I waited until I heard the front door close behind him before I murmured, “Yeah, me too, sailor.”
CHAPTER
SIX
HAYES
“Where are my eggs?” Mrs. L asked when I came through the back door of the main house, built by the woman herself, along with her husband back when they were newlyweds. Lots of changes had occurred since then, like Mr. Ledger passing on, but plenty stayed the same. Like the vintage linoleum floor and appliances. There was a modern commercial kitchen in the bunkhouse that had been designed to feed many mouths at once, but Mrs. L stuck to hers. The scent of lemon and vanilla clung to the warm air.
I stopped short at the older woman’s question, then my neck heated when I remembered the sole reason I’d gone into town in the first place. Eggs for her cake. Not spectacular sex with Megan.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. Three hours had passed. Three hours and no eggs.
I let the screen door slap behind me, and I tucked my hands in my pockets. “I forgot them.”
There was no other answer besides the truth although fiercely edited. I’d forgotten them because I’d been balls deep in the most stubborn, prickly, and incredible woman I ever met.
Mrs. L hmphed and grabbed a plastic dome from the counter. “I figured as much and made lemon bars instead.” She set the lid on a blue base that had a plate loaded with yellow squares dusted with powdered sugar and secured it closed.
I was feeling like the biggest asshole until she looked up and gave me a smile. Then winked. “Run into a certain deputy?”
My ears went hot. “Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. L was like my nana–she saw everything. As much as my family tried to protect our matriarch from knowing a faction of her family had organized as Albuquerque’s drug lords–which was the reason my parents had sent me off to the Navy the day I graduated high school–she knew. She’d always known everything.
“You’re perfect for her, Hayes.” Her voice was soft as the grandmotherly look.
“Perfect for who?” Kennedy asked, coming into the kitchen. He grabbed a lollipop from the jar on the counter. I seriously didn’t know how he kept those teeth so healthy and gleaming white considering how much sugar he ate.
The security company’s command center was still in Mrs. L’s sewing room. It would be finished soon in the converted barn–the one I’d screwed Megan against–but in the meantime, Kennedy and all his equipment had taken over most of the lower floor of the house. Mrs. L embraced it along with anything else that came up.
I knew after her husband–Ford’s grandfather–passed away, she’d been alone here on the property for a few years. Ford’s forced departure from the Navy and return had been good for her. Having all of us here certainly kept her busy although I’d never met a woman who had her hands in more things than Mrs. L.
“Megan Hager,” Mrs. L said. “They spent the afternoon together.”
Kennedy’s red brow arched. “That so?”
I scratched the back of my neck. I was twenty-eight years old and felt like I’d been caught sneaking in after curfew.
“You should take her to dinner,” she continued. “No, bring her here for dinner. I’ll make a pot roast.”
My mouth watered, but I gave her a look. She knew that was my favorite meal she made. “You’re playing dirty,” I told her.
“Ford found his woman although those two took almost ten years to figure things out. I take you to be smarter than my grandson.” Mrs. L leaned toward the window over the sink and looked out. “Don’t tell him I said that.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. She made me miss my Nana. “No, ma’am. But you’re right. I am smarter.”
“Then bring her to dinner.”
I shook my head. “Megan wants to take things… slow.” As in non-existent.
Mrs. L pursed her lips and nodded. “That makes sense.”
“Sense how?”
Mrs. L was in her seventies and had lived in Sparks her entire life. Her husband had been in the military, served in Vietnam, but she’d stayed and waited for him to return. She knew everyone in town and was in every activity possible. If there was a stone that needed turning, Mrs. L would point it out and already know what lay beneath.
Going to the counter, she collected a pile of white napkins and set them on top of the cake holder. “She’s… cautious.”
I went to the fridge and grabbed the pitcher of tea. I poured myself a glass as I spoke, trying to keep things light. I didn’t want to ask too pointed questions, but I wanted answers. Megan trusted me with her body, but if I had any chance of opening up her heart or seeing inside that head of hers, I needed a little help. “It’s smart she’s careful because of her job and all. She’s good at it. Saw her on a traffic stop today. She’s been with the department five years?”