“Let me guess. Beau showed at the memorial service and got down on bended knee, offering Dusty an engagement ring in front of her brother’s casket.”

Mike didn’t try to stop his chuckle.

He liked Rivera already.

“Not quite,” he answered.

“Am I warm?” Rivera returned.

“Yeah,” Mike replied. “She’s getting a lot of phone calls.”

He listened to Rivera sigh but heard his voice was alert when he asked, “How many?”

“One yesterday offering to come up and help her with her grief. Three this morning before six thirty. She was out gettin’ donuts and he threw attitude when I picked up and bald-faced lied she was his woman. She lost her mind when she heard, called him and threw a shit hemorrhage but shared with me she’s beginning to get concerned.”

This was met with silence.

“Rivera?” he called.

“Out gettin’ donuts?” Rivera asked.

Fuck.

Before he could reply, Rivera whispered, “Jesus, fuck, shit. Mike. You say your name is Mike? From Brownsburg?”

Mike felt his gut get tight and the feeling didn’t suck. Not even a little bit.

She’d talked about him to her friends.

He hadn’t seen her in over twenty years and she’d talked about him to friends.

“Yeah,” Mike replied. “Mike Haines.”

He heard a whistle.

Then he heard, “Right, dude, I don’t got a vagina so I don’t belong to the club and, lucky for me, that means I can’t get kicked out for tellin’ you this shit but Dusty, she talks about you. I try not to get involved when the tequila appears and Jerra breaks out the margarita glasses because at those times, anything goes and it can get hairy. But that don’t mean I can turn off my ears and the shit I heard is good. I tell my woman you two hooked up, you’re gonna hear her screamin’ all the way from Texas.”

His gut tightened further and he was right. It didn’t suck. Not even a little bit.

“She’s gettin’ donuts, that mean she hooked up with you?” Rivera pressed.

“How ‘bout I let Dusty talk to your woman about that,” Mike poorly evaded.

He knew it was poorly when Rivera muttered, “You two hooked up. Shit, fuck. Awesome.” Then he stopped muttering when he asked, “Please tell me you’re an ex-assassin, current professional wrestler and you’re makin’ plans to come down here and kick Beau LeBrec’s ass.”

Mike grinned, tagged the Frisbee from Layla’s mouth again and let fly, replying, “Unfortunately, no. I’m just a cop. But that needs to be done, I’m on-call to do it.”

Rivera was back to muttering when he said, “Right, well, seein’ as this ain’t your jurisdiction I probably should take the first crack at that asshole.”

“I take it from your understanding of the situation you’ve had concerns,” Mike guessed what he knew was accurately.

Rivera confirmed his guess. “Dusty says she can handle it and he’ll move on. I went to high school with Beau. The dude looks good, knows it, thinks he’s got the ladies eatin’ outta his hands. Can’t say, ‘til Dusty, he was wrong. Had his pick, loved ‘em and left ‘em. He fell hard for Dusty but learned through years of gettin’ what he wanted just by flashin’ a smile, he could serve up shit and they’d eat it. Dusty Holliday doesn’t eat shit. She showed patience in tryin’ to teach that old dog a new trick. He refused to learn so she got shot of his ass. He’s the heartbreaker, doesn’t know any different. Again, a new trick Dusty’s tryin’ to teach him. He just ain’t willin’ to learn.”

This didn’t sound good and the tightening in his gut started not to feel so hot. Vi had had a fuckwad stalker after her. Vi’s, unfortunately, was a criminal mastermind who also happened to be a psychopath with resources. Lightning didn’t strike twice so it was doubtful LeBrec was that caliber of nutjob. Still, Mike didn’t need this shit. Dusty, living alone over a thousand miles away with a newly dead brother, a business to run and a gallery show coming up needed it less.

“’Spect you got some idea of how to offer that lesson so it sinks in,” Mike replied.

“Got a couple I’m willin’ to investigate.”

“Well you just got the greenlight and that’s not comin’ from me. Dusty may or may not be home tonight. Either way, it’s clear from both you and her you’re tight so I’d appreciate it if you saw to LeBrec without delay. And Dusty’s holdin’ on but losin’ Darrin is gonna take some gettin’ used to so your woman is up too.”

“Gotcha,” Rivera murmured then said less quietly, “Payback is you FedEx some ‘a those donuts she’s always on about.”

Dusty talked about him. Twenty years, she didn’t forget their bond and talked to her girl about him along with Hilligoss.

Good company.

“Can’t, man, you gotta get ‘em fresh from the rack. You come up here, they’re on me,” Mike offered.

“Deal” Rivera replied. “You cool with me storin’ your number?”

This meant checking in.

“Absolutely.”

“Right.” Rivera said and Mike could hear his smile so he knew Rivera got where he was at. “So, she had a crush on you when she was a kid and you were nailin’ her sister. How’d you feel about little Dusty?”

“In the last thirty seconds, you form a vagina?” Mike returned and heard Rivera’s loud burst of hearty laughter.

He just didn’t want to talk. No offense meant, none taken.

Yeah, he liked this guy.

Rivera quit laughing and started talking. “Solid, you had one day with our girl and Dusty’s out gettin’ you donuts. I drag my woman up there, you gotta tell me how I can get her ass outta bed to get me donuts. It’s always me draggin’ my carcass to the bakery Sunday mornin’.”

“She snuck out while I was sleeping or no way she’d be out in the cold at six o’clock in the morning.”

“I hear you, brother,” Rivera said quietly.

Yep. Definitely liked this guy.

“You’ll keep me in the loop?” Mike asked.

“You got it. I’ll have my word with Beau and I’ll have a word with a coupla my boys. We’ll keep an eye on our girl.”

“Appreciated,” Mike muttered.

“No problems…and, Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“Be cool, we meet you soon.”

He knew what that meant.

So he remarked, “Figure I better put in earplugs in preparation for the scream.”

“Yeah, I might not have a vagina but this shit’s too good not to share. Also it’ll put Jerra in a certain mood. Sorry, bro, but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do to get him some on a Sunday.”

Mike smiled down at Layla who’d dropped the Frisbee at his feet and had her ass in the snow, long tail sweeping the blanket of white behind her, head tipped back, tongue lolling, not so patiently waiting.

“Knock yourself out,” Mike muttered.

“Cool. Later Mike.”

“Later.”

Mike hit the button on the phone, bent, retrieved the Frisbee and let fly before he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

And he did this still smiling.

* * *

“Waking up next to you. The smell of Hilligoss. Being number five in line. Going back to you. Morning nookie with you. Shower with you. Jerra calling me and cracking my shit up because Hunter spilled about you and me and she was so excited she said two thousand, seven hundred and fifty-two words in the expanse of sixty seconds and that’s it.”

Standing outside security at Indianapolis International Airport, holding Dusty in his arms and not wanting to let her go, Mike was not following.

“Pardon?”

“Counting my blessings, babe.”

He grinned down at her.

“I could count the reasons I want to commit murder, and, for your information, officer, this urge only threatens to overwhelm me when my sister is involved, but her getting up in my shit about you is the one and only reason.”

Mike stopped grinning.

Mike got the call that Dusty was heading out. Mr. and Mrs. Holliday were concerned about Rhonda and the boys so, although they’d planned to stay for another week, they’d taken Dusty aside to have a private word after brunch. They’d then told her they were going to stretch that week into two. Maybe three. They knew Dusty had her thing happening and they had her back. They also wanted to be there for Rhonda, Finley and Kirby.

So she was going.

But when she went back to the hotel to pack and call him, Debbie had been waiting for her. Debbie had shared she’d seen them together in the parking lot, she’d lost her mind and laid into Dusty. Dusty laid in right back. They had a screaming match that brought the hotel manager to the room. Debbie stormed out. Dusty called Mike, shared this information then waited until he arrived and checked out.

The good news about this was that Debbie had not done this in front of the family and inferred during the fight that she didn’t intend to share, “You fucked my ex-boyfriend while Darrin is still fresh in his grave,” because it would, “Just break Mom’s heart.”

With Dusty going, Debbie knowing about them and being on a tear about it, that was the only good news there was.

When he’d told her about his call, Dusty, being what he was learning was Dusty, didn’t give a shit that Rivera put one and one together and got the budding couple that was Mike and Dusty.

She’d just grinned and said, “So she knows about five hours before she would have known. No skin off my nose.”

Mike had to admit, after Audrey’s unrelenting bullshit and Vi’s unrelenting but unintentional drama, the laidback Dusty was a breath of seriously fucking fresh air.

“Debbie’ll get home, get involved in her life and cool down,” Mike told her. “It’ll all be good.”

“Debbie’ll carry this shit to her grave,” Dusty muttered then winced because she herself had struck close to the bone.

“Honey,” he whispered.

She sighed.

Then she said, “I’ll leave it a week. Give her a call. Try to smooth things over.”

“Maybe you two should just figure out how to be family at the same time avoiding each other,” Mike suggested.

“Uh…do you know my Mom and Dad?” Dusty asked, Mike grinned and gave her a squeeze.

“Yeah, I do. But they don’t have to live her bullshit. You do. She’s a successful attorney. She’s gotta know how to broker a deal. Find a way to make it so you two are kosher in front of the parents but you keep strictly to your corners all other times. She’ll see the advantages of a deal like that and go all in.”

“I’m not sure family works like that,” she muttered. “But I’ll give it a try.”

Truthfully, Mike wasn’t sure either. He was an only child. His Mom and Dad were functional. Good, solid parents he loved and respected who gave him a working moral compass and a decent upbringing. Great grandparents who doted on their grandchildren in a way that only skated the edges of spoiling them rotten. They had his back through the divorce with Audrey and they had his back when he fought for full custody but they didn’t have it in a way they were in his face. He just knew they had it which was all they needed to do. His family didn’t have dramas. Just lots of love and good times.

And, with the shit Dusty told him that came out of Debbie’s mouth, it was clear Debbie had cast herself firmly in the role of the black sheep of the Holliday family. This included a variety of imaginary slights and insults most of which she figured were delivered by Dusty all because Dusty was being Dusty.

It didn’t take a family psychologist to study the Hollidays and see that Debbie’s career drive was her being hell-bent to earn the respect of her family. Or she was simply different than them but instead of just finding herself and going on to find happiness, she wanted it all and was pissed they wouldn’t shoehorn her into their world where she simply didn’t fit.

Mike was thinking the latter. The last twenty-four hours he’d spent more time with Dusty than Debbie since he broke up with her two and a half decades ago. But she’d been his girlfriend for two years. What Debbie Holliday wanted, she found a way to get and she was perfectly willing to expend a goodly amount of energy and her considerable brainpower conniving a way to get it.

Frankly, in the end, he couldn’t wait to get quit of her but he’d never told that shit to anyone. Before he hooked up with Debbie, Darrin was a friend and remained a friend after their breakup. He respected the Hollidays too much to talk trash about their daughter. And then there was Dusty.

“Right,” Dusty broke into his thoughts, “I gotta go take off my shoes and prepare to be strip searched because I’m a blonde and they’ll need to use someone to prove they aren’t racial profiling and it’s my luck they always use me.”