They’d driven to the coffee shop together, Tyler following her in his truck just to make sure she got there safely. He’d watched her unlock the back door, sipping from the mug she’d given him, waiting until she disappeared inside before heading to work himself.
She promised to wait until he showed up this afternoon. She assured him she had work to do and could wait for him to follow her home. With any luck, they’d have answers by then.
Tyler tightened the last bolt and lowered the Silverado off the jack.
He kept trying not to think about how he would’ve preferred waking up in the same room as Brooke. The same bed. Would’ve preferred reaching for her in the early morning light, pulling her close, feeling her warmth against him.
He understood they needed to not rush that part of the relationship. Not only for Brooke, who’d been burned before by trusting the wrong person, but for him too.
It wasn’t that he’d lived as a monk since Jen died. There’d been women over the years. A bartender in Montana who’d understood he wasn’t staying. A teacher in Idaho who’d ended things when she realized he’d never be fully present. A nurse in Indiana who’d told him that he was still grieving and maybe always would be.
He’d never lied to any of them. Never pretended he had more to offer than temporary comfort. And none of them had pushed for more than he could give.
There hadn’t been feelings involved. Not real ones. Just two people finding comfort with each other for a while before moving on with their separate lives.
But this was different.
What he was building with Brooke was real. Deep. The kind of connection he’d thought died in the fire along with everything else.
He knew it, felt it in the way his heart rate kicked up when she walked into a room. The way her laugh made him want to find reasons to hear it again. The way her hand fit inside his like it belonged there.
Tyler planned to keep it that way. To protect what they were building. To not mess this up by rushing or pushing or letting his own needs override what was best for both of them.
And until she was safe—until the real killer was caught—he needed to be at the top of his game. He couldn’t risk a moment of letting his guard down. Couldn’t allow Brooke to be hurt because he was distracted or careless or not paying attention to the threat.
Besides, deep in his bones, he knew they needed to wait. Maybe even wait like he and Jen had, until their wedding night.
Tyler moved to the next vehicle on his list, a Honda with a check engine light. He hooked up the diagnostic scanner and waited for it to read the codes.
He was determined to enjoy the time they had. However long it lasted. However it ended up. He tried to not get his hopes up that this could be a forever thing. Because that was what he wanted more than almost anything.
After work, they were going on a run together. He promised to make dinner. He brought a few things overfrom his place last night with this in mind—a couple of elk steaks, compliments of his dart-playing buddies, along with pasta and a salad. Easy to make and delicious.
The scanner beeped. Tyler noted the codes and disconnected the tool.
He checked his watch—11:53. Almost lunchtime.
He’d heard nothing from Joe about the meeting with the sheriff.
No call. No text. Nothing.
Joe and Steph were supposed to meet with the sheriff at ten. Maybe he’d believe them. Start an investigation and keep his possibly guilty deputies under surveillance.
Or something.
Tyler sighed. He didn’t know exactly what the procedure would be for something like this. He could only hope the sheriff would examine the evidence with an open mind.
Somehow, Tyler knew not hearing from Joe didn’t bode well.
Steph had been confident she could help and could convince the sheriff to listen. Maybe something went wrong with the appointment? Maybe the sheriff got called out to an emergency?
Or worse, the sheriff had listened and dismissed their concerns outright.
He could call Joe and ask what was happening. But Joe would’ve reached out if there was news. The fact that he hadn’t meant there wasn’t any. At least not good news.
Tyler shoved the phone back in his pocket and returned to the Honda.
The waiting was the worst part. Not knowing. Not being able to act. Just working and thinking and checkinghis watch every few minutes like that would somehow make time move faster.
