“Yeah,” Brando said, his voice betraying nothing. “Too bad.”
Casual enough, but I knew my husband. There was nothing casual about him. He’d maim or kill innocent Chris if he attempted to get in his way—no one or nothing would stop him from taking Nemours’s life.
A moment of silence passed, and then Chris shook his head, raised his hand and let it fall. I seized the moment to interrupt wherever his mind was going.
“How is the sheriff?”
“Oh.” He blinked at me, as though he had forgotten all about that detail. “Fine. The wife and kids are keeping his mind occupied. He’s thinking about retiring.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” my voice came out soft, sincere. Even though the sentiment was meant two-fold.
A new sheriff meant a new start for us. If,if, Chris held the position. If Scott got it—our lives would get undoubtedly more complicated. Where the sheriff walked the line, his nephew blatantly crossed it in the name of his good opinion when it came to my husband.
Thinking of all the issues we could face, I started to tremble. Brando held me tighter, as solid as a wall.
“Well—” Chris turned toward his car, then back toward us. He stuck a thumb in the same direction. “I better get going. The wife and I are having a date night. Same for ya’ll?”
“No doubt,” Brando said, and his words were meant two-fold. A definite sarcastic tone to the comment that I didn’t miss, even if Chris did. “We’re going to hang around the house and talk.”
“Is that something new?” Chris eyed him blankly. “Like—” He snapped his fingers. “Whatever it is the young people do. Chill while watching movies?”
“Last time I checked, it’s what mature people do, Chris. Talk.”
Oh, that dig was aimed right at me. I went to step out of his embrace, but he refused. Since I didn’t want to make a scene, I stayed put, my heart hammering.
Chris looked dubious at this prospect. The idea of Brando Fausti talking to any woman didn’t make sense to a town that knew him for a man with superpowers when it came to having women in his bed.
“Well, ya’ll have funtalking.”
My cheeks flamed, and Chris noticed. He smiled at me.
He turned to go, but then he turned back, clearing his throat. “It was hell on me to find you both the way I did.”
A growl emanated from somewhere deep down in Brando’s chest, a clear warning that Chris didn’t take.
“Chris—”
He held up his hand, stopping me before I could fully interrupt. Whatever he meant to say had to be said.
“Go on,” I whispered. “I don’t—I don’t remember what happened directly after. You were the one who found me in the car?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Brando did. After he stopped the madman from killing the sheriff, he collapsed against you, not willing to let you go. It was…” He hesitated, sniffed, but composed himself. “Something I’ll never forget. I had my doubts—about the two of you. Saturday and Sunday. That’s what Lewis used to say. The little graceful dancer with this—” He grinned at Brando. “I was wrong. What I saw, that was pure love. No other word to describe it. Never saw anything like it before—felt anything like it. Doubt I ever will again.”
Chris shuffled his feet a bit, the look on his face clear—he wanted to say more but had no idea how to.
The air out of Brando’s nose came out like a lion’s breath as he prepared for a fight. Hotter than the outside air. He was close to running Chris off the porch.
Nothing more to add, though, Chris wished us a good time again and started for his car. He had said enough.
My hand was still raised in goodbye when he pulled out of the driveway, disappearing down the road that led to home.
Brando cleared his throat and released me from his hold. “We’re going to talk.”
Reclaiming my seat, I settled in, thankful for the support beneath me.
* * *
He moved away from me,closer to the end of the porch, looking out.
