Page 59 of Deputy Brand Gets Her Man
Her cousin had a solid point. It was hard to believe a guy who’d jump fully clothed into a creek to save a puppy could be beyond redemption. But she wasn’t in the redemption business. She was in the law-enforcement business. When she fell for a guy, he had to come pre-redeemed.
No, she needed to leave Jeremiah alone. Period. She needed to end whatever was between them in no uncertain terms.
Either that or find out what he was really up to.
Tonight.
Country music played, the bonfire danced, and Jeremiah looked like her dream-man. Willow sat across the fire from him, watching him through the flames that danced in front of his face, striping it in yellow light and shadow. His hat was off, but nearby, and his golden hair was pulled behind his head in a band.
He was one of the gang around a central fire that included her six cousins and two cousins-in-law. Everyone had enjoyed a few beers—nearly everyone—so the mood was relaxed and easy.
Ethan, seated right beside his half-brother, gave him an affectionate slam on the shoulder as they both laughed at something. There was a serious bond shaping up between them. Willow thought back to when she’d warned Ethan not to get involved with Lily, because if it went bad, it might put a rift in the family.
Even as she thought it, Lily, sitting on Ethan’s other side with her lawn chair so close to his that their armrests overlapped, slid a hand over his knee.
She’d been wrong about that. It had worked out fine, they were married now and irritatingly blissful. Lily was one of the folks not imbibing in the beer, being pregnant and due right in the spring.
Jeremiah nodded at something Maria had said. Maria beamed back at him. She liked him. The whole family liked him. They’d wrapped their big Brand tentacles around him and made him part of the clan. They did that.
But he was up to something. He was looking for something. Something he must have reason to believe his father had buried there. Something metal, like coins, or jewelry, or gold. A little shiver raced down her spine.
He sat in a canvas lawn chair with his long legs stretched out in front of him, looking thoroughly relaxed, his dog lying beside him, snoring. The Gringo had a beer in his hand. It was the same one he’d been nursing all night. She’d been watching. He was pretending to drink it, but unless it was magically refilling itself, he wasn’t actually drinking it.
He’s even dishonest about that.
The flames shifted, lighting his cheek and casting that demon dimple in shadow. He must be smiling, she thought, her gaze shifting to his lips. Yes, he was smiling, but it was a slight smile, not meant to be widely seen, and it seemed mischievous. Her eyes shifted upward and found his already locked on her, beaming heat all the way through her, that mischievous hint of a grin for her alone. He shifted his gaze to the flames, took another fake gulp from his brown bottle, but midway through, he caught her eyes, and turned it into a real one.
Maybe deflection is his default, being raised in his old man’s citadel of crooks.
“We really needed a good bonfire,” Ethan said. “How you holdin’ up, Willow?”
Beside him, Lily nodded. “We were so scared for you.”
“I can imagine. I’m really sorry I put you all through that. I have the best family in the world.”
“She’s sorry she put us through it.” Baxter was on Willow’s left, his hair blond and shaggy, and the firelight made the lenses of his wire-rimmed glasses flash orange. He wore cargo pants and sneakers, and he reached across and gave her a shoulder-squeeze. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was a little bit my fault.” She lowered her head. Her greatest fear was failing at her job as a deputy. And so far, that fear was proving prophetic.
Drew said, “Uncle Garrett’s had the whole department on this. They found the motorcycle abandoned in a ditch a mile away from the accident. It had been stolen from a local who’d just bought it for his kid for his twenty-first birthday. Hadn’t even given it to him or licensed it yet.”
Drew glanced at her brother, Orrin.
Orrin nodded. “We have feelers out too, Willow. Mom, through her network and us through ours. So far nobody knows anything. The feelin’ is that causing a cop to wind up in a coma likely scared ‘em off.”
“Then I let ‘em get away,” Willow said, lowering her eyes.
“Come on, Will,” Trevor said. “You’re alive. You came close to not being. That’s worthy of celebration.”
“Hear, hear,” Harrison said, raising his beer. “Here’s to Willow being alive and well.”
“Hear, hear,” said Maria, leaning closer to her husband and raising her bottle.
Everyone lifted their beverage of choice. Jeremiah hoisted his bottomless beer, Lily her sweet tea, and when they all shouted, “To Willow.” The dog raised his giant head and looked around, alarmed.
Jeremiah patted him. “All good, Beans. Settle down.”
“He’s so calm, for a puppy,” Drew said.
