17. Chapter 17 – Clay
I spent the rest of my morning puttering around the house, cleaning the kitchen and bathroom, then packing a bag for later.
Even scrubbing the toilet couldn’t dim my good mood.
The lemony scent of the cleaner stung my nostrils, but the ritual felt oddly freeing.
Like I was clearing space for what came next.
A fresh start. With the only woman who could make housecleaning feel romantic.
Lucy was softening. I could feel it. Maybe she wasn’t ready for everything I wanted to offer, but as each piece of armor dropped away, revealing more of the soft woman beneath, my resolve deepened. Every glimpse made me want to be the man she deserved.
Chores finished, I hit the shower and made myself a turkey sandwich, devouring it at the sink in five big bites.
It wasn’t until the last mouthful that reality crept back in.
The gallery case.
In the haze of making love to Lucy, I’d nearly forgotten. It was hard to tell if our discovery held any real significance. But something about it nagged at me. I couldn’t ignore the potential link to Jordan Dawkins.
Calling my friend with the DEA might be overkill, but Nick Harris had come through for us before.
He picked up on the first ring. “Ranger Robertson. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Agent Harris. Are you still on the lookout for tips about smuggling through the San Juans?” I asked.
“Always.”
“It may be nothing, but I’ve got something for you.”
I briefed Agent Harris on the case and its possible significance. He was quick to point out that it could be nothing more than art equipment but promised to look into any ties between Chaz Underwood and Jordan Dawkins.
“If you want an opportunity to check him out in person and support the National Parks, we’re having an art benefit on Halloween.”
“Do you think I could come as a DEA agent?”
“Maybe 007.”
“Close enough. I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks for the tip, Robertson.”
“Any time.”
All the talk of the gallery made me want to dig deeper. Especially on the mysterious A.A. It was hard to imagine a painter with that much local prominence managing to stay anonymous. They must buy supplies. Canvases, paint, that kind of thing. Someone had to know who the artist was.
I spent the next hour digging through the gallery blog and announcements, searching for A.A.
’s first showing, or a more complete bio for the artist. Then I searched other art blogs and publications.
A.A.’s influence seemed strong only on San Juan Island.
Our distance from Seattle and Bellevue’s wealthier suburbs didn’t explain how an artist with such a prolific footprint would have no mentions there.
The more I researched, the less I learned, making me feel better about tagging Agent Harris into the conversation. Something fishy was going on at the gallery.
I went for a run with Lee and Zach and managed a few loads of laundry before dinner rolled around. Maybe it was presumptuous, but I threw a bag for Lucy’s in my truck and hit up the market for a few boxes of local chocolates before driving to Violet’s house.
While I was pretty sure Violet, Anya, and Rae already approved of me, chocolate couldn’t hurt.
Before, I’d just been the guy flirting with their friend. Now we were a couple. And getting her crew on my side—before I inevitably did something stupid and Lucy roasted me in the group chat—felt like a solid investment.
Wooing her friends with big boyfriend energy might buy me some grace later. Plus, watching Lucy squirm as I laid it on thick? Satisfying as hell. Showering her with affection was half the fun—claiming her without needing to say a word.
Violet Fenwick still shared a small house with Anya at the top of the hill near the moped rental shop, though Anya had started boxing things up for her move.
In the evenings, there were no bright red scooters zipping up her road.
The promised atmospheric river had moved in, sending sheets of heavy rain blasting my windshield.
I parked next to Drew’s truck and ran for the back door with the chocolates clutched under one arm.
Lucy looked up with a smile for me from her spot on the couch. Her inky black hair was drawn away from her cheeks in two low pigtails. She’d changed out of last night’s clothes and looked cozy in an oversized flannel and jeans.
After our night together, I had a fresh perspective on why she chose all black. The high necklines. The layers. A shadow of her ex still lingered in the background, shaping her choices.
I swallowed down the anger that flared – aimed at a man I’d never met and never would. His bad decisions led her to me. And I’d gladly cherish every inch of her for the rest of my life.
“Hey.” I closed the distance between us in a few strides, dropping onto the couch next to her.
“Is that all for me?” she asked, eyes wide as she noticed the pink boxes in my lap.
“Not quite.” I dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. “One box is a thank you for Anya and Vi. And I couldn’t leave Rae out.”
Lucy arched one brow. “And the other?”
“All for you, honey.”
“You can’t buy me with chocolate, Robertson.”
I’d take her any way I could get her. Whatever reply I was about to give died on my tongue as Zach and Rae tumbled through the door, laughing and wet. They shed their rain jackets and boots on the mat.
Vi emerged from the kitchen, taking drink requests. In a matter of minutes, the tiny living room was full, minus one of the usual suspects.
Drew had pulled Anya into his lap, sharing one chair. Lucy snuggled next to me on the couch. Vi stood at the entry to the kitchen, wine glass in hand. Rae and Zach stood in front of the fireplace, hands out for warmth.
“No Lee tonight?” I asked.
“He’s on deadline,” Zach said, shaking his head ruefully. “I tried to tell him he still needs to eat, but he said he was on a roll and couldn’t stop until he met his wordcount for the day.”
“Maybe I’ll drop off a care package after dinner,” Vi said.
Did she even realize she turned her body in the direction of Lee’s house as she mentioned him—like he was her north, compass be damned?
“Good luck,” Drew said. “When he’s writing, he can tune out anything. I doubt he’ll even hear the door.”
“That’s why I have a key,” Vi said smugly.
Drew narrowed his eyes. “He and I have been best friends for the better part of two decades, and you’re the one with a key?”
Vi patted her oldest brother’s arm. “I guess some of us are just more responsible and trustworthy than others.”
Drew huffed, scowling. “Have you met me?”
Vi rolled her eyes at her older brother. “Yes. I have. Need I remind you of the manure incident when I was sixteen?”
“Clark Wallace deserved that.”
“Whatever you say, Drew. Dinner’s ready. Come dish up.”
We followed Violet into the kitchen. She, Drew, and Anya had put together a feast of epic proportions. Two roasted chickens, mashed potatoes, rolls, and steamed broccoli filled the counter. We dished up quickly, settling in the living room to eat.
“This is so good. Thanks, guys,” Lucy said, inhaling her dinner.
Vi smiled innocently. “You say that like you worked up quite an appetite.” She shifted her gaze between me and Lucy, making it clear exactly why she thought Lucy was so hungry.
“Yes, Roberston and I are knocking boots. Tell Lee. Tell your Gran. Tell anyone you feel needs to know our private business,” Lucy said with an edge in her voice.
“Okay then,” Drew said mildly, gaze sliding from my face to Lucy’s.
For once, I was glad Lucy wasn’t one of the Fenwick siblings. Drew, Zach, and Violet were all up in each other’s business, with plenty of opinions on who each other should date or be with. Watching Drew pair up with Anya and Zach admit his feelings for Rae made me grateful I was an only child.
After dinner, Lucy broached the topic of the art gallery. “Drew, you remember that case you found down at the beach? Do you recall if it had any identifying markers?”
Drew shrugged. “I didn’t inspect it that thoroughly. There was no ‘property of’ stamped on it, but it was etched with the initials J.D.”
“For Jordan Dawkins?” Lucy asked.
“Who knows? I regret not busting it open when I had the chance. It was probably empty, but now we’ll never know.”
Lucy held up a finger. “ Or is it nestled in Chaz Underwood’s back room at the gallery?” She pulled out her phone, holding out the photo she’d snapped in Chaz’s back room. “Do you recognize it?”
Drew looked doubtful. “I don’t know, Lucy. That was months ago. It’s hard to imagine him holding on to anything incriminating.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. What if he wasn’t the one who stole it?” Lucy asked.
“What would be the point? What’s so important about the case?” Anya asked.
“Maybe something worth dying for?” Rae asked, frowning.
“The rumors at the time were about smuggling counterfeit drugs from Canada. The case wasn’t all that big,” I said.
“Plenty big enough,” Lucy countered. “Especially if it was a regular route.”
“If that’s the case, and Jordan was involved, who’s taken over the business? Jordan’s dead. His second mate is sitting in the county jail. Brandon’s not exactly doing runs between the Port of Victoria and Friday Harbor these days.”
Anya tugged at her bottom lip. “My family might have stepped into the breach.”
I considered it. Anya had fled her family in the Midwest, trying to start a new life after discovering their side hustle, smuggling through the Great Lakes. But her past had followed her in the form of her ex-boyfriend, Owen.
Last we’d heard, he’d been picked up in a sting by the DEA. Unless her family had another fixer, it was hard to imagine them spreading their tentacles this far, this fast.
“I tipped off Agent Harris, just in case. He may pop up at the Halloween show.”
Anya’s expression softened. “How’s he doing? I’m still thankful to him for pulling Owen out of circulation.”
I smirked. “If you see a tall Black man wearing a tux and holding a martini at the art benefit, remember you’ve never met him before.”
Drew cracked a smile. “Let me guess – Bond, James Bond?”
I nodded. Lucy’s eyes lit with interest. “I do love a man in a sharp suit.”
I choked, sputtering, “You?”
Her smile broadened, eyes dancing with mischief. She winked. “And a man in uniform.”
“That reminds me – what costumes did you choose for Halloween?” Anya asked. “I can’t wait to see everyone all dressed up.”
Zach’s mouth quirked up at the corner, and he laughed when his older brother scowled.
“I’d forgotten about the costumes part,” Drew muttered.
“I’ve got you covered,” Anya reassured him before dropping a kiss on his cheek.
The sheer adoration in the way he looked at her was uncomfortable to watch.
I shifted toward Lucy, who also caught the interplay, something akin to longing in her expression.
Not what I expected from the woman who’d coolly announced we were “knocking boots” just a few minutes ago.
“What about you, Luce? Or do I even need to ask?”
She hid a smile. “Robertson, the boots alone are gonna be enough to make you cry.”
I perked up. “Promise?”
Her eyes narrowed. “What about you? Are you going as the Man in the Yellow Hat?”
I sniffed. “No. You’re not the only one who can be sexy.”
“What’s your costume?”
“I’m not telling. You’re just gonna have to wait and see.”
And now I had two weeks to pull together something appropriately slutty to get and keep her attention.
“We’re going as cast members from Below Deck ,” Rae volunteered.
“What about you, Vi?”
She grimaced. “I promised Gran I’d do a couple’s costume with her.”
Lucy’s eyes rounded. “I’m afraid to ask.”
“Me too,” Vi said glumly. “I already regret agreeing.”
“Why did you?” I asked.
“She caught me in a weak moment.”
Zach coughed. “ Blackmail .”
“Or that,” Vi said matter-of-factly.
Anya winced, sympathy clear in her expression. “I can help you come up with a backup idea.”
Vi waved a hand in the air. “It’s fine. How bad could it be?”
Even with my limited experience with Gran, I knew those were likely to be famous last words…