boyfriend.” Cate crushed her empty can in her fingers, the crinkle of the aluminum adding a discordant note to the measured evensong of the cicadas.
“Easier said than done. I work with dead people, remember.”
Cate snickered. “I can see where that could be a problem.”
“Plus, guys tend to be freaked out by my profession.”
“You could always date a mortician.”
“Ha-ha.”
“I bet the right guy for you is out there somewhere.” Eve touched her sister’s hand. “And you have us to keep you company tonight. How long are you staying?”
“Only until morning. I have reports to write tomorrow, and Cate’s heading out of town for a few days.”
Eve turned to her older sister. “Where are you going?”
“My usual chill-out spot.”
“Cuivre River State Park?”
“Yep. A campsite above the lake has my name on it.”
“Well . . . as long as we’re all together tonight, how about a game of Scrabble here on the deck? I’ll make popcorn later.”
“The perfect antidote to a busy week. I’m in.” Grace moved her chair to the table.
“Me too.” Cate scooted over too.
Eve popped in the final bite of corn bread and stood. “I’ll be back as soon as I unearth the game from the guest room that’s crammed full of my living room furniture.”
“Don’t hurry. It feels good to sit and veg.” Cate settled back in her chair.
After picking up her empty bowl and brushing a few crumbs off the table, Eve retreated inside to scrounge up the game they’d enjoyed since they were old enough to spell. Sometimes the competition was cutthroat—but information had been shared, advice sought, and memories relived over the Scrabble board. Tonight would be no different.
Except she wasn’t talking anymore about Brent, no matter how much her sisters probed—for two reasons.
First, it might go nowhere, and second, the two of them had other priorities for the immediate future.
Yet as she wiggled through the furniture in the guest room in search of the game, the threats that had dominated her life these past two weeks receded. After all, they had a credible suspect under surveillance, Brent was working the case hard, and everything had been quiet for several days.
Conclusion? This disturbing chapter in her life was winding down.
And now that her world was settling back onto its axis, what else could possibly happen to disrupt it—or resurrect the danger?
18
DOUG SHUT OFF THE ENGINE of his car but stayed behind the wheel as the garage door rumbled down behind him, snuffing out the Saturday afternoon sun.
The potent scent of the lilies in the extravagant bouquet on the passenger seat swirled around him, churning his stomach.
Maybe this was a mistake.
What if she thought the gesture was silly? Or worse, suspicious. That he was bringing her flowers because he owed her an apology.
Although in truth, he did. Wasn’t the romantic notion he’d dreamed up as he’d lain awake in bed last night prompted by guilt? Maybe the rift between them wasn’t entirely his fault, but a large portion of it was.
And he didn’t want to lose her.
Drawing in a deep breath, Doug picked up the bouquet, slid out from behind the wheel, and went in search of his wife.
He found her in the laundry room, makeup free, hair uncombed, dressed in her oldest sweats as she pulled a load of clothes from the dryer and turned to dump it on the folding table.
She jerked when she spotted him standing in the doorway, and a few of his T-shirts landed in a heap on the floor as one hand fluttered to her chest. “Doug! I thought you were going to be at the office most of the—” Her gaze flicked to the bouquet he was gripping . . . then moved back to his face, her expression morphing from startled to uncertain.
“That was the original plan . . . but I got to thinking about—” He swallowed. Cleared his throat. Shifted his weight. “About us, and how much fun we used to have—and how I miss those early days. They seem like . . . they feel like another life sometimes.”
She hugged the armful of laundry tighter to her chest, one of his handkerchiefs drifting to the floor to join the jumbled T-shirts. “To me too.”
“So I was thinking . . . why not try to build in more time for us? Leave our responsibilities behind for a few hours every week and focus on all the things that brought us together in the first place.” His heart was thumping as hard as it used to during his