“He is.”
Griffin tensed. “Pity the rest of his character is less admirable.”
“We’re all children of light and darkness,” she said. “It’s up to us to choose which side wins out.”
The comment relaxed Griffin the slightest degree. Then he dipped his face into her hair.
“Rae,” he murmured, “you’re growing a mystical side.”
“Strange, isn’t it?”
“Kind of like you’re growing a second brain. One nothing like the original. Who knew?” Playfully, he nipped at her ear as he steered the conversation in a new direction. “Your parents’ cow in the way-back-then. Didn’t Butter have two stomachs?”
“A cow has four stomachs.”
“Maybe you’ll grow four brains. It’ll be interesting to watch.”
“Ha-ha.”
Usually she dominated in the teasing department. It was nice that Griffin was catching up. Maybe he was growing new aspects to his personality too.
After a moment, she said, “I’ve been through some hard times. They either tear you up, or compel you to find a deeper meaning.”
“Good point.”
Griffin seemed about to kiss her. Instead, he smoothed the hair from her brow. Setting her aside, he strode out of the room.
“Where are you going?” She felt adrift without the warmth of his arms.
The feeling dropped away when he returned.
He placed a handgun on the table. A semiautomatic. It would fire one shot each time the trigger was pulled.
“Griffin, why do you have a gun? You hate guns.”
“As much as you do,” he agreed. “If Mik comes to the farm looking for Quinn, it takes time to call the police. I’ll sleep better knowing you have protection.”
“He won’t go that far,” she said, aware she wasn’t sure. Would Mik dare?
Griffin asked, “Do you remember the basics? Don’t load a weapon until you’re ready to use it. Wash your hands afterward—bullets contain lead. Keep the ammo separate from the firearm.”
“Stop. I remember the basics—mostly of using a rifle. Your father only gave me a few lessons with handguns. They weren’t Everett’s preferred weapon to pick off wildlife.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust, adding, “I hardly remember those lessons.”
“We’ll visit a shooting range next week, for practice.”
A strip of ribbon encased the bullets. “Is this a gift from Everett?”
“Presented to me at my housewarming party.”
Meaning the weapon had been stuffed in a drawer for the last two years. “What did Winnie give you?” she asked, picking it up.
“Stoneware and a gift certificate to a kitchen store.”
“God bless your mother. She’s elegance personified.” The gun felt heavy in Rae’s hands. A device made for one purpose only—to kill. Quickly, she set it back down. “My dad thought we should buy a gun, after my first confrontation with Penny. I vetoed the idea.”
“I’m overriding your veto. You’ve given me a lot to digest, Rae. I need to think. And I need you to keep the gun until I get everything worked out.”
“If Everett refuses to fire his favorite mechanic, I don’t see what you can do. Further, you don’t have my permission to tell your dad what I shared with you in strict confidence.”
“I wouldn’t discuss this with my father under any circumstance. As for Mik, he’s already lost his job. It took some doing, but I finally got my father to fire him.”
She geared up to ask how he’d managed the feat. The look in Griffin’s eyes quelled her.
Anxiety pinged through her. “What are you planning?” Griffin was a tortoise. Careful, sure to analyze the problem of Mik Galecki from every angle. There was no telling what he was mapping out.
Her phone buzzed.
“I pried Quinn from his bedroom,” Connor announced in a voice loud enough for Griffin to overhear. “Now he’s beating me at poker.”
The lighthearted disclosure made the moment feel surreal. Dragging her attention from the gun, she cleared her throat.
“How’s your tummy, Dad? Are you still regretting the double doses of Italian food?”
“I’m better. The ginger tea helped. I’ve had three cups. What’s keeping you? Me and Quinn need a third for our poker tournament.”
“I’ll be home soon.”
A grin lifted the corner of Griffin’s mouth. Then he gave her a look: Just tell your dad where you are.