“What?” It took a moment for her thoughts to reset. She shook her head to clear it. “Oh. Yeah.”
“Anything I need to know about?”
She could tell him how she’d sped across town in the middle of the night to catch two raccoons in a dumpster raid. She thought of the bar rod she’d found outside the back door to Zephyr Gallery with its unidentified skull brand. More than likely, it meant nothing. “It was just wildlife doing their thing.”
He frowned. “I set the alarm for a breach at the back door, not motion in the parking lot.”
“It was nothing,” she assured him. “The door was locked. I checked the gallery floor and the office upstairs. There was no sign of an intruder.”
“You checked it out yourself?”
His voice had darkened. So had his eyes. She sighed because she recognized this part of him, too. She saw it all too often with her male cousins. Because she didn’t have brothers of her own, they all felt obligated to protect her. “It was nothing,” she repeated, slower this time.
“You didn’t call anyone?”
“I called Ryan,” she informed him. “He was on a callout so he couldn’t answer. He checked in the next morning to make sure everything was all right.”
“You could’ve called Noah,” he pointed out. “Or Jacob. Your dad or Chay.”
“Nick,” she said, raising her voice slightly. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Nothing actually happened. I told you. It was a glitch.”
He lifted his chin, arms crossed over his chest as he studied her. “Next time, call somebody else.”
She checked the urge to roll her eyes. Her sarcasm was harder to curb. “Yeah, you never know when those raccoons are ready to throw down against someone four times their size.”
“It could’ve been a black bear,” he pointed out. “They’ve been seen around town recently.”
“Sure,” she said, unwilling to engage in this debate with him any longer.
He thrust his pinkie finger toward her. “Pinkie swear you’ll call someone until you get an answer next time.”
Now she did roll her eyes, but offered her pinkie anyway and twined it around his. “Okay, Nick. I pinkie swear I’ll drag someone out of bed to spy on trash pandas with me.”
He shook it, binding her to the pledge. “Weird things have been happening around Dark Canyon over the last few months. People have started locking their doors for the first time in years. This may no longer be the safe environment we’ve counted on all our lives.”
She knew that—had thought of that herself. “I’ll call,” she promised.
He drew in a relieved breath and slowly funneled it out through his nose. “Good.”
The door to the kitchen swung open, and Tony appeared carrying a tray over his shoulder. The smell of barbecue walked with him. “All right,” he said, dragging a foldout from the corner. He shook it until the legs extended and set it and the tray down. “One mega-size wing platter,” he said, setting the basket in the center of their table. “Side of fries. Extra sauce and ranch dressing. And two large Cokes to wash it all down.”
Nick rubbed his hands together as he surveyed the feast. “We’re going to need extra napkins.”
“Thank you,” Sassy said as she dug into the wing basket without preamble. “You’re the best.”
“I am,” Tony agreed, picking up the tray, removing the foldout and flipping the cleaning rag he carried over his shoulder. “You two are the Sauce Spot’s best customers. You’ve talked this place up so much, I owe most of my regulars to you. Just do me a favor.”
“Anything,” Nick agreed.
“Show up before closing next time,” he requested.
“No promises,” Sassy tossed back playfully.
Tony eyed her with something like wariness. “Be nice, Colton, or I won’t bring you those napkins. I can’t get better advertising than you two walking around Dark Canyon with Whoa Daddy sauce all over you.”
“She’s been warned,” Nick stated, his mouth full. “Thanks, Tony. Really. This is amazing.”
Tony clapped him on the shoulder. “Happy birthday, big dog.”
