She meets my gaze, still puzzled.
“You don’t actually believe that shit, do you?” I ask, gesturing toward Bodhi’s exit.
“I don’t know what to believe. He’s not the arrogant man I walked away from, that’s for sure. He’s a lot more like the man I fell in love with, something I haven’t allowed myself to remember.”
I exhale frustration and rub my eyes. I’m not going to lecture her. That won’t solve anything. I drop my hand, and my gaze travels down her body and those long, tan, toned legs stretching on forever. “You look good in my shirt.”
Her confused gaze swings from me to her body, then back to me, this time with a smile. “You left it here the last time you went swimming. Possession is nine-tenths of the law.”
I laugh, an unexpected burst of relaxation from my chest.
“Look,” she says, “I appreciate having you in my corner, but I’m okay.”
I disagree, but I’m not going to start an argument after how well the night went between us. “Lock up.”
“I will.”
She closes the door, and I wait, listening to the locks turn before walking away from her for the second time tonight.
On my drive home, I leave the windows down to let the evening air cool my annoyance. I fill my lungs with the scent of freshly baled hay and sweet grass. I’ve discovered countless things I love about this small-town gig, and even though I’ve been saying I’m going to leave for San Francisco, I’m great at finding excuses not to. At least not yet.
My mind drifts back over the night and lands on Piper. It’s only a little after ten, so I decide to swing by her mom’s house. Better to explain what Chloe and I are doing now than later.
The subdivision is quiet. Karen’s SUV isn’t in the driveway, but every light in the small house is on, so I park at the curb and wander toward the front door. Some sort of rap-pop music streams from the open windows of Piper’s bedroom, along with female laughter.
I knock on the front door, and the laughter cuts out immediately. Then Piper’s feet sound on the wood floor.
It reminds me of better times, when Piper was little, when her father was alive. But now, instead of having Piper run at me so I can toss her in the air, the fifteen-year-old calls through the closed door. “Who is it?”
“Uncle Z.”
A moment of hesitation follows, confirming my gut feeling that Piper’s doing something she shouldn’t. She opens the door a few inches and stands in the gap. “Hey, what are you doing?”
“I think a better question is what are you doing?”
“Nothing, you know, just chillin’.”
I lift my brows. “Where’d your manners go?”
She shifts on her feet. “It’s just, you know, Mom’s not here, and she always says, ‘Don’t let anyone in while I’m gone.’”
“We both know I’m not ‘anyone.’ I’ve known you since you were in diapers.”
Her eyes go wide, and her voice dips. “Uncle Z.”
“If your mom’s not home, who’s here with you?”
“No one. Just me.”
Irritation springs to life. “Piper, what is it going to take for you to stop lying to me?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Stay in school,
kid,” I reach over her head and push the door open, “because you suck at lying.” I pass by her and call down the hall. “Whoever’s here, come out.”
Out saunters Willow Raven, a disaster waiting to happen. “If it isn’t the hottest cop in town.”