Colton's Lethal Reunion (Coltons of Mustang Valley)

He would have liked to go home and refill his overnight bag. Instead, he changed into the flannels and T-shirt that were still in his duffel from the night before and gave the rest of his clothes to Kerry to throw in the wash. The pants were dry clean only and might not survive, but if they didn’t they were easily replaced.

She’d barely said a word to him, other than telling him she’d do his laundry. He’d followed her home and, at her earlier instruction, parked his truck in her garage, then waited as she pulled into the driveway behind him.

He could easily have stayed at Marlowe’s condo.

He could have called Ace or got a room at the Dales Inn.

He could have done a lot of things.

He did what felt right rather than what the family would have expected of him. The distinction was small. Overall no one watched over where the others slept. But somehow over the years, family expectations had become a major measure in the choices he made.

“I just got off the phone with Bubba’s,” Kerry said, coming in from the laundry room to join him at the dining room table. He’d insisted on a stop at Colton Oil to collect the laptop he had there. If nothing else, he had financials to study that night. “I ordered a couple of rib plates.”

One of his favorite meals of all time. Even with his well-traveled palate. He glanced at her, ready to ask if she’d remembered, and then stopped. He’d given her his word that he would never again ask her to have sex with him. He was going keep that word, which meant he couldn’t be taking any trips down memory lane. With or without her.

Seeming to be on par with his mental state, she spent the next several minutes giving him the details of Grant Alvin’s autopsy. “The coroner ruled his death a homicide. And since he was killed, and even lying in a position similar to Tyler, this should be enough to get Tyler’s body exhumed,” she said. “To have my brother’s death ruled a homicide will let us open an official investigation. Not that I’m going to rock that boat at the moment, but that fingerprint Dane told you about? It’s from Alvin’s neck. If we get a hit, we’ll know who killed him.”

That was the best news he’d heard all day. He told her so and followed it quickly with, “Is there anything back on the rock that was used to hit you yesterday?”

She shook her head. “No clear prints. But if we get this guy tonight, the chief will probably get a full confession out of him. He’s the best interrogator I’ve ever known.”

He wanted to be the best she’d ever known. And was truly glad to know that she had people in her life who were far better at some things than he was. She was looking at him. They’d been talking about the case.

He had to keep his mind focused. Stop trying to make things personal.

“Did you have a chance to look up Nan Gelman?” he asked, because it was the first case detail that sprang to mind.

“I was just getting started when you called,” she told him, leaving him to wonder what else she’d been working on. To be followed by a reminder to himself that it was none of his business.

Starting up her laptop, she sat down, still fully dressed in the clothes she’d worn all day, besides the gun she’d taken off and laid on the table beside her. Her hair was still tightly secured in a ponytail. He figured that for a good thing. The last thing he needed was to have those long auburn tresses moving freely around him.

“You mind if I set up here?” he asked, pointing to a spot where, with a couple of folders moved, he could have some free space.

She grabbed the folders, showed him the closest electrical outlet, offered an extension cord and then sat down to work.

If he was lucky, he’d make it through the night just fine.

* * *

They ate dinner while they worked. Kerry directed Rafe to help himself to anything he wanted to drink, told him where to find things, and sat down with her cardboard box filled with ribs and coleslaw. Had she been alone, she’d have had a glass of wine. With Rafe there, she stuck to water.

“You done there?” His question broke the silence that had fallen over them for most of the evening. She looked up to see him pointing to her mostly empty dinner container. His, which looked as though it had practically been licked clean, was in his hand.

“Yeah, thanks,” she said, handing it to him. He was standing. She was sitting. Which put the crotch of those flannel pants right in her line of vision. She closed her eyes. And then jumped up. She’d forgotten the laundry. “I’m going to put your things in the dryer,” she said. And pretended to herself that she wasn’t fantasizing as she pulled each piece of his laundry from the washer, one at a time, touching each one, as she tossed it into the dryer. The underwear was last. Boxer briefs. Two pairs. Not one.

He’d had on a black pair the night before. She’d just thrown a black pair in the dryer and the last item of clothing was an identical pair. Only these were blue. Obviously donned after his shower that morning. So... What was he currently wearing?

The answer was fairly obvious. Those flannels were it.

The woman inside her got a little bit excited at the thought.

Chapter 16

Kerry’s phone rang just before nine. “It’s Dane,” she said, and he listened while she mostly just said, “okay” and “thank you.” There were a few other things, a “you, too” and “yeah.” The last was accompanied by a smile. He wanted to know what the other man had said that made her smile.

Like he was jealous.

Was he jealous?