around the corner. Brady followed to see him jump into a neutral colored sedan and peel away from the curb. He tried to make out the license plate, but it was too far away to get a clear view.
Turning, he saw Katrina standing by the front door, the shotgun still in her hand. “Did you recognize him?”
Brady shook his head. “He mentioned someone named Carol. Wanted to know if she was here. Did he look familiar to you?”
She returned inside, setting the shotgun back into the closet. “No. Except…”
“Except what?”
Katrina thought about it a minute before shaking her head. “Nothing. I’m seeing ghosts where there aren’t any.”
Putting the 9mm away, Brady walked back to the kitchen. “I wouldn’t want to be that Carol chick. Whatever happened between them couldn’t have been good.”
Katrina startled at the sound of her phone. Swiping it from the counter, she relaxed at Gunner’s name. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself. How are you doing?”
For an instant, she considered telling him about the man who’d shoved his way into their house, quickly discarding the idea. “Fine. Getting dinner ready. You’re welcome to come by if you haven’t eaten.”
“Thanks, but I’ve got plans. I wanted to let you know your car will be ready tomorrow evening. If you’re working, I can bring it by the nursery.”
Her mind was still on his comment about having plans. She’d learned most times that meant he had a date. A man like Gunner would have his pick of women. Katrina did her best to ignore the sharp pain in her chest, telling herself they were friends and nothing more.
“Um, yeah. The nursery is fine. I’ll be there until five. Do you know how much it will cost?”
“Not yet, but don’t worry about it, Kat. It’s not going to be as much as you might think.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. “I hope you’re not planning to bury the costs, or paying some of them yourself. We’re perfectly capable of paying our bills.” Hearing his hesitation, she became impatient. “Gunner?”
“Sorry, Kat. I’ve got to get going. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Staring at the phone, she blew out a frustrated breath. “Damn him.”
“Something wrong?” Her mother walked toward her. Katrina hadn’t even heard her enter the house.
“No, Mom. All’s good. Gunner called to tell me the car would be ready tomorrow. He’ll bring it by the nursery late in the afternoon and get his truck back. Are you ready for dinner?”
“Let me change first. I can’t wait to get off my feet.” Teri worked in a salon, standing at least six hours a day. Between her job, Katrina’s, and Brady’s, they were able to pay the bills, and most months, save a little.
A few minutes later, Teri joined them at the table, sighing at the glass of wine her daughter had poured. “Thanks, honey.” Taking a sip, she sat back. “Smells wonderful.”
“Chicken enchiladas, Mom. Kat’s are the best.” Brady reached over to dig out a big spoonful.
“Brady Snowden.” His mom lifted a brow at him.
“Oh, yeah.”
“It’s your turn, Brady.” Teri reached out her hand.
Groaning, he took her and Katrina’s hands before bowing his head. Less than thirty seconds later, he was scooping up large servings for his mom and sister before taking an even bigger portion for himself.
Teri followed a bite of enchilada with a sip of wine. “Anything exciting happen today?”
Katrina shot a glance at Brady, giving an almost imperceptible shake of her head. “Nope. Brady worked on homework and I made dinner. Pretty normal.”
“And boring,” Brady added.
Both knew if Teri found out about the man, they’d be forced to pack, uprooting their lives again. Since the man didn’t cause any harm and left, albeit at the encouragement of a shotgun and 9mm, they’d stay silent…for now.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to take Brady on a short ride in Gunner’s truck.”
Brady’s face broke into a broad smile. “It’s such an awesome truck, Mom. You should come with us.”
“Thanks, honey, but I’m going to soak in a hot bath and relax.”
“Another busy day tomorrow, Mom?” Brady stood, massaging her shoulders and upper back.
“That feels so good.”
Katrina watched, anger rising at the change in their lives brought on by their father’s deception. “You work too hard. Maybe it’s time for you to cut down to five days a week.”
“It’s the money from the sixth day I sock away for vacations, and, well…special stuff. Thanks, honey, but I’m fine. Anyway, with both of you so busy, I don’t know what I’d do with more than one day off.”
“You