Page 130 of One Last Stand

“I want to do more than serve pie. I want to help women defend themselves. I was an Iron Maiden, for Pete’s sake?—”

“Yeah, you were.” His voice held a tiny growl.

She grinned. “I told them that when I applied for a job at the gym near Hazel’s school. It’s just part time, helping women in self-defense classes and boxing and other strength-training workouts, but they hired me on the spot.”

“Smart move.”

She drew in a breath. “They still haven’t come back with the ruling on my house, so no insurance money yet . . . which means . . .”

“You’re sticking around.”

“Want a roommate?”

Oh, he wanted more than that, but he nodded, caught her face. Kissed her again. “Let me clean up, and then we’ll have dinner and . . .” He raised an eyebrow.

“And?”

“Wait for it.”

“Okay. I need to go get Hazel anyway.” She pulled off her apron, hung it up, and grabbed her car keys.

He climbed the stairs, dropped his bag on the bed, and then scrubbed his hands over his face.

“Poor Shep.I know how much Shep is crazy about her.”What had gone down between Shep and London, Moose didn’t know, but Shep had seemed shuttered and quiet and dark the entire trip home. Something must have happened after his declaration that he wasn’t leaving Montelena without her.

Moose got into the shower, and he emerged a little restored, shaved, put on a clean flannel shirt and a pair of jeans, and then opened his dresser drawer. The ring sat on top of his white undershirts. He pocketed the ring box, then came downstairs to the smell of something roasting.

The house was empty. He checked his watch. He’d been up there a while, maybe forty minutes. Long enough for her to get to Eagle River and back.

Axel hadn’t followed him home from the airport, heading right over to Flynn’s apartment, of course.

He walked over to the pie that sat on the counter. Of course she’d done an amazing job. It had a lattice top and fluted edges, and the thought of her here making him a pie undid him a little.

The crockpot simmered and he peered through the glass top lid to find a pot roast.Well, look at that.

The door opened, and he put the lid back on. “Hey, Tillie, nice job on—oh.”

Axel had walked into the room carrying a plastic bag full of groceries, and behind him, Flynn. Something about the looks on their faces had him pausing.

And . . .wait—“Is . . . what’s . . . nothing has happened to Tillie, right?”

Flynn still wore her badge on her belt, and he glanced at it and everything tightened inside him. “This isn’t an . . . it’s not anofficialvisit, right?”Please.He put his hand on the counter.

Flynn’s eyes widened. “What?” She looked at Axel, back to Moose. “Are you okay?”

“Tell meTillieis okay.”

Flynn blinked, her mouth opening. “I don’t . . . I think . . . What? Was she not okay? Are we worried?—”

Oh. He closed his eyes, running his hand across his face. “Okay. Sorry. I’m just a little paranoid these days.”

“Hard not to be,” Axel said as he set a grocery bag on the counter. “Listen, did you know that Shep had his condo on the market?”

So maybe that was what the look was about.

“Our realtor got ahold of it, and Flynn went to see it while we were out of town. It’s nice. And she wanted to put an offer in, but just today, the realtor said he’d pulled it.”

“Huh. I didn’t know he was going to sell it. He totally redid it the year he got here. But . . . interesting. I knew he was restless after London ‘died.’” He finger-quoted that last word. “Maybe he’s decided to stick around.”

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