He could do that much.
Heshoulddo that much.
And if it meant spending an evening at Grace Hart’s house—working in silence, fixing what had been broken, putting his body between her and danger?—
Well.
He knew her. And she knew him. Intimately.
Luke adjusted his grip on the supplies and headed for his police vehicle.
Grace had never turned him away before now. This—him showing up, fixing the window, making things feel safe again—would remind her where she fit. Where they fit.
The arrangement had worked. It had been easy. Good. And Grace was smart.
She’d get over this phase.
Luke opened the car door and set the supplies inside, already settling into the certainty of it.
He wasn’t courting her.
There was no need.
Grace Hart would be his again. She’d come back to him.
Luke pulledinto Grace’s driveway and cut the engine. Fixing a broken window wasn’t sneaking. Wasn’t hiding. Wasn’t anything that needed explaining.
He grabbed the supplies from the passenger seat and stepped out, letting the door close with a thud. Parking in the driveway felt… fine. Appropriate. He had a reason to be here. A good one.
Luke checked his watch. He’d get the window fixed, make sure everything was secure, and then…
There was no reason he couldn’t slide right back into her bed. She wasn’t immune to him—she never had been.
As he turned toward the house, something down the street caught his eye.
A dark sedan sat half a block away, parked along the curb. Engine off. Windows tinted.
Luke slowed.
He didn’t recognize the car. Didn’t belong to any of the usual neighbors. And he was good at noticing things like that—years of patrol work wired into his bones.
He made a mental note of it.
It might be nothing, he told himself. Still, his shoulders squared as he turned back toward Grace’s front door. He leaned the sheet of plexiglass against the railing.
From inside the house came the unmistakable sound of hammering.
Luke frowned. She should have waited for him. He’d fix the door for her.
He knocked and the hammering stopped. Footsteps approached the door.
Grace opened it—and just like earlier, relief at seeing her unharmed and safe surged through him. Automatic. Instinctive.
“Luke,” she said. She looked startled to see him. Annoyed.
And behind her, from somewhere near the kitchen, the sound of hammering restarted.
Luke's entire body went still. Someone else was already fixing her window. He heard a muttered curse. Another man was fixing her window. Luke’s jaw locked.
