Page 19

“Only one,” he says.

I blink.

He doesn’t laugh or wink to tell me he’s joking.

“And I might have married three Rebel girls, but that doesn’t mean they’re the only ones I got to take their clothes off for me.”

I shake my head. I honestly never know what I’m going to learn each day when I wake up in this town.

“You were the town doctor, so I assume you’ve seen a lot of their naked body parts,” I say. “But you know that that doesn’t have to be a reciprocal thing, right?”

He chuckles again and just lifts his coffee cup.

“So this person in and out of the house really isn’t bothering you? Because I could find a way to stop it. Leave a note. Put out a statement.”

He shakes his head. “I’m going to be honest, Law.” His tone is serious now. “It’s been helpful. It’s been great to have these meals provided, and I’ve felt bad that I haven’t been able to cook. It’s more fatiguing than I’d like to admit.”

I frown. I’ve been doing some reading about Parkinson’s disease since he told me the news, but like most medical conditions, it can affect people differently, so I know that I’m going to have to play this by ear with my roommate and take it day by day. “I’m sorry about that. I can do more.”

He has his hand up before I’m even finished with the sentence. “No. You do a lot around here, and you work a full-time job that often demands extra hours, and you’re playing hockey. There is no reason for you to take on the cooking too. And sure, we could go down to Perks and Rec at any point, but if we have this person here willing to help us, why not take advantage of it?”

I don’t have a strong argument other than that this person is a stranger.

But I also know deep down that the chances are she’s not. We don’t know who she is exactly, but she knows us. It seems more and more likely that she lives here in town since she’s over so often and we haven’t gotten sick from her food, so she clearly doesn’t mean us harm.

At least so far.

“If things escalate, the notes get creepy, or she takes anything, we’re going to revisit this conversation,” I tell him.

But how can I deny him food that he’s clearly enjoying, and help he says he wants and needs?

He nods and takes another bite of the cinnamon roll. “Sounds good.”

I grab my keys off the hook by the back door and pocket them. “I’m heading over to Beckett’s quick before I go to the shop,” I tell him. “I’m going to offer him a camera for his porch too.”

Brewser nods. “Nice to see you’re concerned about your teammate.”

Sure. I’m thinking knowing who Beckett’s stalker is would be good. Especially if her friend is coming over here. But I’m also concerned because Sutton lives with Beckett. I’m sure if this stalker really knows everything about Beckett she claims to, she knows that the woman who lives with him is his sister and no threat to her. But if she does something crazy, it could affect Sutton.

I head out the back door and then around the edge of the house to where my truck is parked in front.

I come up short in the middle of the driveway.

“What’s going on?” I ask the four people sitting in chairs on our front lawn.

Wilson Lafitte, one of Brewser’s best friends, twin sisters Patty and Muriel Coffelt, and Harley Delaune, our mayor, are passing a thermos between them, chatting as if they’re at the coffee shop.

“Morning, Lawson,” Wilson greets.

“What are you all doing out here?” I ask.

I glance toward the back of the house. Should I go back in and warn Brewser they’re out here? So far, he’s been able to hide his symptoms from these friends, but it’s rare for anyone to just drop by since they know I live here, so he’s able to plan when he sees them and prepare.

Of course, they’re settled into their chairs as if they’ve been here for a bit and don’t seem inclined to head inside.

“I’m not staying long,” Harley says. “Need to get to City Hall. But thought I would stop by for this first shift.”

“First shift of what?”