“What in the holy hell are you doing? You can’t assault an officer of the law!”
Naomi floated into my line of sight, looking exactly like the high-class woman I didn’t want, exactly the type my brother did. Her hair was down now and daisy-free, draped over one shoulder, thick and sleek. Her eyes had lost the better part of the exhausted shadows. She was wearing one of those long sundresses that skimmed the tops of her feet and made men wonder what treasures lay beneath.
She was carrying a bouquet of flowers, and for a second, I wanted to know who the hell had given them to her so I could kick their ass.
Next to her was Waylay in shorts and a pink t-shirt, holding a plate covered in plastic wrap. She was grinning at us.
Nash used the distraction to throw an elbow to my gut. The wind went out of me, and I bent to catch my breath.
“Face’s bleedin’， Chief,” Waylay cheerfully observed. “Got it all over that nice clean shirt of yours.”
I grinned. The kid might have belonged to Tina, but she was funny as hell. And she was in my corner.
Waylon abandoned his perch on the porch and ambled back into the road to greet the newcomers.
“Thanks, Waylay,” Nash said, swiping at his bloody mouth again. “I was just coming to see you two.”
While Waylay squished my dog’s droopy jowls between her hands, Naomi peered around my brother at me.
“What is wrong with you?” she hissed. “You can’t just start a fight with a cop!”
I slowly straightened, rubbing a hand over my sternum. “Doesn’t count as a cop. He’s my brother.”
Waylon shoved his nose under the hem of Naomi’s dress and stepped on her foot. He was a needy bastard.
“Well, hello,” Naomi crooned, crouching down to pet him.
“His name’s Waylon,” Nash told her.
“Waylon and Waylay,” she mused. “That won’t get confusing.”
My nose burned. My face fucking hurt. My knuckles were bleeding. But looking at her petting my needy-ass dog with an arm full of flowers made everything else start to fade away.
Fuck me.
I knew what attraction felt like. Knew what to do with it too. But not with a woman like this. One who didn’t know it was smart to be afraid of me. One with a wedding dress and no ring. One with an eleven-year-old. This was the kind of situation that had me heading for the hills. But I couldn’t stop looking at her.
“You’re an idiot.”
Nash grinned, then winced.
“And you,” Naomi turned on him. “I can’t imagine you take that badge very seriously if you’re fighting in the street with your own brother.”
“He started it,” Nash and I both said at the same time.
“Then we’ll leave you to it,” she said primly, putting a hand on Waylay’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”
“Heading to Liza J’s?” Nash asked.
“We are. We were invited for dinner,” Naomi said.
Waylay raised the plate she was holding. “Brought cookies.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Nash said. “We can talk on the way.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said, moving my chair out of the road.
“You’re not invited,” he said.
“Oh, yes, I am. Seven sharp.”
My brother looked like he was going to haul off and hit me again, which suited me just fine. Tarnishing his “aww, shucks” hero vibe would only further my cause. But just as I was about to goad him into it, Naomi stepped between us. Waylon followed her and sat on her feet.
The woman couldn’t read signs. She was a danger to herself, trying to get between two bucks itching for a fight.
“Did you find my car?” she asked Nash.
“Did you find my mom?” Waylay asked.
“Maybe we should talk in private,” he suggested. “Knox, be a good neighbor and take Waylay up to the house while I have a few words with Naomi.”
“No way,” Waylay said, crossing her arms.
“Fuck no,” I agreed.
Our staredown lasted until Naomi rolled her eyes. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with. Please tell me what you found.”
My brother suddenly looked uncomfortable, and my interest piqued.
“Guess I’ll just get right to it,” Nash said. “I didn’t find your car yet. But I did find something interesting when I ran the plates. It was reported stolen.”
“No, shit, Sherlock. Naomi did that this morning,” I reminded him.
Nash ignored me and continued. “It was reported stolen yesterday by one Warner Dennison III of Long Island, New York.”