Page 36 of Murder in Calusa Cove
“Because the two of you need money.” Fletcher laughed before taking his wine glass and easing into one of the big Adirondack chairs. Baily chose the one next to him.
That was progress.
Hayes handed Chloe some wine and waved to the seats over by Dawson next to Foster and Mackenzie. Hayes loved nights like these. They reminded him of why he’d follow these men to the ends of the earth. Everything was so easy with them. There was no pretense. What little drama they had, they got over quickly. They knew how to express their feelings—to get them out at the appropriate time, deal with them, and move on.
Trinity and Audra fit like a fine pair of driving gloves, and Baily had always been part of the group, even if her role had been strained.
She was family.
He stole a glance at Chloe’s profile as she stretched out her sexy legs in front of the file. Chloe belonged to this group. He couldn’t deny that. He wouldn’t deny it.
But that sent him toward a door he could never open, and he wasn’t sure he could do it now.
“Anyway,” Dawson continued, “his door was ajar, and I peeked in. He was lying in bed, and his arms were flapping about like a bird about to take flight, but that wasn’t even the funniest part.”
Hayes groaned. It wasn’t as if Dawson hadn’t told this story before. “I sat up, looked Dawson square in the eye, and told him to drop to his knees and pray for forgiveness. To pray to see the light, brother. To open your heart to Jesus. Then I flopped back, sighed, blinked a few times, and asked him what the fuck he was doing in my room, staring at me, while he was wearing Aquaman boxers.”
Everyone burst out laughing hard as if it was the best damn joke ever. Only, Chloe snorted, which caused everyone to stifle their chuckles and stare.
Chloe covered her mouth, but she kept snorting.
“She does that when she can’t stop laughing.” Hayes rolled his eyes. “It’s not that funny.”
Chloe cleared her throat. “It’s not what you said in your sleep then, but what you said last night.”
“Excuse me?” He turned and cocked his head.
“At about three in the morning you poked me in the arm and asked me if I wanted to hear a funny joke. I actually said no, but you kept talking.” Chloe smiled.
“He doesn’t tell jokes,” Keaton said. “Then again, he doesn’t talk about God, church, or religion either.”
“Sweet, Jesus. Please tell me I didn’t spout off corny firefighter jokes?” Hayes leaned back and winced. When he’d been a sniper, he’d dated one chick who’d told him he made all sorts of weird comments in his sleep about the size of his weapon. That relationship hadn’t lasted very long, which wasn’t a bad thing.
Chloe nudged him. “Something about what firefighters say when a church catches fire—holy smoke.” She smacked her forehead. “And then you said a fireman’s favorite game was hot potato and asked me if I wanted to play. I nearly died. Had to bury my face in a pillow to keep from waking you up.”
“Those aren’t even funny, man,” Keaton said, shaking his head with a grin. “But we’ve all heard him mumble nonsense in his sleep. We love him anyway.”
Fletcher lifted his wine glass. “Since tonight’s about celebrating love, let’s raise one to the couples—and to Keaton and Trinity and their little one on the way.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Keaton said.
“Someone better grab Audra a drink,” Chloe said.
“I’m good with water,” Audra said, holding up her bottle, glowing under Dawson’s beaming gaze.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Keaton chuckled, resting his hand on Trinity’s knee. “Our kid’s gonna have a little cousin close in age.”
“They sure are,” Dawson said, kissing Audra’s temple.
“Congrats, man,” Foster added. “Too bad you’re not going first, because this guy”—he nodded at Keaton—"is gonna be clueless.”
“Hey, you’re the one who dropped me on my head,” Keaton fired back with a laugh.
The laughter rippled around the circle, but Hayes barely heard it.
He raised a hand to his chest, suddenly aware of the pressure, tight and sharp, like an invisible weight had been dropped onto him. He couldn’t catch a full breath. The sound around him blurred, voices and laughter turning to static.
They were teasing. Celebrating. Doing what they always did—being family.
