“Relatively speaking, it is. That’s why the department needs only one detective. But we have burglaries, domestic abuse, assaults, drunkenness and ugly traffic accidents just like anyplace else.”

And the occasional murder.

Seth had mentioned buying some Play-Doh, and now he said, “I need to cover that broken glass. Once I’ve done that, let’s be artists.”

Jacob liked watching Seth tack a piece of plywood he’d found in the barn over the upper half of the door. Robin tried to let Seth off the hook on the artist part—him buying the stuff in the first place was contribution enough—but he shook his head. “I need an excuse to play.”

Lacking any artistic ability, Robin was intrigued to see how deftly he created a variety of animals before squishing them out of existence to form the next. Jacob concentrated hard and made a creature he called a “doggie” that was semirecognizable and not a whole lot cruder than her own efforts, which Seth eyed with amusement.

Jacob settled down then with his Tobbles, a toy that he seemed to find endlessly fascinating. He could make towers, nest the individual pieces, spin them and laugh uproariously when he knocked the whole thing down.

Seth made coffee for himself and Robin, calling to check on his father while it brewed.

“Asleep,” he reported.

“During his whole career, he was never shot?” she asked, her guilt stirred again.

Seth shook his head, smiling. “Most cops aren’t. A lot never fire their own gun, either. Some of it has to do with where you work, some with how good you are at de-escalating tense situations, but luck plays a big part, too.”

“You wear one of those vests.”

“I do, in part because I have been shot. Didn’t feel good,” he added.

Robin hated the image of a bullet penetrating his flesh, him falling back, bloody and stunned like his father had been. Still, she was curious. “Were you, I don’t know, more nervous about doing your job afterward?”

He hesitated. “Nervous? No. More cautious? Yeah. It was a burglary in progress, and I’d left myself more exposed than I should have.” He shrugged. “Live and learn.”

Here she’d spent years with fear an ever-present companion, and Seth, who did a dangerous job, seemed blithe about the risks. Go figure.

He asked about her childhood, and she found herself sharing good times and bad. He opened up a little about losing his mother, probably because she’d just talked about her father’s death and how hard it had been to accept.

“When she was first diagnosed, I was still at an age to have some swagger,” Seth admitted. “On the job, I thought I could change the world. And why not? I’d never had big worries at home. Mom and Dad had a solid marriage, there were never any serious financial problems. I won’t say Grace and I were spoiled, but maybe close. As a kid, I thought my dad was a real hero, invincible.”

And he was, until she had come along, Robin couldn’t help thinking.

She said quietly, “Today he really was a hero. I’ll always see him that way.”

“Yeah.” Seth cleared his throat. “Yeah.” After a minute, he said, “Seeing him break down after Mom’s diagnosis, that really shook me. Of course she’d get better! My family was golden, right? Why wouldn’t he have faith?”

“He knew more than you did.”

His rueful gaze met hers. “Probably. To Grace and me, my parents tried to sound upbeat. Mom’s chemotherapy was going great. Sure, she lost her hair, but that summer was hot, and she bragged about how cool it was. Not having to wash, dry, style hair was a bonus. Maybe she’d stick to wigs and not bother growing her hair out again. She admitted to occasional nausea, but nowhere near as bad as she’d expected.” Seth gazed at the front window, seeing the past instead of the present, Robin guessed. “I was still living in Portland,” he continued. “Never occurred to me to wonder if I was getting the whole story. Until wham. Dad told me he was taking retirement. Mom had decided to refuse any more treatments. They weren’t working, and all they did was make her miserable.”

Robin reached across the sofa cushion separating them and took his hand. He grabbed on hard, sinews standing out on his forearm.

Tags: Janice Kay Johnson Billionaire Romance
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