“She told it in French it was all right. He was very sweet. He’s devoted to her, I could see that. Never strayed more than two feet away. He’s a very good dog, and I’m sure afine companion. But that girl needs a friend. Now, I’ve got to run by the store and pick up some things. I want to try this recipe she gave me.”
“Ma, I don’t want you going over there until I know more.”
“Brooks.”
He was thirty-two years old, and that tone, that look, could still make his balls shrink to marbles.
“You’re a grown man, but it still hasn’t come to the point where you tell me what to do. If you want to find out more about her, why don’t you go out there and be friendly, like I did?”
“And take her pie?”
“You might try a bottle of wine.”
* * *
He went with a nice,mid-range pinot grigio. It seemed reasonable, friendly without too many overtones. It also seemed like it was overthinking the whole thing, so he stopped thinking and just drove out there.
The rain that had blown in the night before teased out a little more green. Now, early-evening sun shimmered through those greening branches, splashed on the road, flickered on the busy water of the little stream that wound through.
He bumped his way up her drive, caught a glimpse of the smoke curling out of her chimney.
Then he saw her.
She stood, the big dog at the heel of her knee-high black boots. She wore jeans, a black leather jacket, and a gun on her hip.
He decided not to overthink the fact that everything about her at that precise moment struck him as grab-your-balls sexy.
It just was—right down to the edgy annoyance on her face.
He snagged the wine, slid out of the car.
“Evening.” He strolled toward her as if she wasn’t packing a Glock, didn’t have a dog who could probably sink itsteeth into the jugular before he cleared his own weapon from its holster.
She eyed the bottle he carried. “What’s that?”
“It’s a couple of things, actually. One, it’s a pretty nice wine. Second, it’s an apology.”
“For what?”
“My mother. I was over there for dinner the other night, and mentioned I’d been out here. She hopped right on that. So…sorry for the intrusion.”
“So you’re intruding to apologize for an intrusion.”
“Technically. But it’s a pretty nice wine. So, been out for a walk?”
“Why?”
“You got some mud on your boots. Some rain last night. It gets things greening up, but it brings the mud, too. Do you always carry a gun when you walk your dog?”
She always carried a gun, period, but that wasn’t any of his business. “I was target shooting. The wine isn’t necessary.”
“Wine’s not necessary, but it’s one of those enjoyable perks that comes along.” He turned it so the pretty straw-colored wine caught the light. “Where are you set up, for target practice?”
“Why do you ask so many questions? Why do you keep coming here, with your wine and your pie? What iswrongwith you people? What are you grinning at?”
“Which question do you want me to answer first?” When she merely gave him a stony stare, he shrugged. “In order, then. I’m a naturally curious sort of man, plus cop. So questions are part of it. It’s likely I got some of that curious from my mother, who came out here, with pie, because she was. And because she’s a friendly sort of woman. I already explained about the wine. From my point of view, nothing’s wrong with us. We just are what we are. Your point of view might come in different. I was grinning because I’d wondered if there was any temper in there. It lights you up. It’s nice to see the light. Did I cover it?”
His eyes were amber in the late-afternoon sun, and his smile appealing. She thought he owned that easy, conversational style the way other men owned socks. “You think you’re charming.”
