then that’s exactly why you should have called. We’ll have something on record in case there are other incidents, and if we see a pattern.”
“That sounds good.” Though she couldn’t imagine what pattern they’d see. Fireworks didn’t match a criminal profile that she knew of. It appeared to be more a case of overactive imagination on her part.
Jeff and Gabe told what they remembered, and then they took the police officer to the spot where they’d found the firecrackers. She watched as he shoved the evidence into a plastic bag and walked back up to where she waited.
“I’ve got a description of the car and what you think the passenger looked like. I’ll take this in and we’ll call you if we find anything. If you do see that car again, call. And if you can get a license number without putting yourself in danger, that would help.”
“Thank you, Officer.” Sophie watched him leave, and then she glanced at her watch. It was almost two o’clock on a Saturday afternoon. The two guys standing in front of her looked as if they would rather be anywhere but here.
“What now, Ms. Cooper?” Jeff, tall and lanky, picked up his tool bag and strapped it around his waist. He pushed his ball cap down on thinning hair.
“Let’s go home, guys. The supplies are here. If the two of you and a few others want to do more on the frame next week, everything is ready to go.”
“That sounds good.” Gabe picked up the toolbox he’d left near her truck. “Call if you need anything at all.”
“Thanks, Gabe.” She smiled at the younger man. He was single and unemployed for the time being so he had signed on to help a few of his married friends build houses. His experience in so many areas of construction made him a valuable part of the team.
After the two of them left she got into the old truck she’d bought a few weeks ago. She eased down the gravel drive, and at the road she didn’t turn toward her house. Instead she turned left, and then into the driveway of the old West homestead.
Keeton’s truck was parked close to the front door. She sat for a minute staring at the old farmhouse with the dark green siding. She’d loved this place years ago when his grandparents were alive. It always reminded her of trees in the summer. Dark green with brown trim around the windows and brown shingles. Irises bloomed profusely around the house, leftovers from tubers his grandmother had planted. When she bought her house a few years ago, she’d dug up several and replanted them around her front porch.
The front door opened. Keeton walked out and then leaned against the post. She laughed because he looked cool, pretty cute, actually. Until the post he chose to lean against wobbled and came loose. He fell to the side and righted himself.
His smile zoomed across the yard, bright with white teeth that flashed.
“You getting out?” he called out to her.
She shouldn’t. Not if she had any sense at all. She’d always been the Cooper kid most likely to use common sense. Lately something had happened. Maybe an early midlife crisis?
Instead of waving goodbye and leaving, she got out. Her heart raced ahead of her. And then guilt rushed in. It ached deep down, tangling with the past and with this moment.
“Don’t look like you just stole the teacher’s apple.”
“Why would a teacher ever really want an apple?” Was that the only thing she could come back with? “I mean, really, wouldn’t she be glad if someone took it? Wouldn’t she prefer a student give her chocolate?”
“You’re overthinking this.”
She cleared her throat and nodded. “Of course I am. I’m Sophie Cooper, I always overthink.”
“Right, and where has that gotten you?”
For a moment she thought about that question. But then she heard the baby from inside the house, crying. “I think someone wants you.”
“Right. Are you coming in?” He headed toward the house, not waiting for her. “You didn’t answer. Where has overthinking gotten you?”
He glanced back over his shoulder as he walked up the steps of the porch.
“Overthinking has kept me out of trouble.” And kept her heart virtually pain free for sixteen years. Poor atrophied heart. It needed serious physical therapy if she ever planned on using it again.
She followed Keeton through the front door. He had already picked up Lucy and had her cradled against his chest. “She’s pretty warm.”
Sophie kissed the baby’s brow. “Very. Have you given her the medicine?”
“Yeah, when I got back.”
“And a bath?”
“Not yet.” He smiled and there was something different about a cowboy smile when the cowboy was holding a baby. “I haven’t read the book.”
Sophie reached for the baby and he handed Lucy over.
“Run lukewarm water in the sink. We’ll start there. I’ll give you a crash course in baby bathing and you can read your how-to manual later.”
“Thanks, Sophie, I owe you.”
“No, you don’t.” She followed him into the kitchen. He turned on the tap and washed out the sink. “Do you have baby soap?”
“Yeah, let me get the water going and I’ll go get the supplies I bought at the store.”
Regret—Sophie had a lot. And after today, she’d have more. Hip against the counter, she watched as he plugged the sink and then rummaged through the plastic bags on the counter, pulling out the soap, washcloth and towel. He held up a little sleeper, pink with ponies on the front.
“Sweet. You did good.” Sophie spread the towel on the counter and slipped off the dirty sleeper. She dropped it on the floor and waited for it to get up and walk away on its own. It was that dirty.
“Now what?”
“You can throw that sleeper away.”
“Done.” He picked it up and tossed it in the trash. A second later he was at her side again. He smelled good. Spicy with a hint of a pine forest mixed in. It was the kind of scent that made a woman want to lean in close.
If it were any other man. If she was any other woman. She sighed and let go of need, held on to strength.
“In the bath she goes.” Sophie lifted the baby, and before putting her in the water, tested it to make sure it wasn’t too hot or cold. “Perfect. Maybe this will help break that fever. And I’m sure she’ll feel better.”
“Soph, I appreciate this.”
“Of course you do, because you think I’m going to do all of the work. Surprise.” She cradled the baby in the water. Lucy tested the surface of the water with pudgy little fingers, and then she splashed just a little. “Hold her like this and then squirt a little soap on the washcloth. It doesn’t take much to wash a baby, Keeton. Even her hair. There isn’t much of it.”
