"It's a mistake."
Leaning against the garage pylon, Cole crossed his arms and responded to Brandon's statement. "Duly noted."
And dismissed.
This morning, Cole had dropped in to this double-story bayside home to find his friend lavishing time and attention on his pride and joy - a vintage Harley-Davidson. He would have offered to help but Cole knew from old. Brandon didn't let anyone near his bike. That the showroom-quality cruiser ever made it out onto the street was a miracle. Guess everyone had their passions. Their weaknesses.
Cole's thoughts veered to Taryn Quinn and her exuberant expression the day he'd given the go-ahead for her location survey. He'd be a liar not to admit he was looking forward to spending time alone with her. And who knew? What she had organized might surprise him. If he'd planned to be away from the station longer, he'd have asked Roman Lyons to take the reins. But he'd only be gone from work Friday. Three days in all. And two nights. Brandon's conversation brought him back. He wanted out from Cole's request that he investigate Eloise.
"From what you tell me," Brandon said, polishing a handlebar as if it were a shapely female limb, "the guy responsible for the attempts on your father's life has gone to his maker."
"So it would seem."
"A death certificate's pretty final."
"What if this guy was a patsy?"
"It's possible. Has your father's man mentioned anything about inconsistencies with regard to Eloise's loyalties?"
"Not as yet."
"Like I said." In a white tee and faded jeans, Brandon straightened his linebacker shoulders and snapped the polishing rag at the air. "You want her tailed? Big mistake."
"That's my call." Cole wanted Eloise cleared of all suspicion, if only for his own peace of mind. "Tell me what you know so far."
Since their phone call five days ago, Brandon had dug around Eloise Hunter nee Warren's background. Born in Atlanta. Current age, thirty-five. Father a political figure. Mother a close friend of Cole's mom. Busted for soft drugs in high school. No conviction.
Polishing the other handlebar now, Brandon confirmed that Guthrie had met Eloise when she was much younger. They caught up again when he flew out to visit his late wife's remaining relatives some months after her death. The subsequent contact between the two gave "consoling the bereaved" a whole new nauseating meaning.
Cole pushed off the pylon. "Stick with it. And can you look into my father's new housekeeper while you're at it? Nancy Someone-or-other. She's far too creepy to be actually guilty of anything. Still..."
Brandon chuckled. "Not your type?"
Remembering the mustache, Cole shuddered. "Not by any stretch."
Brandon ran a palm over the gleaming crimson fuel tank. "So what is happening with your love life?"
"What love life?"
"That's what I figured."
"I'm busy."
"Remember that sweet thing you dated in our Navy Cadet days? Don't think you've had a steady relationship since."
"A year-long crush on a lieutenant's daughter isn't a steady relationship."
"Dear, sweet Meredith McReedy. She broke your heart."
"Like an egg in a skillet," Cole confirmed with a grin, "and she didn't even know it."
"Selfish female, moving interstate and leaving you behind to pine."
"I got over it. Eventually."
"Wonder if she'll be at the reunion tonight." Brandon glanced up from tossing the cloth in his special blue bike-cleaning bucket. "You're going, right?"
"I received the invitation."
"Don't avoid my question."
Heading down the drive toward his car, Cole lowered the sunglasses perched on his crown onto his nose. "I'm beyond all that."
"Beyond catching up with friends?"
"Everyone's married now. I can do without the questions. When are you settling down? Why haven't you got kids yet? Last reunion, the woman I took along got it into her head I should fall down on one knee and propose."
Brandon's big hands found his jeans' waistband. "I'm sure you can come up with a few more excuses if you really try."
"You're taking someone?"
Brandon was never without a lady on his arm - a little like Dex, only his brother's affairs were usually plastered across the pages of numerous gossip magazines. Brandon was far more discreet.
"I've asked an interesting lady I met a few weeks ago."
"Weeks, did you say?" Cole's lips twitched as he opened the driver's side door. "Must be serious."
"Don't panic. No starry eyes on either side. We have more of a love/hate thing going on."
"Must be going around."
Leaning a forearm along the window edge, Cole spilled all about the delectable, infuriating Taryn Quinn - how he was attracted to her on a number of levels despite the fact that he'd soon need to terminate her contract.
Cole ended, "Then I'll be the one needing a bodyguard."
Brandon's eyebrows hitched. "Fiery, huh?"
"On occasion."
"Sounds interesting. Bring her along."
"She barely tolerates me."
"Oh, and she has brains."
Cole grinned. "As a matter of fact, she does."
"What's her story? Why isn't she attached?"
"That's a question I've asked myself."
Brandon's hands dropped to his sides. "You sound suspicious."
"No. Not anymore. Just curious."
The friends said goodbye. A moment later, hand on the ignition, Cole stopped to wonder. Should he invite Taryn to that reunion? Business issues aside, he did find her intriguing. Certainly she'd doused him in wine and had tried to put him in his place more than once. He'd responded by giving in to her - defending her - in ways that, frankly, astounded him.
Worried him.
Grunting, he kicked over the engine and shifted the gears into Reverse.
He didn't need more trouble. No way would he invite her to that reunion tonight. If the idea ever crossed his mind again, he'd make an appointment to have his head examined.
* * *