“When I took over LS Investigations five years ago.”
“What made you go for the change?”
He looked at me with amusement in his eyes and shrugged. “Figured, new career, might as well go all out and change up everything else. I moved down here from where I worked as a ranger and grew tired of the buzz.”
I chuckled. “I need to see pictures of you in a buzz cut.” I couldn’t exactly imagine it, but I knew, whichever way he wore his hair, he’d look perfect. The style would grow to accommodate him, not the other way around.
“I’ve got some pictures at the house. I can show you.”
“Good.” I paused and watched as he climbed out of the truck, before letting Hound out, and then walking around front to the passenger side to open my door for me.
“I’ll take that,” he said, plucking the bowl of brussel sprout and beet salad out of my hand. He frowned. “I still don’t know why you made this.”
Rolling my eyes, I commented, “We’ve been through this.”
“This is Joel’s place. The same damn house I grew up in.”
I pushed out a frustrated breath. “Such a guy. This might be the place where you grew up, but it’s not whereI’mfrom. Anyway, you said Joel likes beets and brussel sprouts.”
Micah nodded but continued to hold his frown. “He’s into vegetables and shit now. Gone paleo or keto or whatever the hell that meat and vegetable diet is.”
I shook my head, and he pressed the door closed and took my left hand into his right, still holding the salad bowl.
“There’re so many now.”
“Right?”
“Get your ass on in here, boy. I done had my door opened for twenty minutes waiting on your slowpoke self. Hot as it is. All the air-conditioned air is escaping right out the door. I’m about to have a stroke,” Joel bellowed as he stepped out of the confines of his home.
“You should be nicer to me, Old Man. I’m the one who's going to be in charge of what fucking nursing home you get put into when the time comes,” Micah quickly retorted.
Joel, who seriously didn’t look a day over forty-five, said, “Nah, fuck that. Waste of money. When it’s time, you take me out back and use Widow Maker on me.”
I curled my eyebrows and looked between Joel and Micah.
“Widow Maker’s the shotgun he keeps out back by the stables.”
“Yup,” Joel responded, bringing my attention back to him. “You tell your guy here he’s in charge of making sure whoever does the job, does it quickly and effectively. Shot right between the eyes.”
“Okay, that’s enough of that. Jodi isn't a fan of guns, so let's change this depressing ass topic. How about we start with hello?” Micah wisely insisted.
Joel chuckled, and it sounded so much like Micah’s laughter, my body reacted by squeezing his hand.
“My apologies, little lady.” Joel dipped his head and then stepped aside, allowing us to enter. “Come in. How’re you doing? My eldest treating you like he should?”
I turned, smiling. “I suppose he is.”
Micah brought our clasped hands up to his lips, kissing the outside of my palm, before lowering them.
“Mm,” Joel stated, pulling at my attention again. “Sounds good.” There was something hidden in his voice. As if he was seeing something for the first time, or figuring out a riddle he’d been trying to solve. “What you got there?” he questioned, jutting his head toward the bowl Micah held.
“Brussel sprouts and beet salad with goat cheese in a homemade vinaigrette dressing,” I announced, feeling proud. I’d found the recipe online and bought everything the day before making for this dinner.
“Sounds delicious. That’ll go perfectly with the marinated elk steaks I tossed out on the grill a few minutes ago. You ever had elk before?”
I nodded. “My grandaddy made it a few times for me as a little girl.”
“Good. Elk will put some meat on your bones,” he grunted.
