Page 8 of Steal My Heart

“That woman is a—” Brian stopped himself from swearing. “How did you know?”

“I passed her in the car. She is never going to forgive and forget.”

Not that Brian could blame her. It was her home that had been robbed, but he hadn’t done it. “It’s clear enough that no one is really going to change unless I can prove who really broke into that house. But I don’t know where I should start. Detective stuff is not my strength, and I’m no Jessica Fletcher.”

“O-kay,” Hilliard said, rolling his eyes a little. “Well, the first thing is to request a copy of the court records. You can do that. They will make you pay a copying fee, but once we have that, we can see the case against you and try to tear it apart. I’ll see if I can get a look at the police files. It isn’t an active case, so I should be able to look at them. There could be some leads in there as well. They may have suppressed some real evidence—who knows? Reviewing old cases can be difficult, but we’ll see what we can do.”

“Thanks,” Brian said softly. He had expended so much energy trying to fight what people thought. Two years out of jail and some days he was so tired of the fighting and working harder than everyone else just to make a living. Hilliard gently rested his hand on his shoulder, and Brian closed his eyes. It hadbeen a long time since anyone had touched him in a caring way… well, anyone other than Gran.

Heat raced through him, and he was so tempted to close the gap between them. Hilliard was a stunningly handsome man, and Brian wanted nothing more than to discover what his full lips tasted like. Hell, he had lain awake at night wondering what Hilliard would feel like under him. But those were just fantasies, and he needed to keep his head in the real world. After a few seconds, Brian shifted his weight and forced his gaze away from Hilliard. It would be so easy to get lost in his eyes. His body ached in a way he hadn’t known in a long time. That didn’t change the fact that Hilliard was a client, and he needed to keep some sort of distance between them.

Still, that simple touch had been almost electric. Gran was gentle with him, but no one else was. In prison, he had been left alone. He was big enough to defend himself, and mostly he’d done his best to remain invisible. As a defense, it had worked, but had made for some very lonely months. Still, whatever he thought he felt changed nothing. He had to keep his head clear and act properly to keep some sort of professional standards.

“I should get to work,” Brian said, his throat dry, and his voice sounded rough, even to himself. Besides, he needed a chance to think more clearly, and he couldn’t do that with Hilliard near him. With a deep breath, he grabbed his tool belt and got to work.

“WHY AREyou smiling all the time?” Gran asked in that slightly nosy way of hers. “You were even whistling in the shower, and you haven’t done that since….” She trailed off like she didn’t want to say the words.

“Was I?” he asked as he strode to the kitchen to make them some dinner. He had the things for a salad, and Gran liked his pesto, so he started the pasta water.

“Yes, you were.” Gran slowly made her way over, using her cane for balance. Brian was tempted to help her, but instead he just continued watching her in case she needed help as he tore the lettuce. Gran sat in the chair at the small kitchen table. “And don’t think you can just leave the room when you don’t want to talk about something. I may be an old lady, but I can still get around. Now what’s going on?”

“You sound like I did something bad,” Brian said.

“Piff. I like that you’re happy, and I’m thinking it has to do with that new client of yours.” Gran might nap more than she used to and have trouble walking, but she didn’t miss anything. “Is he hot?”

“Gran….” Brian set the knife he’d grabbed to cut cucumbers on the cutting board.

She rolled her eyes. “The younger generation didn’t invent hotness, you know. Your grandfather was scorching when I first met him. He worked in one of the mills and had muscles for days. He also had a fancy car, and all the girls had their eye on him, but I was the one he chose. And let me tell you, he turned out to be even hotter between the sheets than he was on the beach.” She practically cackled as Brian groaned and turned away. The last thing he wanted to hear was that Gramps had been a stud. “You know that kept him alive for years.”

“I’m trying to make dinner, and I’m going to cut a finger off.” He could barely see straight, his eyes were watering so badly from a mixture of laughter and sadness. Brian wiped his eyes and set the knife down. “I’ll bite—how did being a stud keep Gramps from dying, considering he had a heart attack four years ago?” He knew he was going to regret this, but sometimes he had to just let Gran get her story out.

“Ten years ago, the doctors said that he needed to get more exercise, so we started taking walks through town, going to classes in Fort Bragg at the community center… and at night…let’s just say that passion is a great way to burn the calories. I swear that kept him around for the next six years.”

He picked up the knife and shook his head. “Sex kept Gramps alive all that time.”

“Yup. I’m just that good.” She held out her hand and did a mic drop. Brian had no idea what he was going to do with her, but he finished the salad without cutting himself—or looking at Gran, for fear she’d start another story. One scandalization was enough for the evening. “And I want you to have that.” Great, they were back to him.

“I’m fine, and please don’t get involved. Hilliard is a nice man, and he’s going to help me prove I’m innocent. He’s also a client, and I can’t go around getting involved with the people I work for.” He finished with the salad and divided it between two bowls before adding the pasta to the boiling water.

“Yeah, but he also makes you whistle and smile.” She was such a pill.

“How do you know that I’m not happy just being here with you?” he countered.

Gran smiled and got out of her chair to pat his cheek from across the prep table. “Because I know you, and I like seeing you happy. Besides, that kind of happiness comes from meeting someone you like. You aren’t going to work for Hilliard forever, and as long as the two of you aren’t getting busy during work hours, there really isn’t an issue.” She sat back down, leaning slightly on her cane.

“Gran, don’t be pushy,” he said gently. “I’m happy, okay? I’ll admit that. And I like Hilliard. He’s attractive and smart—way smarter than me.” He got out the pesto from the refrigerator and then checked on the pasta.

“Maybe you should invite him here for dinner. I’ll make some of my special light-as-air fried chicken. Your grandfather used to say it was the best of the best and why he fell in love withme.” A faraway smile settled over her face. “He always said that I was beautiful, and when he found out I could cook… he knew he was a goner.” She sighed softly. “I really miss him.”

Brian stopped what he was doing and hurried to her. “Are you okay?”

“Of course. Sometimes it sucks being alone, and I don’t want that for you.” That plaintive expression was too much for him, and he felt his resolve melting like an ice cube in July.

“Okay, Gran. I’ll invite him to dinner. He said there would be things I needed to sign so he could get copies of the records and stuff. I’ll invite him over so we can get that done and you can meet him, but after that, you need to promise me that you won’t meddle.”

“Me?” She straightened up, her eyes big. “I never meddle, and shame on you for saying so. I push a little andplutzsometimes.” Whatever that meant. “But I never meddle. Now Violet, she meddles in everything, and I will not have you comparing me to that woman.”

He returned to making dinner. “I think you got yourself a little off track.” Sometimes he wondered if she was slipping a little, though this was not one of them.

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