Twenty-Three
RIOS
By the time I pulled up to the rental Ford shared with Bree, it was evening but nowhere near dark. July on Hatterwick meant the day hung on like it had something to prove. The sun was still up, bright and stubborn, throwing hard light across the pavement and making heat shimmer over the road.
Evening should’ve meant I could stand down.
My brain didn’t get the memo. Case mode was a bitch. Once it latched on, it didn’t want to let go.
Ford swung the front door open before I even got halfway up the walk. “About time. We’re starving.”
Sawyer was already sprawled in the living room, boots off, like he’d decided the couch was his and the rest of the world could file a complaint. “We weren’t sure if you’d make it.”
I was torn between relief that I’d been able to and frustration that I was able to because the case had stalled out. “I wasn’t gonna miss seeing you assholes.”
I automatically scanned the room, clocking the absence of female energy. “Where are all your girls?”
Ford rocked back on his heels. “My bride to be is at the Brewhouse tonight, ostensibly to confer with Monty about a new beer but really to keep an eye on Ed and the Graybeards to make sure they don’t get into too much trouble.”
“It’s the trouble that keeps them young,” Sawyer insisted.
“Try telling her that. Anyway, Peyton took Keeley and is off with Mimi plotting world domination. Otherwise known as our wedding.”
I snorted. “Are you sure they should be left unsupervised?”
Ford grinned. “Together they are a force of nature. Honestly? Bree’s happy someone else is doing the planning because that’s not her jam. She just wants to be married at the end.”
“Let me just say elopement was pretty great,” Sawyer opined.
Ford pointed at him. “For all that my moms helped you two elope, they have at least minimal expectations of us. There will be a proper wedding, even if it’s small. I’m more focused on finding a house big enough for the three of us plus Keeley. This place is fine, but it’s… tight.”
“Tight like ‘cozy’ or tight like ‘teenager will murder you in your sleep if she trips over the dog again’?” I asked.
Ford’s grin turned into a grimace. “The second one. Although she doesn’t have a leg to stand on considering she keeps sneaking Keeley into her bed. Hopefully, after tourist season is over. Nothing moves here until the island decides it’s done making money off people who don’t live here.”
“Smart,” Sawyer said. “Wait it out.”
Ford pushed off the wall. “Beer?”
“Yes.” Because just now it sounded like a lifeline and not a beverage.
He returned a minute later and started passing out bottles.
I arched a brow at the lack of label. “What are we drinking?”
“One of Monty’s latest creations. They’re testing some for the new bottled line.”
Sawyer squinted at the bottle. “How’s he supposed to know which ones we like?”
“Apparently the bottles are color coded. I can’t remember shit, so you get what you get,” Ford declared.
I took a long pull. Cold. Clean. Bitter at the end in a way that reminded me I was alive. “Bless Monty for being damned good at his job.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Sawyer announced, holding up his bottle.
We tapped with a satisfying clink.
Ford dropped onto the armchair and looked between us. “Food?”
