Best Worst Mistake

“You’re really happy?” A small sob broke her lips as she rested a hand over his, cradling the small life within.

“Happy doesn’t cut it.” His voice was clear, confident. “We’ll have to stop at your bookstore and pick up a thesaurus so I can find a whole new vocabulary.”

She pulled his collar. “Kiss me.”

And he didn’t stop until the nurse knocked at the door.

THEY LEFT THE hospital in a daze. The sun still shined overhead, the snowdrifts sparkled so brilliantly that it was hard to see. He tightened his grasp on her hand. “We should go check in with Sawyer.”

As surreal as the last few hours had been, the real world was still out there, and it would only be pushed away for so long.

“Yes,” Qui

“I’m tempted to say nothing, but this is Brightwater. I feel like people will somehow figure it out no matter what. There’s some collective town mind-reading power.”

“Okay, it’s better we get out in front of this. My dad would have loved to be a grandfather. Mom? She’s going to shit a brick when I call. I’m pretty sure she told her latest husband that she’s fifteen years younger than she actually is. She’d rather have me be her sister, take bikini selfies by the pool, than be a doting diaper-changing grandma.”

“Let’s give her a chance. What if she does the right thing?”

Qui

The word made him grin ear to ear. “I’ve expected the worst for so long and it never got me anything good. Why not expect the best for once?”

When they got to the sheriff’s office, Sawyer’s desk was empty. Kit turned down the radio. “Well, well, well. Look who the cat dragged in.”

“Cousin,” Wilder said with a curt nod.

“Your ears must be burning. Nobody has stopped talking about the pair of you all day.”

“What’s the current situation?” Wilder asked.

“Sawyer went looking for you. Your phones have both been turned off. Garret King has been officially cleared as a suspect; he had a watertight alibi last night. A lady friend. Or rather two. Guess somebody had to pick up Archer’s mantle now that he’s settled down.” Kit whistled low. “The Kane boys are dropping like flies, but not yours truly. I’ll be buzzing free for a long time yet.”

“Are you comparing me to a fly swatter?” Qui

Kit chuckled. “Hey, don’t take anything I say personal. I talk straight out my ass.”

“Good to know some things never change,” Wilder said.

“I’ll call the boss, let him know you are around. He’ll want a chat. Warning, he’s not all that happy about your disappearing act.”

“We’ve had a heck of a day,” Wilder said. “He can deal.”

Kit made a quick call and gestured to a few chairs. “Can I offer you folks some refreshments?”

“I’m a little hungry actually,” Qui

The baby.

It was more like a floating sea monkey at this stage but he didn’t care. What if it was a boy? Wilder’d take him fishing, camping. Teach him chess. If it was a girl he could do the same, but if she looked like her mother, she’d wrap him around her pudgy little finger in no time.

“I keep Girl Scout cookies stashed in my desk,” Kit said with a conspiratorial wink. “You want to come see my selection?”

“Do you have Thin Mints by any chance?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Then you’re my favorite of Wilder’s relatives.” He handed her a cookie sleeve and she took a few. “Want one?” She waved one at Wilder.

“I’m good.” He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t do anything except focus.

If not Garret, who?

Fucking who?

Could it really be Le

Qui

Wilder noticed the change in the room. Tension grew and Kit’s face lost his easy smile.

“Yeah, yeah. We got in touch with her around lunchtime.”

“I hear she can have quite the temper.” Qui

“You? Course not. She was horrified on your behalf. But I almost feel sorry for whoever is responsible. Goldie is cutting her trip short to fly home. If they find the guy, he’ll be begging to be put behind bars rather than deal with that she-lion.”

Qui

Kit shoved another cookie in his month in response.

To say his cousin and Goldie Flint had a tempestuous history was an understatement. When they had it out at town football games, the fans in the bleachers stopped watching the field and munched popcorn while watching them invent curses that made the crowd gasp in awe or cheer whenever they struck a particularly good low blow.

They were aware of the attention, played to the crowd sympathies like they were starring in a Shakespearean play. But then Kit enlisted and was gone, and Goldie went quiet. A scary quiet because every once in a while it erupted into a tongue-lashing.

Those two had history, but Wilder always guessed it was their business.

The patrol car pulled up and Sawyer climbed out. His gaze went right to the window. Wilder knew from the way the sun hit the glass that his brother couldn’t see him, but he still knew he was there.

And what if he had a change of heart after last night’s conversation?

The door swung open and Sawyer stomped the snow off his boots. “Glad to see you out in the world,” he said. “Was begi

“How are you, brother?” Wilder put a hell of a lot of meaning into the question.

Sawyer nodded thoughtfully. “Good, man. Worried about your dumb ass, mostly. And you,” he said to Qui

“Quit,” Wilder said. “So there’s a vacancy?”

“Posted this morning,” Sawyer said, frowning slightly. “Too late to be of much use here I’m afraid. But ATF did send a profile over.”

“Can I take a look?” Wilder said.

Sawyer handed over the two-sheet form and Wilder read through it quickly.

“Anything spring to mind?” Sawyer said. “You got a look on your face.”

“Maybe. Yeah,” Wilder said as his heart sank to his gut. “Tonight’s the Christmas tree lighting, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, why?” Realization dawned on Sawyer’s face. “Aw, hell, you don’t think there’ll be trouble?”

“I got a feeling.”

Sawyer gave a grim smile. “You sound like Grandma.”

“About time I realize we’re a lot alike,” Wilder said with a curt nod. “I have a plan. It’s a long shot, but here’s what we can do.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

QUINN HELD HER hands over the truck’s heater.

“You sure you won’t go wait in the bookstore?” Wilder asked for the third time in as many minutes. “I promise to come back and get you before the lighting.”

“Positive. I’ve never been on a stakeout before.” She sca

Wilder gave her a side eye. “Thought you liked fishing.”

“I do.” She bristled. “But I like to know what I’m setting the line for.”

“Like I said last night, it looks like all the fires have been started using a milk jug. It’s a long shot but I’m watching to see if the suspect is going to stop by. Then we’ll follow him.”

Qui