Page 31 of Deputy Brand Gets Her Man
“Deal.” Ethan sipped his coffee.
“I have one more thing, Ethan. But first, I need your word as a Brand that you won’t punch me in the face. All right?”
The big guy set his mug down slow and said, “All right,” in a slow, what-the-hell-is-this-now kind of a way.
“I want to say that…if there was anything between Willow and me—not that there is. Things couldn’t be more innocent here—but if there was, it would be between her and me, don’t you think? Her being a grown woman and a deputy sheriff and all? She might not appreciate you, getting?—”
If you disrespect my cousin, Jeremiah, I’ll have somethin’ to say about it, and I don’t much care if she appreciates it or not. You watch your step with her. She’s a sister to me.”
He hadn’t grabbed him again, but he might as well have. Jeremiah was shaken, not because he was afraid. He was smaller, quicker, meaner, and had more experience fighting. He was pretty sure he could take Ethan if he had to. His brother’s size would slow him down as much as his inherent kindness and empathy.
But he didn’t want to fight his brother. Ethan was all the family he had in the entire damn world, and suddenly, that meant something to him. It hadn’t before.
It was probably good to be aware that his brother wouldn’t be on his side if it came down to a choice between him, his blood, and the Brands, his adopted clan.
Finding Ethan had briefly made him feel a little less alone in the world. But that feeling’s dark opposite had crept over him again when he’d seen the warning in his brother’s eyes.
Yeah. He was on his own. Just like always. He should’ve known better than to think otherwise.
“Hello again Miz Sinclair,” Willow said, entering the interrogation room where the Montroses’ elder neighbor was waiting. Drew came in close on her heels.
When she’d first arrived, Willow had handed her cousin a blazer from her locker and told her to transform her ponytail into a bun. She’d done one better, with a sleek French twist, and from somewhere in her backpack, she’d pulled a pair of silver wire-rimmed glasses with lenses Willow thought were clear glass. She looked downright professional by the time she walked into the room behind Willow.
“This is Drew Brand, and she’s assisting me today. Drew, meet Abby Sinclair.”
Drew smiled warmly. “Abby, can I get you anything? I’m sure there’s coffee somewhere.”
“Sure, if you want to kill me,” Abby said sternly.
Drew went blank and shot a did-I-blow it-already? look Willow’s way. Then the old lady slapped her thigh and laughed hard, and slapped it again, and then stopped laughing, took a breath, and said, “Lord, I love messin’ with the young’uns.”
Drew closed her eyes, shook her head. “You really got me, ma’am,” she said. And then she pulled out one of the two chairs across from Abby and sat down.
“Our sketch artist should be arriving any minute now, and then we can?—”
The door opened behind them. A young man with sable curls, rectangular eyeglasses, and an oversized case in one hand looked around the room, then addressed Willow. “I’m Joshua Stone, lookin’ for Deputy Brand?”
“You found her,” Willow said. “This here’s our witness Abby Sinclair, and my uh?—”
“Drew,” Drew said. She’d risen from her chair and turned, and was holding out a hand, even though the young man’s were already full.
“Oh, uh…” He handed his coffee to Willow without looking at her, wiped his palm on his pleated khaki pants, then closed it around Drew’s. “Nice to meet you. Drew, is it?”
“Named after Nancy.”
His smile was involuntary and wide. “That’s cute. You’re a deputy, too, or…?” As he asked, his gaze moved down, no doubt noting she wasn’t in uniform.
“PI,” she said. Then, “Almost.”
He laughed when she added the almost, and she laughed because he had, and dipped her chin low, a pretty pink blush creeping up into her cheeks.
Willow cleared her throat, turning both heads, holding up the coffee that wasn’t hers.
“Oh, gosh, sorry.” Joshua took his cup back, laid his case on the table and sat down in the chair beside Drew’s, which was, after all, the only one available.
On the other side of the table, Abby was grinning from one of them to the other, a twinkle in her eyes.
“All right, Abby, if you can describe the person you saw, Joshua will try to sketch it out. And I’ve got some paperwork so…Drew will text me when you’re done.”
