Millie groaned.
Scott matched her smile. “I like you, too.”
“Good. Please stay and help my girl, even if she’s not being properly thankful.”
Scott’s grin widened. “I would be delighted to be of assistance.”
“Darn it.” Millie turned and stomped into the house.
* * * *
Millie finished making sandwiches for her and Scott as Roscoe flopped on the country-kitchen floor, looking up at a couple of empty wine bottles holding dried flowers atop the fridge. “Those are empty,” she said. She loved her aunt’s kitchen. The walls were faded yellow, the floor natural wood, and the kitchen table handmade by her father years ago, before his death when she was only two years old.
Scott finished barking orders into his phone; it sounded like he was handing over almost all of his cases to his associates.
“I don’t want you to give up your life for me, even though you did screw up my promotion.” She’d needed that to help out her aunt financially. Even so, she found herself reluctantly impressed by how evenly Scott had dealt with her brother earlier. Most people couldn’t look JT in the eye. Scott had not only watched him carefully, he’d extended his hand in friendship. That took strength.
“I can stay a few days and help you,” he said easily, taking a drink of iced tea and looking around. “I like your house.”
She placed the sandwiches on the cedar table, happy that Aunt Mae had finally agreed to rest for a while. “Don’t tell me. It’s cozy.”
“Cheerful, I was thinking,” he murmured. “What’s the story with your brother?”
Millie sat and reached for her iced tea. “He’s a little cranky.”
“I noticed,” Scott said dryly.
It felt weird having Scott Terentson eating lunch in her sweet country home. The guy could probably get a table at any high-end restaurant right now. Unlike her. She still wore the baggy clothing she’d borrowed at the police station. It felt like too much effort to go change.
“You grew up here with your aunt?” Scott took a man-size bite of the ham sandwich.
She probably did owe him some sort of background information. “Yeah—she’s our great-aunt. My parents died in a helicopter accident on vacation in Hawaii when I was two and JT was seven,” she said softly. “We were shuffled around for years because Aunt Mae was older, single, and usually broke. Finally, when nobody else would take us, Aunt Mae won and raised us both.”
Scott’s eyebrows rose. “So Mae runs this whole outfit herself?”
Millie nodded. “She hires help during the busy season, but she’s always done it herself. I’m hoping now that JT has been discharged, he’ll want to take over the business, but so far, he seems moody and undecided. We grew up helping in summers during college. Even now, I take a vacation during parts of the summer when Aunt Mae needs more bodies.”
“Fascinating. I never would have thought that you liked the outdoors.”
She chuckled, her body finally relaxing. “I love the outdoors, but I also love gadgets. So it’s worked out.”
“Your aunt didn’t have to give me the spare bedroom,” he said. “I know it’s a small house. I don’t want to move JT out.”
“Oh no, JT doesn’t stay in the main house. He likes sleeping under the stars, and only sleeps in the bunkhouse during rough weather. He actually doesn’t like being inside very often.”
To his credit, Scott didn’t ask any more questions. Which was good because Millie figured if JT wanted Scott to know his story, he’d tell it himself. Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out of the heavy sweats.
“Millie Frost,” she answered.
“Hey, Mills, it’s the chief.”
She put down her glass, the hair on her arms rising. “Oh, hi Chief,” she said. “Did you get the results from the hospital?”
“I did. They didn’t find anything in your blood.”
Her shoulders dropped. “I was afraid of that.”
“Yeah, me too,” he said. “You still might have been drugged with GHB—it exits the body very quickly.”
