Nash used the distraction to throw an elbow to my gut. The wind went out of me, and I bent to catch my breath.
“Face’s bleedin’, Chief,” Waylay cheerfully observed. “Got it all over that nice clean shirt of yours.”
I grinned. The kid might have belonged to Tina, but she was funny as hell. And she was in my corner.
Waylon abandoned his perch on the porch and ambled back into the road to greet the newcomers.
“Thanks, Waylay,” Nash said, swiping at his bloody mouth again. “I was just coming to see you two.”
While Waylay squished my dog’s droopy jowls between her hands, Naomi peered around my brother at me.
“What is wrong with you?” she hissed. “You can’t just start a fight with a cop!”
I slowly straightened, rubbing a hand over my sternum. “Doesn’t count as a cop. He’s my brother.”
Waylon shoved his nose under the hem of Naomi’s dress and stepped on her foot. He was a needy bastard.
“Well, hello,” Naomi crooned, crouching down to pet him.
“His name’s Waylon,” Nash told her.
“Waylon and Waylay,” she mused. “That won’t get confusing.”
My nose burned. My face fucking hurt. My knuckles were bleeding. But looking at her petting my needy-ass dog with an arm full of flowers made everything else start to fade away.
Fuck me.
I knew what attraction felt like. Knew what to do with it too. But not with a woman like this. One who didn’t know it was smart to be afraid of me. One with a wedding dress and no ring. One with an eleven-year-old. This was the kind of situation that had me heading for the hills. But I couldn’t stop looking at her.
“You’re an idiot.”
Nash grinned, then winced.
“And you,” Naomi turned on him. “I can’t imagine you take that badge very seriously if you’re fighting in the street with your own brother.”
“He started it,” Nash and I both said at the same time.
“Then we’ll leave you to it,” she said primly, putting a hand on Waylay’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”
“Heading to Liza J’s?” Nash asked.
“We are. We were invited for dinner,” Naomi said.
Waylay raised the plate she was holding. “Brought cookies.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Nash said. “We can talk on the way.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said, moving my chair out of the road.
“You’re not invited,” he said.
“Oh, yes, I am. Seven sharp.”
My brother looked like he was going to haul off and hit me again, which suited me just fine. Tarnishing his “aww, shucks” hero vibe would only further my cause. But just as I was about to goad him into it, Naomi stepped between us. Waylon followed her and sat on her feet.
The woman couldn’t read signs. She was a danger to herself, trying to get between two bucks itching for a fight.
“Did you find my car?” she asked Nash.