Page 67 of Echoes of You

Nash pawed through the cabinet and emerged with a bag. “You got cheddar and sour cream.”

I sliced the sandwiches in two. “Yup.”

“But you don’t like cheddar and sour cream.”

“Nope.” I popped the P in the word.

Nash moved in behind me, his heat seeping into my back. “I think you just might like me, Mads.”

I did. Way too much.

* * *

I wavedto Nash as I parked by The Brew, choosing a much more public parking spot this time. I wasn’t taking any chances with my new tires. Nash returned my wave, but there was no smile on his face as he drove off.

The poor guy had slept horribly with his painful shoulder, and he was less than pleased about being on desk duty until he was out of his sling. Lawson had called last night to check on him and had informed him of the development. Nash had tried to argue that it was his left arm that was injured, and being that he was right-handed, he’d be fine. Lawson hadn’t agreed.

Nash did not do well with sitting still. I grinned as I got out of my SUV. I remembered when he had chicken pox in the second grade. He’d gone so stir-crazy he’d snuck out of the house and started walking to town. His mom had caught him just as he reached the gate and lost her mind. He’d told her that sitting around was boring and he was going to find me. Her solution had been to put a bell on his door so it notified her every time he opened it.

I started toward The Brew, already planning what I’d bring Nash for lunch to brighten his day. People milled about, tourists and townspeople alike. I didn’t pay close attention to the faces, but I should’ve.

A large figure stepped into my path. The stark white smile had a chill running down my spine.

“Hey, babe. I missed you.”

22

NASH

Clint wincedas I lowered myself into my desk chair. “That looks painful.”

I fought to keep the scowl off my face. “It’s not sunshine and roses. Especially when all I can pop is Tylenol if I’m working.”

He shook his head. “Man, you should’ve called off for a day or two at least.”

“And do what? I would’ve gone crazy.”

“Read a book. Watch some baseball. Get addicted to one of those reality shows about rich housewives with all the crazy chemicals in their faces.”

I snorted. “That does not sound like fun.”

“Nash doesn’t like anything that requires him to sit still,” Lawson said as he strode up.

I didn’t try to fight the scowl; I pointed it straight at my brother. “Which is why it’s annoying as hell that you benched me. I’ve still got my shooting hand.”

Lawson tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling as if praying for patience. “You just wrenched your arm out of its socket and put it back in. You’re not supposed to lift anything. I doubt you can run. What happens if you need to tackle a suspect?”

“I’ll use my good shoulder.”

Clint chuckled, and Lawson sent him a glare. “You’re not helping.”

Clint held up both hands. “Sorry, Chief.”

Lawson turned back to me. “I should put you at a desk for the six weeks Doc said it would take for you to recover fully.”

I gaped at him. “Did that traitor Holt tell you what she said?”

Lawson sighed. “Did ourbrotherkeep me in the loop about how your crazy ass was doing? Yes.”

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