Chapter Seven #2
Audra had little Magnolia on her hip while she spoke to Vi, who looked huge and uncomfortable and reminded Copeland of too many things he’d left behind.
So Copeland forced his gaze onto Hart. And, in spite of himself, tried to soothe his worry. “This stuff, it’s all connected. But it’s all…weird, petty stuff. You guys don’t need to worry. I’ll figure it out.”
Hart only frowned. “A gravestone feels more threatening than petty.”
“I’d agree, but they shot to destroy. Not to hurt.”
“It hurts.”
“You know what I mean.” He glanced back at Audra. Couldn’t seem to stop himself. “She can’t think of anyone, not anyone, who’d want to mess with her. Who doesn’t at least have one enemy?”
“Audra Young.”
Copeland grunted. “She suggested someone after Rosalie. It makes more sense on paper, but in reality…”
“This is all really personal.”
“Yeah.”
Hart sighed. “Maybe this goes without saying, but since I’m going to be focused on my wife tomorrow, I have to say it. Audra’s my family, even if it’s only by marriage. If anything happens to her…”
“I’ve got it handled. She doesn’t want me here, but I’m not leaving. Blood on my hands isn’t my MO.”
“Yeah, that all it’s about?”
Copeland didn’t stiffen, though he wanted to. “What else would it be about?”
“You’re not exactly a monk.”
“Yeah. Exactly. I’m not looking for serious. Audra Young’s got serious written all over her. This is just a job, and a favor to a few friends who consider her family.”
“It’s not so bad,” Hart said, in that gentle way of his that always made Copeland feel itchy. “Serious. Family.”
Copeland only grunted. Hart clapped him on the back.
“I’m counting on you, Copeland.”
Copeland didn’t consider himself part of any community. He didn’t make friends anymore. Didn’t get involved in people’s lives. He’d left that behind in Denver.
Or so he’d thought. Because it struck him as a surprise, just how much that counting on weighed.
Because Hart was his friend, and Copeland didn’t want to let him down. He watched as Hart moved over to the group, took Magnolia out of Audra’s arms, smiled, chatted. Then wrapped his free arm around his wife and moved her to the car.
They got in with waves and goodbyes, leaving Copeland in the yard and Audra on the porch. Alone, essentially, together in the dark.
“Moved to this damn place so I wouldn’t have any ties, and here I am all tied up,” he muttered to himself, turning to walk over to the porch.
But apparently she wasn’t on the porch. She was right there.
“Why didn’t you want any ties?” she asked, tilting her head and studying him even though dark hung around them.
Irritated with himself, he shrugged, tried to be casual. “Long story.”
“Seems like we’ve got a lot of time for a long story since you insist on being underfoot.”
“Seems like,” he agreed, moving for the house. “But not tonight. You haven’t slept a wink.”
Instead of admitting that was true, she got all stubborn about it. “Neither have you,” she said, following after him.
“Used to it. Life of a cop.”
She moved in front of him, stopped his forward movement by planting herself in front of the porch, fisting her hands on her hips. “Well, I’m used to it. Life of running a ranch on my own.”
“Are you always this stubborn or is it just on my account?”
She huffed. But he was a cop. He knew how to deescalate a situation and knew that was absolutely not what he was doing right now.
But he didn’t seem to care. Neither did she.
“I grew up with Rosalie,” she retorted. “I am not stubborn. I make compromises. You’re inexplicably here, aren’t you? Doing chores and cleaning up messes that aren’t yours. If I was stubborn, or more stubborn than you, I’d be the one doing all that.”
“They aren’t your messes either. In fact, as the investigating detective, it’s more mine than yours.”
She threw her arms up in the air. “That’s ridiculous.”
“You’re ridiculous.” And he was tired, no doubt, which was the only reason he snapped. Why else would he be so easily irritated? “You’ve got person after person coming here, worried about you, wanting to help you, and you just shove them all away.”
“Oh, because a normal person would want their family and friends in the line of fire?”
“A sensible person takes help. A sensible person knows when they’re out of their depth.”
“Out of my depth?” She all but screeched it. He was actually kind of fascinated, watching her temper fracture. She even reached out, as if to give him a little shove, but instinctually, he gripped her hands to stop her from landing it.
They stood there, too close. Her hands on his chest, his hands curled over her wrists. Connected with moonlight settling over them like a blanket. Both looking at each other, both breathing a little too hard.
He wasn’t thinking about how mad he was anymore. He didn’t think she was either.
Which was…dangerous.
He dropped her hands. Sidestepped her block of the porch. “Well, I’m going to use my sense and go get some sleep. Don’t forget to lock up.” Then he marched his frozen ass inside, determined that he wasn’t doing any chores tomorrow.
He was finding a shooter.