“Sorry,” she said hastily. “I didn’t mean anything personal.”
He gave her a crooked smile that again reminded her of her thought when he’d first laughed: he looked like a man who didn’t do it very often.
“I’m not one of them,” he said. “And sometimes I get as angry at them as you are.”
She felt even worse. “I didn’t mean to imply you were. It’s just that the whole thing is so unfair.”
“It certainly doesn’t seem right,” he said. He glanced at his watch, a complicated-looking thing like the one Jason used to wear.
“I’m sorry—we’ve truly spoiled your run,” she said quickly.
“I’m sure you have other, more important things to do than talk about my little problem,” Connie added.
“It’s not little to you,” he said, and Sloan thought she could have hugged him for that. When she caught herself wondering what that would feel like, she nearly jerked back in shock.
“I was just checking the time to see how long before they’d be in at the county offices,” he said. “I know somebody over there. Maybe I could make a call, find out more about what’s going on.”
Sloan stared at him. Connie took an audible breath and again put her hand to her throat.
“No promises,” Brett said hurriedly. “I may only find out that what they told you is right.”
“Of course,” Connie said, “but that would be so helpful. They didn’t want to explain much to me. I’m sure they just thought I was a nuisance of an old woman.”
“Then they need to be slapped silly,” Sloan said, her anger rising again.
Brett looked at her with an expression she couldn’t read. Perhaps, being a cop, he was assessing her capability for such violence. Oh, I’m capable, she told him silently.
But he said only, “Or reminded that they’ll also be there one day. If they’re lucky.”
She liked that. Liked that he’d said it. Liked that he’d looked at Connie so kindly when he’d said it.
Didn’t like the pain that shadowed his eyes when he’d added, “If they’re lucky.”
“I’ll call the first chance I get,” he said. “But again, no promises.”
“Thank you,” Connie said fervently. Then she looked at Sloan. “Give him your number, will you, Sloan? I don’t hear the phone half the time.”
Sloan frowned. As far as she knew, Connie’s hearing was fine. She glanced at Brett, realized he seemed taken aback himself. But after a moment he pulled a smartphone out of the pocket of his sweatpants, and she gave him the number.
And nearly laughed aloud when the dog, who had been sitting quietly through all this, got to his feet. As if he had somehow figured out they were done now.
“Told you,” Brett said.
She looked up to see him shaking his head in amusement at his furry companion.
Somehow this made her like him even more. And that made her a little twitchy.
“Well, now,” Connie said, watching as man and dog resumed their run, “wasn’t he nice?”
“Yes,” Sloan agreed, still a little bemused by it all but more fascinated by Brett Dunbar’s long, easy stride.
“And nice looking,” the older woman added archly. “Just the type I would have gone for at your age.”
She couldn’t deny that, since she’d thought it herself. But she knew where Connie was headed and didn’t want to go there. Again.
“Please. You’ve been in love with Uncle Chuck since you were teenagers.”
“Indeed I have. That’s why I want the same for you.”
“And so you want to set me up with the first good-looking guy who comes along?”
“He’s hardly the first, but he is the first I’ve seen you react to.”
Oh, Lord, had she been that obvious?
In the instant before she dodged away from her aunt’s scrutiny, she saw something twinkle in the older woman’s eyes. Her gaze snapped back to Connie’s face.
“You hear perfectly well,” she accused. “And you’ve never missed a call if you’re home or your cell’s got a signal.”
“There’s always a first time,” Connie said sunnily. “I wonder if he’s married.”
Of course he is, Sloan thought. Look at him. But she focused on her aunt’s deviousness. “I can’t believe you...used that.”
“It got him your phone number, didn’t it?” Connie gave her a wry look. “Besides, honey, when you get to be this age, sometimes the only weapon you have is making people think you’re less than you are.”
For a long moment Sloan just stared at her. Then she laughed and hugged the woman who had been her anchor for so long. “Have I ever told you I want to be just like you?”
“I believe you have once or twice,” Connie said. “And it makes me very proud.”
“As well you should be.”
“Good. Then you’ll eat breakfast this morning without telling me it’s too much.”
Sloan laughed again. “You are shameless.” But she walked back toward the house without protest.
And denied even to herself that she was glad the subject had veered away from their neighborhood jogger.
Brett drummed his fingers on his desk as he considered his options. The physical action and the slight noise seemed to help him focus. Or at least reminded him to keep his mind on the matter at hand and not on the woman who had been such a pleasant interruption in his routine this morning.
Besides, for all he knew, she was married and had kids. She hadn’t been wearing a ring—so sue him, he’d noticed—but that didn’t always mean anything. Or it could mean she was divorced with those kids. Not that he had anything against kids; he just knew a little too much about the ways they could go wrong. They’d planned on kids, someday, he and Angie—
Damn. He hadn’t strayed down that painful path in a long time. So much for focus, he thought, and stopped the steady drumming.
Just decide on the next step, he told himself.
Rick Alvarado, his friend over at the county zoning-and-permitting office, had seemed as puzzled as he was.
“What’s
