That smile of Holt’s, however, did not care about labels.
June tightened her hands on the steering wheel and pretended she had not felt the little shift in her chest at all.
Holt opened the passenger-side door and eased himself into the seat.
“Good morning.” Holt was still smiling.
“Good morning.” She waited until he’d pulled the door shut and fastened his seat belt before pulling away from the curb. “How was your date?”
Holt gave her a look. “You couldn’t even wait five minutes to bring that up?”
June glanced at him, trying to keep a straight face at his expression. It looked like he’d been tortured.
“Sorry. I just thought it would be best to get it out of the way so we could settle into our day.” She kept her mouth very straight for perhaps two seconds before the corner of it twitched.
Holt exhaled through his nose.
“One thing I do know for certain,” Holt stated. “I never want to do that again.”
A soft laugh slipped out of her before she could stop it.
“It couldn’t have been that bad?” June looked at him in disbelief.
“It was worse than bad.” Holt shifted carefully against the seat, already sounding aggrieved on principle. “I stayed as long as I could without creating a diplomatic incident.”
That made June laugh properly, and privately, her heart gave a little jolt of joy that he had not enjoyed Victoria’s company. In fact, June quietly felt ridiculously glad. But she caught the feeling just as quickly and slid it into the dangerous feelings pile in her mind where it belonged.
She was too old for this foolishness. Much too old for these feelings. This was the type of feeling she’d expect Grace and Katey to have over the boys they liked. June’s heart thudded again, but for a different reason this time. She didn’t want to think of her sixteen-year-old granddaughter being old enough to date. June shook off her thoughts and focused on the present.
“Did you learn anything?” June kept the conversation mission-appropriate.
“Not much.” Holt looked out the windshield, his jaw tightening. “Just what we already know. That Victoria doesn’t like Lacey, Lucy, or you.”
June glanced at him and saw that hard line settle in his face.
“I won’t lose any sleep over that,” she assured him. “The feeling is mutual.”
The last part slipped out before June could stop it. She really was digressing back to her teenage days here.
Holt didn’t smile. His voice changed instead, losing the dry edge and turning quieter.
“There was something of interest.” Holt turned his head to look at her. “Victoria had scratches on the back of her hands.”
June’s foot eased off the accelerator for a fraction before she corrected herself. “Really?” Her eyes widened, and her heart slammed against her rib cage. “Did you find out how she got them?”
“She said they were from her daughter’s cat.”
“Do you believe her?” June asked, knowing it was a plausible explanation. She had met that particular cat at the vet. It was not a pleasant creature.
“Honestly, I met the creature, and it really could be.” Holt glanced back at the road ahead, his brow furrowing thoughtfully as he considered it.
June nodded once. “Yes, I know the cat. It is quite a hostile character.” She turned a corner. “So what do we do?”
“Proceed with caution. She’s the police chief’s ex-wife, and we continue to gather evidence.” Holt huffed a small laugh, though it did not fully soften him. “Either way, we still need to find out if that crazy, murderous, furry creature of Sienna’s really did scratch Victoria’s hands or…”
“If Victoria kidnapped Judy,” June finished for him. “Which, when I say it out loud, sounds absurd.”
“I know.” Holt nodded in agreement.
