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"That's what I thought. Of course, it's probably gossip, but you know how folks talk. Supposedly, he beat up her brothers afterward. One's still in the hospital. Unconscious. Or was." He sighs and shakes his head like he's heartbroken about it. "It's a shame when someone keeps messing up after you give them a chance. I had a brother like that—not a womanizer, but a drunk. Wrecked his own life and nearly wrecked mine with it. Got me into all sorts of debt at one time."
He gives me a "what can you do" shrug. "Anyway, figured I'd do my neighborly duty and warn you about those coyotes."
"Right," I say flatly. "Next time, pass it along through one of the hands. No need to come all the way out here at your age."
His smile tightens. "Sure thing, partner."
He tips his hat and walks off, and I get back to the fence—but my mind's on his words. He's fishing. Setting traps. And I've got a sinking feeling this thing with Reed was part of it.
By the time I head back to the house, the sun's getting low. I walk in, expecting to find Reed—but I stop short at the sight in front of me.
Lennon and Hailey. Smiling at each other.
That throws me.
This morning, Lennon was in my study, practically foaming at the mouth, insisting on kicking her off the property. Now he's shoulder to shoulder with her over a mixing bowl, dusted head-to-toe in flour and wearing one of my fucking aprons. There's a warmth in the way they look at each other, something soft and easy. Like a little domestic scene that snuck up on them.
"Yeah, I think it needs more stirring," Hailey murmurs, glancing at the batter.
"I can still see lumps," Lennon agrees.
"Let me do it!" chirps Grace from somewhere behind the counter.
Ah. That explains a little. But not everything. There's something deeper in the air between them—a peace that wasn't there before.
"Okay!" Reed calls, entering from the hallway in another one of my aprons. My grandmother's apron, actually. The tight, over-the-head kind made for a woman. I barely wear it myself.
He wears it like he owns it.
"Well? How do I look?" he asks, hand on his hip.
"Great," Hailey says, cheeks pink. "A little tight in the waist."
"That's because Dean has a smaller waist than me. Guy's deceptively svelte for his size."
"You're gonna get killed," Lennon mutters.
"For calling him svelte? He already knows."
"Not for that—for stealing his favorite apron."
Reed grins. "Eh, it's fine. He won't be back till late, and I'll have it washed and back in its spot before he even notices."
I clear my throat, and all three of them jump.
Reed, unfazed, beams at me. "Hey, Dean. Just telling them how dainty your waist is. Hope you don't mind I borrowed the apron."
"I do," I say. "But that's not what I came to talk about."
"Uncle Dean!" Grace pops up from behind the counter. "Are you gonna make frosted lollies with us?"
I walk closer so I can see her face. "Later, sweetheart. Right now, Uncle Dean has work to do. And so does Uncle Reed."
Reed shrugs like it's nothing.
"I'll catch up later."
Hailey blushes. "But we haven't finished?—"