Mae turned. “What?”
As one, they all swiveled to look at Roscoe, who lounged by the refrigerator. If any one of them had been wearing that argyle pattern, the dog would’ve leaped across the room and sunk his teeth into the material. Instead, he crouched and gingerly padded across the kitchen as if he’d turned into a stealthy predator.
“Roscoe,” Millie said in warning.
The dog didn’t react but instead continued toward Mae. Then he gingerly sank his teeth into her apron. He didn’t pull or unbalance her in any way. He just patiently waited.
Mae looked down at the dog. “What in the world?”
“It’s that pattern.” The pattern was a crisscross of argyle. Millie reached over and untied the apron. “Duck your head, Aunt Mae.”
Her great-aunt complied, and Millie drew off the offending garment. The second the frock came loose, Roscoe growled and tore the apron away from the women to run across the kitchen and attack the fabric.
Mae’s eyes widened. “What is happening with that dog?”
Millie shook her head. “We don’t know. An explosion injured Roscoe when he served as a soldier, and somehow he saw this type of pattern in the area. Angus believes the design covered the vest of another soldier, but regardless, whenever Roscoe sees the pattern, he shreds the material. He must really like you, Aunt Mae. I’ve never seen him react so calmly before.”
Scott watched the dog obliterate the fabric. “He is getting better, isn’t he?”
“No,” Wolfe murmured. “I wore socks with the design, and he nearly took off my ankle last week. He showed only gentleness with Mae.” Wolfe winked. “We should all be gentle with beautiful women.”
“Oh you.” Mae threw out a hand. “You’re just too sweet.” She reached into the cookie jar. “Would you like another cookie, Wolfe?”
“I would love another cookie,” Wolfe said, on his best behavior.
Scott’s back teeth ached from Wolfe acting like a choir boy. “Mae,” he said. “Let me clean up. You cooked dinner. You get to go rest.”
While the woman seemed cheerful, her eyes betrayed fatigue and her shoulders slightly stooped. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes,” he said firmly, gently taking her by the shoulders and turning her toward the living room. “Otherwise, I’ll feel absolutely useless.”
She hesitated. “In that case—”
“I do need to earn the cookies,” he said. “You gave me several.”
“I’m so glad you like my cookies, Scotty.” She patted his chest. “Maybe I will go rest.”
Millie shot him a grateful look and put her arm around her aunt’s shoulders. “Come on, Aunt Mae.”
JT stood and sidled to the kitchen door. “So long as you’re cleaning up, Terentson. Have a good night.” Without waiting for a response, he disappeared outside.
“Smart guy,” Brigid said, smiling. “I’ll help you, Scott.” She stood and carried several of the plates to the sink.
“I’ll pick a movie,” Wolfe said, standing and prowling as only he could toward the living room. “I’ve had enough of work today. We’re done working. We’re going to watch a movie.”
Scott didn’t have the appetite for a movie, but he was weary of thinking about murder and suspects. He could be honest with himself that he wondered about Wolfe’s choice of movies.
He and Brigid rapidly set the kitchen to rights before he wandered into the living room, where Millie had saved him a seat next to her on the love seat. A thump echoed through his heart. It had been a long time since he felt a part of a team like this. Even at his law office, he stayed in charge, and he often felt alone. This was different.
He sat next to Millie and put an arm over her shoulders. “What are we watching?” he asked, almost afraid of the answer.
“Maverick,” Wolfe said happily. “I’ve only seen it fourteen times.”
“Good choice,” Scott mused, pulling Millie to him and extending his legs on the ottoman. He could get used to this.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The sound of a phone buzzing and bouncing across her bedside table had Millie blinking sleepily awake. She’d fallen asleep in the middle of the second movie the night before, something to do with a dog on vacation. She yawned, not remembering how she’d gotten to bed.
