Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
WINSLOW
“I’m going to go hang out with Pops for a while today,” I told Griffin as we ate breakfast at the kitchen island.
“I’ve got to head up to the south side of the ranch where we’ve got some horses grazing and make sure the creek still has enough water for them. If it’s too dry, and I suspect it’s getting that way given how hot it’s been all week, I’ll have to move them closer to a spring. Want to come with me?”
“How long will it take?”
“Probably most of the day.”
As wonderful as a Saturday spent with Griff on the ranch sounded, I hadn’t spent enough time with Pops in the past two weeks. Or at my own home. Since the night of the impromptu sibling dinner here, I hadn’t gone to my house for anything but five minutes to grab the mail.
“I’d better skip this one. I need to go to the house and clean. It’s dusty and stale. Maybe build that TV stand that’s been sitting in the box.”
“Or . . .” Griffin set his fork down, twisting in his seat to face me. “You don’t build the TV stand.”
“My television is on the floor.”
“But that one isn’t.” He pointed over my shoulder to the flat screen mounted above the living room’s fireplace.
“At some point, I’m going to want to watch TV at home and not have to sit on the floor so it’s at eye level.”
“How many minutes have you watched TV at your place in the last month?”
“Zero.”
“Exactly.”
“But I already bought the stand. Why wouldn’t I build it?”
“Because you don’t need it.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Winslow.” My name, stated in a way that sounded like I was missing the point.
“Griffin.”
“You watch TV here. You sleep here. Your stuff’s all over the bathroom and your clothes are covering the closet floor.”
“I need to do laundry.”
“Yeah, and when you do that laundry, it’s going to be in the washer and dryer right down that hallway.” He nodded toward the laundry room.
“Do you not want me to use the washer and dryer?”
“No.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s yours. Just like the bathroom’s yours. The bedroom. The closet floor. This kitchen. That TV. This house is yours.”
I blinked. “Huh?”
He laughed again, fitting his wide palm to the nape of my neck.
“Think it over. You want to keep your place in town for a while, that’s fine by me.
You want to get it listed before summer’s over and the market has its seasonal dip, then we’ll get ahold of your realtor and bring the horse trailer to town to move everything out here. ”
My jaw hit the floor as he slid off his stool, kissed my forehead and disappeared toward the bedroom, probably to find some socks so he could go on about his day.
Did he just ask me to move in? To live here? Actually, no. He hadn’t asked. There hadn’t been a single question mixed in with his string of brain-scrambling statements.
Did I want to move in? Yes. I loved this house. I loved the comfort that came with turning off the highway and onto his quiet gravel road. I loved sunsets on the porch and waking in Griffin’s arms.
But it was too soon, wasn’t it? I’d lived with Skyler for years. I’d just separated my life from another man’s. And I did love my little house in town.
That cute, charming little house with the red door that I’d neglected for weeks and weeks.
Griffin, his feet in socks, snuck up on me, still frozen on my stool.
I waved him off when he reached for our plates. “I’ll clean up.”
“Okay.” He kissed my hair. “See you later. Dinner?”
I nodded.
“Have a good day, baby.”
“You too,” I murmured, the words coming on autopilot.
It wasn’t until he was out the door and the rumble of his truck vanished that I shook myself out of my own head and loaded the dishwasher. Then I went to the bedroom and grabbed a load of laundry.
I worked around the house for a couple of hours, waiting to transfer my clothes to the dryer. I dusted the living room. I vacuumed the bedrooms. I mopped the floors.
Should I move in? Maybe that question was unnecessary.
Every pair of panties I owned was beneath this roof. Most were in the hamper, or the vicinity of the hamper. But the others were stowed in a drawer in the closet. He’d given me three drawers, half of the dresser. The same was true in the bathroom.
I cleaned. I brought groceries here after work. The Durango was parked out front whenever I was on duty and driving the station’s Explorer. All that was missing was my mail in the mailbox.
Except I knew that if this fell apart, I had a place to go.
Deep down, maybe that was the problem. Maybe that was the reason I couldn’t find myself immediately saying yes.
Because he still hadn’t said those critical three words. Neither had I.
Each time he kissed me, each time he made love to me, I felt them.
So why couldn’t I give them a voice?
By the time the dryer dinged and my clean clothes were in a drawer or hanging on a closet rod, I still wasn’t sure what to do. So I headed into town to visit the man whose bear hugs always grounded my feet.
Pops opened the front door to his house before I’d even shut off my Durango.
When I stepped out, he held up a hand, halting my steps on the sidewalk.
“Now I’m going to warn you right now, Winnie.
I had bacon for breakfast. The house and my clothes reek of it.
I know it’s not on the diet plan, but dang it, I’m going to have it once a week. Maybe twice.”
“Okay.” I laughed and walked into his outstretched arms. As expected, one hug and I was steadier. “How are you feeling today?”
“Productive. Mowed the lawn this morning. Picked up around the house. Now I get to relax with my best girl.”
“You’d better be talking about me.”
He chuckled, slinging an arm around my shoulders to bring me inside. “You know I am.”
We settled on the back deck, watching the river flow. The lazy swirl, the lap of ripples along the banks, was as soothing as a sunset on Griff’s porch.
My porch. It could be my porch.
“You look nice today,” Pops said.
“Really?” I was in a simple white tank top, denim cutoffs and tennis shoes.
“It’s not your clothes, sweetheart.” His eyes softened. “Are you happy here? In Quincy?”
“I am. Quincy agrees with me.”
“Or maybe it’s Griffin.”
“Maybe.” A smile tugged at my mouth. “He asked me to move in with him.”
“Yeah? And what did you say?”
“Nothing. Yet. I’m not sure what to do. It’s soon.”
“Pfft. Soon is relative.”
“I lived with Skyler for years. Don’t you think I need to be on my own for a while?”
“Winnie, you might have lived with Skyler, but trust me when I say, you were on your own.”
I opened my mouth to argue but the words died on my tongue. Pops was right. I’d lived with Skyler, we’d been engaged, and I had most definitely been on my own.
“You two coexisted,” Pops said. “That’s not the same as companionship.”
“I don’t think I realized how lonely I was in Bozeman,” I admitted. “Since Mom and Dad.”
And then I’d come here, and from the very first night, I’d had Griffin. He’d chased away that loneliness with such ferocity, I hadn’t even realized how much I’d needed someone to burst into my life and shake it up.
“You went through an awful ordeal,” he said.
“So did you.”
He reached over and put his hand over mine. “It’s not the same.”
For the first time in weeks, I thought about the crash. It had been . . . how long had it been? The last nightmare I could remember had been after the Fourth. Weeks of peaceful sleep and Griffin was the cause.
“I made a decision yesterday.” Pops patted my knuckles. “Want you to be the first to know.”
“You’re retiring.”
He nodded. “It’s time. This little health blip put things in perspective.”
“A little blip?” I rolled my eyes. “You had a heart attack.”
“Minor.”
“A heart attack, minor or major, is not a blip.”
“Call it what you want, but it made me realize I’d rather spend the rest of my time without heartburn. I see these other old-timers sitting at Lyla’s shop each morning, talking about the weather and the gossip in town. I think that would suit me just fine.”
“You’re going to get bored.”
“Guaranteed. I’ll probably drive you crazy. Stopping by unannounced. Staying over uninvited.”
I laughed. “In that case, I fully support your retirement.”
“Good.”
“I’m proud of you, Pops. All you’ve done for Quincy.”
“You know, Winnie?” He sat a little straighter. “I’m proud of me too. It’s been a good run as mayor. A long, good run. But you have to promise me one thing.”
“Name it.”
He leaned in close. “The day you fire Tom Smith, you’ll tell me first.”
“Deal. Well, I’ll tell Tom Smith first. But you second.”
“Before Griff.”
“Before Griff.” I winked. “I hope whoever becomes my new boss is as great as you.”
“You’re biased.”
“No, I’m not.”
In my short time here, Pops had given me the freedom to do my job. He was always there as a resource, but he didn’t micromanage the station or demand to know what was happening with certain cases.
I was sure that Frank had given Pops an earful about Briggs Eden, but Pops hadn’t waded into the fray. He trusted me to do my job and make the right decision.
“Can I talk to you about something confidential? While you’re still my boss?”
“I’m all ears.”
“It’s about Lily Green. And Harmony Hardt.”
I told him about the wallet and the purse. About how I’d found them at Briggs Eden’s cabin and everything he’d told me when I’d brought him into the station last month.
It was all information I hadn’t wanted to burden him with after his heart attack. That and nothing else had come from my investigation. There were no more leads to follow, no more questions to ask. Gossip about Briggs had mostly faded away too.
“There were no fingerprints besides those belonging to Briggs,” I told him. “Not even the girls’ prints. Which leads me to believe that someone put them up there for Briggs to find.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure.” It had been bothering me for a month, but as I turned it around in my head, over and over, nothing made sense. I’d even called Cole in Bozeman to get my former partner’s opinion on the case.
Cole had been as stuck as I was.