“Yeah.” She grabbed a couple of sodas and followed me to the bed. “Your mom hung out for a while the first night, but after that I was on my own.”
“They were cool about it, though, right?”
“I got into it with your dad,” she said with a snort. “But I’m pretty sure I came out the victor.”
“Sure ya did,” I replied with a grin.
“Did you know Molly calls him Asa?”
“Yep.”
“He doesn’t let me call him Asa.”
“I don’t call him Asa either, if that helps,” I mumbled, dodging when she threw a piece of food at me.
“Just so you know, if you go to prison I’m not moving in with them,” she joked. I started to laugh, but when I looked up, her face had lost any trace of amusement. “You better not go to jail,” she whispered through her teeth. “I’m going to be super pissed if you do.”
“I’m not going to jail,” I said, setting my plate down on the nightstand. “Lincoln’s good. You should have seen this morning in court.”
“I couldn’t,” she ground out. “He told us we couldn’t come.”
“He knows what he’s doin’,” I promised, pulling her between my legs. “If he didn’t want you guys there, it’s for a reason.”
“I didn’t think it would get this far,” she said, setting her plate down so she could turn to face me. “I mean, I know we planned for it, but I didn’t think it would actually happen.”
“Ah, I knew you married me for my pretty face,” I teased, resting my hands on her hips as she knelt in front of me.
“I married you because it made sense,” she replied quietly, staring at my throat. “Because I wanted to protect you just in case.”
“You’re doin’ that,” I said, squeezing her hips. “You’re doin’ exactly what I need ya to.”
“I need to call those cops back.” She sighed. “And they’re going to want to ask me questions.”
“You don’t know anything, baby,” I reassured her. “Haven’t told you anything for a reason.”
“But I know enough,” she said, running her fingers through her hair. “I know enough to make them go looking. Even if I say nothing, I’m afraid they’re going to see something on my face or the way I move my hands or something.”
“These are small town detectives, Heather,” I replied. “This isn’t Law and Order.”
I sat there watching her freak herself out more and more, and had an idea.
“Get up,” I ordered, pushing her back. “Get dressed.”
“What?” She watched me in confusion as I pulled my jeans on.
“Come on, get up.” I threw a shirt on and grabbed my phone, sending out a few text messages as she pulled some clothes on. “Grab a sweatshirt,” I said. “We’re taking the bike.”
Twenty minutes later we were pulling back into the clubhouse. When I turned off the bike, she groaned and pinched my side.
“We just left this place,” she grumbled as she climbed off behind me.
“Come on,” I said, pulling her along.
I nodded to Poet who seemed to always be sitting at the bar, and smiled at Amy who was sitting next to him. Then I searched the room. My dad and Uncle Casper were sitting at a table talking, but looked up when I pulled Heather toward them.
“Hey, thanks for comin’,” I said, pulling out a chair for Heather. “Sit, babe.”
“Poker night?” Heather asked sarcastically. “I prefer Go-Fish, but I’m decent at poker.”
“They’re going to question you,” I said, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “Both of ’em got lots of experience—” I glared at Casper when he laughed. “They can get ya ready, make ya less nervous.”
“This is stupid,” Heather mumbled.
“It’s actually not a bad idea,” my dad replied. “Now go away, Tommy.”
“What?” I looked up in surprise.
“She won’t be nervous if you’re standin’ over her like that. Waste of time to be askin’ her questions if she’s not shittin’ her pants.”
“You have such an awesome way with words,” Heather said dryly. Then she tipped her head back to look at me. “Go. He’s right.”
“Alright.” I searched her face, making sure she was okay with it, then walked to the bar and planted my ass on a bar stool next to Poet.
“Good idea,” he said, nodding toward the group across the room.
“She was freakin’ herself out,” I replied, shaking my head. “Detectives already called her and she’s been puttin’ off callin’ ’em back.”
“They’ll find a way to her eventually. Might as well get it over with before she pisses them off,” Amy said, handing me a cup of coffee. “You want something stronger?”
“Coffee’s good,” I answered. “Thanks, Amy.”
I looked over my shoulder and watched as Heather crossed her arms over her chest, then huffed and dropped them back to her sides. She sure as hell didn’t look nervous yet.
“Poor timing for all of this,” Poet said, twisting his glass of whiskey around and around. “Suppose it’s never good timing, though, eh?”