Chapter Eight
Audra considered it lucky that she slept. Exhaustion won out over anger.
And all the other things storming around inside of her.
The problem was, when she woke up to her trilling alarm the next morning, they were all still right there. Anger less than before, but the other things…
She shut off the alarm, then lied back in bed and stared at the ceiling and scowled. It grated that she found him attractive, that she had a physical reaction to him. She didn’t want that.
But it had shimmered through her, twining with frustration, last night on the porch. She didn’t know what had come over her. She’d just…needed to act out. Give him a little shove. Not to hurt. She wasn’t a violent person. She just wanted to prove a point.
Instead, he’d stopped her, put his big, rough hands around hers, and then held them there. In the frigid night with starlight dancing around them.
And her body had felt too many things at once—a warmth that shouldn’t have existed on a cold winter night, a shudder deep inside that seemed to awaken old desires she’d pushed way, way, way down under responsibility, and the thrill of something she didn’t want at all.
Unpredictability. Surprise. Uneven footing.
No matter what her body thought of that, her brain knew better. That was a recipe for heartbreak and disaster.
She’d love to live in denial, but that didn’t get her anywhere. She was attracted to Copeland, and that was annoying with him underfoot. Because she wasn’t about to do anything about that attraction. She didn’t want anything to do with the man, even if he was hot.
Her perfect guy was kind and quiet. The stoic rancher type with a squishy heart of gold.
They’d take care of the ranch together. He’d know how to cook.
She’d bake. They’d have kids and a dog and a nice, quiet, happy, predictable life.
She hadn’t met him yet, and maybe she never would, but she definitely didn’t want a grumpy, arrogant detective from the city who’d probably never been predictable a day in his life.
So why did she find herself reliving that moment like it was some kind of romantic overture from one of the romance books or movies she loved?
He’d stopped her from pushing him. The end.
She rolled onto her stomach, groaned into her pillow. It was five seconds of indulgence, and now she had to get up and get moving. She still needed to do something about her truck…at some point.
She didn’t know where the money was going to come from. She might actually have to accept some help from Rosalie, which left her feeling grumpier than being attracted to Copeland did.
She got dressed and trudged downstairs, but she stopped short halfway across the living room.
She smelled…coffee. Even when Rosalie and Franny were here, she was always the one to get up and make coffee.
Except on the rare occasions Franny pulled an all-nighter to meet a deadline, but even then, the coffee was usually old and bitter.
She gave a fleeting thought to retreating, but that was cowardly, and more than that, she couldn’t skip breakfast. Not when she had so many chores to do and figure out how she was going to get up to the hospital once Vi had the baby.
Maybe her truck was drivable. Sure, it didn’t have windows, but she could bundle up. Maybe.
That was a problem for later. First, she needed coffee and breakfast. So she powered forward, into the kitchen, where Copeland already was.
He stood at her sink, his back to her. He was looking out the window. Beyond his silhouette, the sun was starting to make the mountains glow gold, even as the immediate world around the house remained dark.
For a moment, she had the strangest sensation of déjà vu. Like she’d seen this exact moment before, maybe in a dream.
But that was ridiculous. It was just weird because a man hadn’t stood in this kitchen first thing in the morning in well over four years.
Thomas and Duncan came over for dinner sometimes, but they never spent the night.
So it was just weird because the last guy who did this was her dad, and she kind of hated him, even if it was wrong to hate dead parents.
She didn’t think she made any noise, but Copeland looked over his shoulder at her. He hadn’t shaved, and the dark stubble gave him an even more dangerous look. Not that he was dangerous, in the sense that someone shooting out her windows was dangerous.
But she felt…a strange kind of threatened when he looked at her like that. A fluttery kind of threatened, torn between running away and…
Well, she didn’t want to consider the and.
He gestured at the coffeepot. “I can assure you, it’s cop coffee, so it’s not any good, but it’ll get the job done.”
She nodded, still feeling weird and shaken. So wordlessly she went over to the cabinet and got out her favorite mug and poured herself a very…thick semblance of coffee. She choked down the first sip on a grimace.
His mouth twitched. “You can always make your own.”
She crossed to the fridge, rummaged around until she found cream. She checked the date. Only two days past expiration. Better than making her own pot of coffee. She dumped some in. It wasn’t going to be enough, so she moved to the pantry, grabbed the bag of sugar and dumped some in.
“When are you going to go to the hospital?” he asked.
She could feel his eyes on her, but she was not about to look at him, even if she was surprised he was thinking about Vi.
She’d choke down the sludge disguised as coffee and pretend like it was oh so normal to have this man in her kitchen.
“It depends. You may be unaware, but babies don’t let you know when they’ll arrive. Even when you’re induced.”
The silence to that was incredibly uncomfortable, and she wasn’t sure why.
“I’ll drive you in when you’re ready,” he said, after the silence had stretched out. “Head into the station and handle some things. Then I’ll drive you back. In the meantime, I’ll help with the chores again.”
It was the high-handed way he said all that, without asking. Without even suggesting. Just swept into her life and told her how things were going to be.
“I don’t recall hiring a bodyguard.”
“You’d do well to think about it.”
With what money? she wanted to retort. But she didn’t, because she had pride. Maybe too much, but better too much than too little. “Don’t you have a job?”
“Guess what? Finding out who committed property damage and is making threats against a Bent County citizen is my job. Lucky you.”
God, he was so grating. “But your job is not my chores. You don’t—”
He interrupted her, gaze steely. “Don’t say it, Audra.”
“—have to.”
He huffed out his own irritated breath. “Damn, you have a complex.”
“Well, it’s my complex to have. Maybe you have a helping complex.”
He snorted. “Yeah, tell that to my ex-wife.” Then he stiffened, his expression tensing. Clearly, he had not meant to let out that little tidbit.
Ex-wife.
So none of her business, but she stood still, tense herself, just…absorbing this new piece of personal information about him. She would never have claimed to know him. Literally the only thing she knew about his life before Bent was that he’d been a detective in Denver.
The end.
Ex-wife. He had an ex-wife. He’d been married when he seemed like such a loner. Maybe that was why he had an ex. Ex-wife.
But she wasn’t Rosalie. Or Franny, for that matter. She didn’t ask uncomfortable questions. She didn’t poke into other people’s private business. Even if she desperately wanted to know more.
Had to know more. “You were married,” she said, instead of keeping her mouth shut like she should, like she normally would.
The stoic expression and tension in his shoulders didn’t change. “Yeah.”
“And divorced.”
“That’s usually what the ex means.”
“I… Is that why you moved here?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Yes. No. Complicated.”
She wanted a real answer, and knew she didn’t have a right to one. “Right. Sorry. None of my business.”
“You got any ex-husbands rolling around?”
She laughed in spite of herself. “No.” She didn’t know what possessed her. She knew she shouldn’t say it. It had nothing to do with him, and it was ancient history, but it felt…fair, somehow, to let him into a piece of her not-so-great past. “I did date Xavier Stanley.”
“That asshole? Damn, Audra.” He shook his head, but he didn’t seem so uncomfortable. He seemed almost faintly amused. “Have better standards.”
“I do. Now. But in high school I was just thrilled someone asked me out. He wasn’t as big of a jerk then, but he was working on it. Anyway, we all make mistakes.”
He looked down at his mug, pushed off the counter he’d been leaning against. “Yeah, we do. We better get to work. I’ve got some calls to make later, when it’s an appropriate time to be awake.”
She nodded, agreeing with him, except…
What kind of mistakes had he made? What kind of mistakes led to an ex-wife and a downgrade in job status? It wasn’t her business, but…she couldn’t let it go.
She didn’t know what divorce was like, because her father had preferred to keep two wives rather than let one go. Was Copeland the kind of man who would have done the same? She didn’t want to think it of him, but…she had to know. Even if it was absolutely none of her business.
She had to know.
SHE DIDN’T FOLLOW him at first. Which was fine and dandy because Copeland didn’t want those big blue eyes on him looking all…he didn’t know. Certainly not sympathetic. Not that she should be.
Sure, he hadn’t meant to mention Danielle. He usually didn’t think about her or the life he’d left behind, but the past few days had…dredged stuff up, he could admit.
When Audra did finally follow him, she had a strange look about her. He couldn’t quite read her expression or the way she was wringing her hands together.
“Copeland. You… With your wife. Ex-wife. You didn’t… It wasn’t…”
He stared at her, wondering what the hell she was getting at. Wondering why the hell she was harping on this. Wondering why the hell he was letting her.
“Spit it out, Audra.”
“It’s just…” She shook her head. “You won’t get it.
I know you won’t. But my dad had this whole secret family.
For years, he built a life with two different women, raised two different sets of children, and we never knew about each other until he died.
And then it was such a mess. All because he didn’t think about anyone but himself. ”
She was getting all worked up. He couldn’t imagine going through that. His dad was just…one of the best men he’d ever known. His parents, their stability and goodness, were the foundation of his life, and the only reason everything back in Denver hadn’t totally ended him.
But why was she bringing it up? She’d already done a tit for tat when she’d admitted to dating that prick Stanley. “What exactly are you asking me, Audra?”
“I don’t know. I have to trust you, don’t I? To stay here and allegedly protect me and all that. And I didn’t really think about that on a personal level, because you’re a police officer and Thomas trusts you and likes you and…”
“I didn’t cheat on my wife,” he ground out. Disgusted with himself and the situation and her for drawing this very private and none-of-her-business information out of him. He didn’t owe it to her, any more than he needed her to trust him.
But he found he wanted her to know, whether he liked that want or not. “Quite the opposite.” But that wasn’t the whole story, was it? “Doesn’t mean I wasn’t a bad husband.”
“I…”
“It also doesn’t mean I’m a bad cop. In fact, probably the opposite. I’m not going to go start a second family, or even a first. So I don’t see what it’s going to do with anything.”
“That isn’t what I was getting at.”
“Yeah, I know.” God, he hated apologizing, but he was being a jerk, and he didn’t have any reason to be. Maybe she was poking into his personal life, but…
He didn’t know.
“Look, I’m sorry.” He scowled at her. “Sore subject. Obviously.”
“I…shouldn’t have poked.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
She huffed out a breath. “I just… I know it’s none of my business. But I guess the idea of cheating and hurting people in a marriage is my sore spot, and I just want to be able to think of you as a good guy.”
“Never said I was that.”
“But you are.”
She was so earnest sometimes. He didn’t know what to do with it. “Then stop telling me not to help out, huh? Let me be Mr. Good Guy.”
Her mouth curved, ever so slightly. “The good men I know aren’t so grumpy.”
“Even when you poke into their personal life?”
She pulled a face. “Not my usual MO. I leave that to Rosalie. But she’s not here. So everything’s out of whack.”
He chuckled a little, imagining Audra being the yin to Rosalie’s obnoxious yang. Maybe they did balance each other out, but Rosalie wasn’t here and someone was harassing Audra and…
“Wait a second.” He whirled around and she nearly stumbled back because she’d been moving with him toward the door. But with everything she’d said, it finally clicked.
“Second family. Death. Estates. Did your dad leave stuff to them? To you guys? A will? Contested? Ugly?”
“I…” She blinked. “Not ugly, I don’t think.
Mom was happy to sort of wash her hands of anything.
Dad had transferred the ranch over to me before he died because he’d taken a job in agricultural sales.
Well, that’s what he’d claimed anyway. He didn’t leave a will for the rest, so it was messy, but not ugly because we didn’t fight for anything. ”
But death did funny things to people. Thinking they deserved things made once rational people act really irrationally.
“These other kids were okay with you getting all this?”
“I don’t know what there’s not to be okay about. I grew up here. This is my family’s land. I…run this place and did before my dad died. I tried to reach out to them after I found out about them. I tried…to bridge a gap, but none of them wanted anything to do with me.”
“I want names. And any legal documents about estates, possessions. Any legal document about the end of your father’s life.”
“Copeland, I really doubt some half siblings I’ve never met have some vendetta against me having the ranch. He’s been dead for four years.”
“I want names, Audra. It’s the closest we’ve come to a lead, and I’m following the lead.”
She had that stubborn look on her face. “It’s a waste of time.”
“My time to waste, sweetheart.”
But he didn’t think it was a waste at all.