Page 6 of First Date: Divorce (Wyoming Marriage Association #1)

Without getting out of her rental SUV, K.D. Hamilton studied his two-story brick house like it was a crime scene. Eric could see her thanks to a combination of the last vestiges of daylight and the yard lights he’d installed.

It wasn’t that bad.

True, the artificial light highlighted what still needed to be done outside. His priorities had been the operational guts, then the inside. The outside would come next.

Eric turned away from the window as she continued to sit in the bland rental Tal Bennett arranged.

Maybe, he thought as he headed for the front door to greet her, he could slip her before pictures to prove how much better it looked than when he’d bought the hundred-plus-year-old property. But, yeah, it still had a way to go and didn’t stand up well in comparison to the Far Hills home ranch.

Oh, hell, maybe that critical assessment was her normal expression. Give her a break.

It had been a long, hard day. For both of them.

At least she’d had dinner.

His own darned fault he’d skipped the no-doubt delicious and generous dinner offered at Far Hills Ranch.

And for what?

To avoid a discussion of divorces and one spouse not wanting kids? Idiotic. That wasn’t what ended his marriage. Maybe a symptom, but definitely not the cause.

Not to mention he hadn’t got out of there fast enough to prevent Cully from telling him there’d be no avoiding any hang-ups he might still have on those issues, even before they went to Marriage-Save.

Cully hadn’t said it that way. He’d said he and Tal Bennett decided it made sense for K.D. Hamilton to stay with Eric until they went to Marriage-Save on Friday. Build the scenario, he’d said.

It was the way Cully looked at him that conveyed the messages about hang-ups, no use trying to avoid them, and get over yourself.

Annoying as hell that the guy was right.

Eric clattered down the outside steps — repaired enough that no one would fall through them, but not renovated yet.

“Glad you found the place okay.”

“Yeah. Navigation.” She’d already hooked a backpack over one shoulder and had her suitcase out.

“Let me get your suitcase.”

“Got it. Front door?”

“Yeah.”

She bumped the rolling suitcase over the uneven front walk, carried it up the rackety steps, and across the uneven front porch.

The moment he opened the front door for K.D., Pauline appeared in the hallway ahead, holding two folders.

“I printed out the information the sheriff sent, what Ellyn Griffin sent, plus what I found online so far about Marriage-Save. I figured you shouldn’t have that sort of thing on your phones in case somebody at Marriage-Save gets nosy.

There’s also a questionnaire so you can study each other.

” Without taking a breath, she added. “You could have helped her with her suitcase, you know. Suppose you’ll make her drag it all the way upstairs herself, too. ”

Before Eric could defend himself, Pauline went on. “You both need to fill out the questionnaires tonight, so you can memorize the answers tomorrow. No time to waste. I’ll test you. Need to be perfect, so it’s natural by Friday.”

“K.D. Hamilton, let me introduce my assistant Pauline Ohlrich. Who is almost as invaluable as she thinks she is, and far bossier than she’ll admit to,” Eric said.

K.D. smiled and extended a hand.

The same could be said when she’d greeted him in Cully’s office, except this was a real smile.

Pauline returned it.

They resembled two of those fairy godmothers from the cartoon version of Sleeping Beauty his sister had watched over and over and over until it ground into his head. The short, round fairy godmother and the tall, thin one.

In fairness, Pauline, though short, wasn’t as round as that fairy godmother. Plus, if you went by personality, she resembled Napoleon more than a fairy godmother.

As for K.D., she looked nothing like a kindly fairy godmother.

Nothing.

Not with those legs.

“Didn’t think you’d ever get here,” Pauline said.

“I told you not to wait,” he said. “Told you we were going to Far Hills Ranch, and you should go home at your regular time because I didn’t know—”

“Had to make sure you got this information and—” She frowned at him. “—paid attention to it. I knew you were back and getting nothing done from the pacing in your office. But I wanted to meet K.D. — or should I call you Deputy Hamilton?”

“K.D., please. May I call you Pauline?”

“Of course.” A queen might use that tone to invite a subject to kiss her ring. “You two better get a good night’s rest. We have lots to cover in the next few days. Go on, both of you.”

He picked up the suitcase and tipped his head toward the stairs, inviting K.D. to precede him.

“Sure, this time you don’t argue,” he muttered from behind her.

“Think I’m stupid?” she muttered back.

Giving no sign of having heard this exchange, Pauline said good night and departed.

“Just so you know, the idea of her waiting around to meet you? Don’t feel any guilt over that. Her apartment’s the lower level. And don’t let her tell you it’s in the basement, either. It’s walkout level and she’s taken possession of the garden.”

“You two appear to have an unusual relationship.”

“You can say that again. Feel like an emotionally battered employer more often than not. And I wouldn’t want to try functioning without her.”

Now at the landing, Eric turned and caught the tail end of K.D.’s smile.

“Your room is there on the right,” he said. He sounded a little hoarse.

“I can take my suitcase from here. Pauline’s gone.”

“She’d know. She has radar or Spidey sense or both. Besides, I have to make the bed.”

“I can—”

“My house, my job. Though you don’t have to turn in this early just because Pauline gave us homework.”

“I don’t mind. It’s been a busy day.”

“Yeah.”

He’d be an idiot to be disappointed at that. He’d spend enough time with this woman. He should do cartwheels for time to himself.

He got sheets from the linen closet, pulled back the comforter, and got to work.

From the far side of the bed, she said, “Toss the other side of that sheet over here.”

“I’m no domestic god, but I do know how to make a bed.”

“I didn’t offer help because I think you can’t make a bed. I need to know how you do it. Hospital corners? Yank a bedspread up to hide the mess? Something in between? That’s something a woman would know — unless she made all the beds.”

He met her gaze across the bed, saw challenge in her face. Beneath it, though, a flicker of vulnerability he hadn’t seen before. He snapped the sheet across the bed to let the far side float to her. “I should let you make it yourself. So you’d make your own bed and lie in it.”

She groaned.

They continued the task in quick order, the efficient movements not perfectly in sync, but companionable. The corners qualified as casual hospital. Each dropped a case-enclosed pillow on the bed to finish at the same time.

He looked across the expanse of comforter at her, and she looked back.

He cleared his throat. “I’ll say good night then. The closet’s behind you. Extra blanket if you want it.”

She turned to look in that direction, as if it might be tough to spot a closet door in the middle of a wall … or as if she wanted an excuse to stop looking back at him.

“Through this door—” He jerked his head to the door behind him. “—there’s a bathroom. Small but private.”

*

Private was good, she thought as she climbed into the bed with the homework from Pauline.

Still, even with a bedroom and bathroom to herself, she shared this space — his space — with Eric Larkin. She hadn’t planned on that when she’d packed.

First thing tomorrow, she’d shop for a few necessary items for that kind of sharing.

Right after she explored his house.

Only so she’d know how he arranged things.