitchen opened, and a slim, well-proportioned woman appeared in the doorway, barefoot, in snug jeans and a blue-ribbed tee.

I’m not sure what I’d expected Nash’s mom to look like, but this woman did not fit the bill. She was young. Like, thirty. But that couldn’t be right, because Nash was eighteen. She wore her long, dark blond curls pulled into a simple ponytail, except for a few ringlets that had fallen to frame her face.

She could have been his older sister. His very hot older sister. Aunt Val would hate her….

When Mrs. Hudson’s eyes found mine, the world seemed to stop moving. Or rather, she stopped moving. Completely. As if she weren’t even breathing. I guess I wasn’t what she’d expected either. Nash’s exes were all beautiful, and I bet none of them had ever come over in a shapeless purple polo with the Ciné logo embroidered on one shoulder.

Regardless, the intense way she stared at me unnerved me, like she was trying to read my thoughts in my eyes, and I had an unbearable urge to close them in case that’s exactly what she was doing. Instead, I clutched the fast-food bag in both hands and returned her look with a frank one of my own, because she didn’t look angry. Only very curious.

After several uncomfortable seconds, she flashed a beautiful, un-motherly smile and nodded, as if she approved of whatever she’d seen in me. “Hi,Kaylee, I’m Harmony.” Nash’s mom wiped her right hand on the front of her jeans, leaving a faint, palm-shaped smudge of flour, then stepped forward and reached out for mine. I shook her hand hesitantly. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

She’d heard about me?

I glanced up to see Nash scowling at his mother, and had the distinct impression I’d just missed him shaking his head, or shooting her some other silent “shut up!” signal.

What was I missing?

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Hudson.” I suppressed the urge to wipe residual flour onto my work pants.

“Oh, it’s not Mrs.” Her smile softened, though her eyes never left mine. “It’s been just me and Nash for years now. What about you, Kaylee? Tell me about your parents.”

“I…um…”

Nash’s fingers folded around mine and I let him pull me close. “Kaylee needs to borrow my computer.” He gestured to the grease-stained bag I still held in one hand. “We’re gonna eat while we work.”

For a moment, Ms. Hudson looked like she might object. Then she shot Nash a stern smile. “Leave the door open.”

Nash mumbled a vague acknowledgment, then headed down the short, dim hallway with the drink tray. Still speechless, I followed him, the fast-food bag clutched to my chest.

Nash’s room was casual and comfortable, and I liked it instantly. His bed was unmade, and his desk was cluttered with CDs, Xbox games, and junk-food wrappers. The TV was on, but he hit the power button as he passed it, and whatever he’d been watching flashed into a silent black screen.

His desk chair was the only one in the room, and the open can of Coke on the desk said he was sitting there. For a moment, I froze like a rabbit in the crosshairs, staring at the bed, the only other place to sit, while my pulse whooshed in my ears.

Nash laughed and pushed the door to within an inch of closed, waving toward the bed with his empty hand. “It’s not gonna fold up into the wall.”

I was more worried about it swallowing me whole. And I couldn’t help wondering how many girls had sat there before me….

Finally embarrassed into action, I shoved aside an unopened chemistry book and sat on the edge of the bed, already digging in the paper bag. “Here.” I handed him a burger and a carton of fries.

He set the food on the desk and sank into the chair, jiggling the mouse until his monitor flared to life. “What are we looking for?” he asked, then folded a fry into his mouth.

I unwrapped my own burger, considering how best to phrase my answer. But there was no good way to put what I had to say. “Another girl died tonight. At the Ciné in Arlington. A guy I work with was there, and he said she just fell over dead, holding a bag of popcorn.”