It was nearly midnight before the kids were in bed, Keely in a lovely bedroom of pale rose and cream connected to Sam’s room through a bathroom. Keely just couldn’t get over that. Katie heard her tell Sam not to step a single foot into her side of the bathroom or she’d bust him. It didn’t matter that her side had the toilet. Sam made sure to stick his toe over to her side before he went to bed.
Cracker had a suite in the large former attic with its curious sloping corners and polished wooden floors. As Katie brushed her teeth, she hoped that Cracker would soon get over the intense suspicion Katie had felt coming off her in waves when she’d opened the door to Katie’s knock. “You’re here for what?” she’d said when she’d answered the door.
“Keely and I are here to see Miles. I’m Katie Benedict. Sheriff Katie Benedict.” She’d stuck out her hand and had it hesitantly shaken, then dropped.
“You’re the one who saved Sam? Oh dear, Miles isn’t here. He said something weird about being a buccaneer, gave me a big hug, told me to wish him luck, and off he went with Sam, I don’t know where. I guess you must come in.” And she’d stepped back and been perfectly pleasant until Keely said, “Mama’s here to marry Miles so Sam can be my brother and Miles can be my papa.”
The woman looked like she’d been slapped in the face. Speaking through a rictus of a smile, she said, “Little girls say the cutest things, don’t they?”
It seemed an eternity ago, yet it had only been the previous evening. Katie brushed out her hair. She started to braid it, then dropped her hands back to her sides. This was her wedding night. How very peculiar that was. Miles was right about the one-stop shopping. They’d plunked down thirty dollars and were in business. During the brief ceremony Sam stood straight and important beside his father, Keely beside her, and everyone else just a couple of steps back. It was a pity that her mother had been fogged in, no flights out at all for the entire day. Minna promised to come in the next couple of weeks. She wanted to give them some time to themselves.
Conrad Evans, Miles’s right hand at the plant, had looked as shell-shocked as Cracker. He’d been quite nice, no choice, really. The man looked like a linebacker for the Titans, and had hair as red as Sherlock’s.
Katie looked down at the plain gold band. Married. She was married again. She’d killed two kidnappers, an idiot former postal employee had burned her house down, and here she was, in Virginia, married. For the second time. She felt very strange, as if her life had taken a one-eighty, which indeed it had.
Her name was now Katie Benedict Kettering. It was weird.
When she came back to the big bedroom after tucking Keely in yet again for the night, making certain the bathroom door was open on both sides, she faced Miles across the length of his bedroom. It was a big airy room with large windows, antique furniture, and a bed the size of the Queen Mary. Katie crossed her arms over her chest, her position defensive, her fight-flight response in high gear.
She couldn’t imagine taking off her clothes in front of this man who was nearly a stranger, and also her husband. She already had in a way, not really thinking about it.
“How tall are you?” she asked.
Miles wasn’t a fool. He didn’t move even a single step toward her. “Six-two, something around there. I’m not planning on jumping you, by the way,” he said and grinned like a schoolboy who’d just shot a three-pointer from twenty feet.
Katie shook her head, both at him and at herself. “This is all just so weird.”
“But just look at what you’ve accomplished in the space of a very short time.” He tapped off his fingers. “You’ve known me for this entire week, enough to know I’ll make a terrific mate, and you’ve made our kids so happy they just might not act bratty for another week. Your new last name isn’t that bad at all. The best thing is that I really like you, Katie. Really. You looked great in your wedding dress.”
“Don’t forget the three-inch heels that brought me eyeball to eyeball with you.”
“Never.” He hadn’t seen her in a dress until their wedding seven hours ago.
“I’m thirty-one years old.”
“Yeah, I heard you tell the county clerk. I’m thirty-five, which means I’ve got more experience than you, a really finely honed judgment, and you should trust me completely.” He held out his hands to her, palms up, fingers spread. “These are perfectly good hands you’re in, Katie.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’ve had more years to learn how to joke around and be an all-around smart guy.” She paused a moment. “I haven’t really trusted anyone—a man, that is—since Carlo.”