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“Uh—” I heard him say, then heard his chuckle when he realized I had a shirt on beneath it.
When it was revealed fully, he scowled. “Is that?”
“Yep.” I couldn’t hold back the laugh. I’d liked his flannel on instinct when I’d first seen it, only to realize a half-second later that it was nearly identical to the brown-and-black plaid I wore.
“Wow,” he said, shaking his head. “Put your sweater back on.”
“No way,” I said, biting my lip to keep from laughing harder. “Looks like we’ve hit that phase of the relationship where we accidentally coordinate.”
His face twisted in mock horror, and he immediately pushed off the railing, turning like he was about to head back to the B&B. “I’ll go change. I can’t be seen like this. Sodomestic.”
He’d said the last word with a literal shudder, and I cackled at his back as he practically ran away from me. But before he could get far, I jumped up from the swing, grabbing his sleeve and tugging him away from the steps.
He let me, of course.
“Oh no, you don’t,” I said with a laugh as I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind. “You’re not goin’ nowhere. I kinda like the idea of us bein’ ‘those people.’”
I felt more than heard his rumble of laughter as I kept my cheek to his back. Then, he tugged on my hands and extricated himself from my grasp, only to turn to face me and wrap my arms around his waist once again.
He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching as he reversed, backing us up. He settled back against the railing and kept holding me firmly to his front. “You mean those obnoxious couples that show up everywhere in matching outfits? Those people?”
I shrugged, the grin still playing on my lips. “Could be worse. At least we both look good in this shirt.”
He shook his head, raising a hand to my cheek and dragging his thumb over it. The playful banter mixed with quiet sweetness between us felt so natural, so easy. Even as we avoided the bigger conversations—the ones we both knew were looming over us—this was our way of keeping things light. Maybe if we kept joking, kept teasing, it wouldn’t hurt so much when he inevitably left.
“So,” I said, keeping my tone casual, “how’s the case going?”
Tucker’s playful smile faded slightly, replaced by his serious look. He glanced out over the yard—right to the spot where he’d been shot—then back at me. “When are you going to stop staying here?”
I gave him a bland look.
“I mean it. Have Hope come stay with you at your parent’s place. It doesn’t make you even a little uncomfortable being here—on the front porch, no less—twenty feet from where I was shot?”
“Oh, wow, that’s exciting. Sounds like you guys are makin’ some real progress!” I said with a wide smile.
He sighed. “Fine. The case. We’re getting closer. Colt and I have been digging up more on Syd Wharton, and we found out he bought a piece of property right before he disappeared. We’re going to check it out tomorrow.”
“You think that’s where you’ll find the treasure?”
“We don’t have anything that suggests it’ll be there, but we don’t have any other leads right now, so it’s worth checking out.”
“Are you gonna bring me?” I asked, blinking up at him.
“Do I have a choice?”
I shook my head.
He only smiled, slowly lowering his forehead until it met mine.
The soft clinking of silverware and the low hum of conversation filled Hope’s cozy dining room, the warm light casting a soft glow over the rustic wooden table. It felt peaceful here—safe. But even with the comfort of Hope’s homey space and the smell of her famous cornbread in the air, the tension was still there, simmering beneath the surface.
We were halfway through dinner, the table scattered with plates of half-eaten food. I sat across from Tucker, who had his usual serious expression on, his brow furrowed in thought as Colt talked about the house we’d be visiting tomorrow. Hope was next to him, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She might’ve been a bit more worried about all of this than she let on.
Colt, though, had barely taken his eyes off Hope all evening. He wasn’t being obvious about it, but I’d been watching closely enough to notice the small, subtle moments. The way his eyes softened when she laughed, or how he leaned a little closerwhenever she spoke, as if every word she said was the most important thing in the room.
It would be a hot topic at our next girls’ night, no doubt about it.
“So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Hope asked, leaning forward slightly. “If you’re gonna do a stakeout, don’t forget to call it in on the non-emergency line.”
