Page 7 of Too Broken to Love

The more information you give the cops, the more they have to hang you with.

Shut up, Frank.

She pushed his voice away, but the truth in his warning lingered. Hudson wasn’t a cop, but he exuded power and strength, and he didn’t trust her intentions with his grandfather. She’d done nothing wrong—this time—and she wouldn’t give him a speck of ammunition to think otherwise. “Sam is my friend, and the kindest, most caring man I’ve ever met.”

Unlike his grandson who couldn’t hold a conversation without unwarranted judgment. So much for her superhero on the fridge.

Hudson set his drink down and crossed his arms over his chest. “And that’s all you know about Sam Langley?”

If Hudson’s stance didn’t holler distrust, his tone did.

With a tilt of her head, she mirrored his pose, minus the chiseled forearms and biceps threatening to rip the stitching of his shirt sleeves. “That’s all I need to know. I’m going to check on him again.” She stepped toward the counter and reached for her phone. Her present lay next to it. Picking up the ring, she rolled it between her fingers. “Where the hell is he?”

“Son-of-a-fucking-sea bass.”

Tessa spun toward Sam’s favorite saying. Hudson’s gaze locked on the ruby.

Her breath hitched as he reached for her hand. She tried to snatch it away. The evasion techniques hammered into her by Frank had conditioned her to be quick, but Hudson was quicker.

“Is that Pop’s ring?”

Hudson let go of the woman he’d thought was Pop’s age who may or may not be a gold—well, ruby-digger. But the flash of panic he’d caught in Tessa’s eyes when he’d reached for the ring wasn’t a manufactured sympathy act.

Shit.

He’d caused that visceral reaction with his aggressive move, but the doctor in him sensed her distress had been building long before today. The tears she couldn’t contain hinted at a relationship with Pop deeper than tenant and landlord. “Mind telling me why you’re holding my grandfather’s most prized possession?”

She’d better have a good explanation. It gutted him that he didn’t already know about Pop and Tessa’s friendship.

Tessa glanced from the ruby she held to the velvet box on the counter. “Sam gave me the ring. Not sure why. My birthday was last month.”

Hudson caught the defensive tone in her voice. “And how old are you?”

“Thirty.”

His estimate of her age had been off a few years, and not in the direction her looks suggested.

Since he’d walked into the house, he hadn’t stopped looking.

He had a weakness for women with sun-blushed, freckled cheeks. “Shouldn’t you be spending your Saturday with your friends at the Tiki Bar instead of having chili with an old man?”

“Their chili sucks. And Sam’s bringing home a striped bass to cook up.”

The deep red ruby in her hand caught the sunlight as she pulled up a photo on her phone. Despite his questions about the ring, Hudson couldn’t help but grin at the respectable-sized fish Pop was holding. “Nice catch.”

She shrugged. “Not as plump as the one I caught last week, but I’ll be able to get some thick fillets out of it.”

“Pop lets you fillet his fish?”

“Yes. Doesn’t he let you?”

“Of course. I’m better at it than him.”

She shoved her hands in her shorts pockets and rocked on her heels. “That’s not what Sam says.”

The snark in her tone flamed like the red glints in her auburn hair. But even though her shoulders relaxed and the little divot between her eyebrows disappeared when she spoke about cutting up a bass, he still needed answers.

“Pop never takes that ring off from around his neck. Ever. It doesn’t make sense that he’d give it to anyone.”