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Hank’s mother only lived a few years longer than his father. With his daddy gone, it was as if she’d lost the will to live. At that point, Porter and Sharon became Hank’s family. And when Sharon passed, that family shrunk to just the two of them. Which was why this conversation needed to happen.

“She told me about the two of you and the night you spent together.”

Hank had to hand it to Porter. The man had one hell of a poker face, always playing his cards close to his chest.

“Okay.” Porter’s voice was deep, quiet, emotionless.

“Sort of surprised you never mentioned it.”

“She told you when it happened?”

Last year. Right after Sharon’s death. “She did. And I can see keeping it quiet at the time, but…” But it had become increasingly obvious in the last few months that Hank was interested in Macie. Hell, Porter was the one to point that out.

“You and Macie are a good match. Didn’t want to get in the way of you asking her out. Figured what happened between her and me didn’t matter. It was one time. Neither of us was looking for more than that night. And to be honest, there was a lot of whiskey involved.”

“Yeah. That’s what she said.”

“She was torn up about her friend Johnnie’s death, and…”

Porter didn’t bother to finish his thought, but Hank got it just the same. Neither one of them was very good at saying Sharon’s name out loud to each other. Even now. Her death had left a hole. In both of their lives.

“You sure you’re okay with me and Macie being together?” Hank forced himself to ask.

Porter gave him a curious look. “Why wouldn’t I be? Hell, man, I was the one who told you to pull your thumb out and ask the girl for a dance.”

Hank shrugged. “Maybe so, but, well…dammit, you were there first.”

Porter laughed. “So what?”

“So I feel like I might have stepped on your toes or something. I mean, Macie’s a hell of a catch.”

Porter rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Coop. You’ve got it bad. Macie is a handful on a good day and most men in town know that. You’re the only one who doesn’t seem to get worn out by all that talking of hers. So believe me when I say, I’m fine letting you take that whirlwind on.”

Hank frowned, unable to understand how Porter could have had Macie in his arms for a single second and let her go. “You’re kidding, right? Macie is as sweet as they come.”

For a moment, it appeared Hank had rendered his friend speechless.

When Porter failed to respond, Hank continued, “There’s not a damn thing hard about being with her. She’s beautiful, straightforward, honest. I never have to guess what she’s thinking.”

Porter’s grin grew as Hank made his list. “Yeah. That. Right there. The woman tells you every thought in her head. As she’s having them.”

Hank lifted one shoulder casually, dismissing that complaint. “I don’t mind. I think she’s interesting. Funny.”

“Which is why the right man is dating her. It’s cool, Coop. You didn’t steal my thunder or my girl or whatever it is you’re worrying about. You and Macie are a good couple and,” Porter paused, swallowing heavily, “I’m really glad you found her. Unlike me, you were not made to live alone. You were born to love a woman. She’s lucky to have you.”

And then, because it appeared to have embarrassed him to have said something nice, Porter turned away from him, opening up a fresh can of oil. “Not sure oil is going to make this hunk of junk run any better.”

Before Hank could thank him for the kind words, the sound of a car coming down their lane caught his attention.

Porter’s murmured “shit” clued him in to who was arriving even before he turned around. Hank had been surprised Janice hadn’t made an appearance at his place last night, questioning him about Macie, but then he remembered Wednesday was her book club night. Sharon had been in the same club, attending the meetings right up until the cancer left her too weak to walk.

He forced himself not to scowl as Janice parked the car and emerged. She smiled and waved, but Hank didn’t return either gesture. In truth, his patience with his wife’s best friend was at an end.

Sharon, God bless her, had asked Janice to keep an eye on him after her passing. Somewhere along the line, Janice had changed the interpretation of that request from something friendly to something much more. In her mind, she’d twisted those words to mean she should be the next Mrs. Hank Cooper, and while he had taken care thus far not to hurt her feelings—out of respect for Sharon—that kindness was wearing thin.

“Janice,” he said.

“Hey, Coop, Porter,” she said with a sunny smile. She was a friendly, if flighty, woman. He’d teased Sharon a bit when she was alive, constantly wondering how an intelligent woman such as her could hang around with an airhead like Janice.