Page 95 of Hidden Nature

“I can do that. I can tell you now…” He pulled out his phone, checked the work calendar. “We can start Thursday morning. I’m going to say two weeks because we don’t know what we might find when we start tearing things out.”

“I figured that. Second bath on the other side of the house. Not as bad as this one. Close, but not as bad. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay then. If you put your contact in my phone, I’ll get you an estimate by tomorrow.”

“I see why Dad likes you.” She took his phone, put in her number, her email.

“It’s mutual.” He pointed to the chevrons on her sleeve. “Doesn’t a sergeant have three of those?”

“Yes. I just got the promotion today.”

“Today? Well, hell. Congratulations, Sarge.”

“Thanks.” In that moment, she realized he was the first one she’d told.

“My parents are out to dinner tonight, so I’m going over a little later to tell them. So, if you happen to see them before I do, do me a favor and don’t mention it. Or the bathroom.”

“No problem.”

She tapped his drawing. “Did your dad—or mom,” she added, “build things?”

“No, they never built a thing.” He rose. “I’ll go get started on this. Thanks for the coffee, and the dog pointers.”

“I appreciate you moving on this so quickly. I’ll get your coat.”

Tic scrambled up, bounded after her.

“He already likes you better than me.”

She gave that quick laugh again. “A dog like this? It’s love at first sight whoever he meets.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have a dog. You’re really good with them.”

“I’m gone all day. Luckily, I have Mop—the family dog.”

Then it clicked. Theo talked about Mop. The Cooper family dog.

“I saw you.”

“Sorry?” She turned from the closet with his coat.

“Walking with the big shaggy dog. A few times along the lake.” Slowly, he remembered, as if recovering from a long illness. Not at all like the woman he’d spent most of an hour with.

He replaced that with “Your hair was longer.”

“It was, then I cut it.”

“I like it, if that matters. It suits your face.” Those magical eyes.

Thinking it wise to switch gears, he nodded toward the fireplace as he put on his coat. “Tell me you’re not going to leave that fire-truck red. You’re going to repaint, resurface, something.”

“It’s on the list.”

“That’s a relief. Let’s go, Tic. I’ll be in touch.”

He walked out through the thickening snow, boosted the dog into his truck.

He’d work up the estimate—he already had some of it figured anyway. And he’d look up the Natural Resources Police to find out why she carried a gun. And what he thought was a baton.

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