first time I’d seen Cole out of his normal black Bozeman PD polo or T-shirt. He was still wearing faded blue jeans that hung perfectly from his narrow hips, but without the gun and badge attached to his belt, he looked different. Younger. Less serious. More handsome. Not many guys could pull off a coral T-shirt, but Cole did. The color brought out the dark green flecks in his eyes and highlighted the tan on his face and forearms.

I did my best not to stare but stole glances every few steps.

“The carnival is coming up in a couple weeks.” Cole finally spoke up as we reached a part of the trail shaded by towering evergreens. “Want some company as you go on the rides?”

Jamie had always wanted to go on all the rides at the county fair. Every single one, including the kiddie rides. But while they’d been my husband’s thing, carnival rides were definitely not for me.

“Would you mind? I get a little motion sick. I might need some encouragement to make it through them all.”

Cole stopped walking. “Are you going to puke on me?”

“No.” I laughed and kicked a pinecone. “Well, not intentionally.”

He grinned. “I’ll agree to go as long as you promise not to eat anything beforehand.”

I crossed my heart. “Promise.”

We both laughed as we fell back in step.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about Jamie’s old truck. I called a couple of mechanics in town to see how much it would cost to get it restored, and it’s a fortune. I don’t suppose you know a decent mechanic who would cut me a deal?”

Jamie had bought an old truck in high school with the hope of restoring it. Since I knew nothing about fixing cars, I was going to have to hire out the restoration, but with everything I’d sunk into the restaurant, I couldn’t afford to spend a huge amount. Definitely not as much as I’d been quoted over the past couple of weeks.

Cole rubbed his jaw. “I can probably handle the simple stuff. Replacing panels. Tuning up the engine. Things like that. My dad and I actually fixed up a couple of cars together when I was a kid, just as a hobby. I’ll have to see the truck to know exactly what needs to be done, but if I did some of the work, you’d save some money.”

“Cole, I can’t ask you to do all of that. You’re too busy as it is.”

“I’ll make time.” He nudged my elbow with his. “Besides, I like fixing old classics. It will be fun for me too.”

Having someone else restore that truck wasn’t what Jamie would have done—he’d have done it himself—but I didn’t have that luxury. It was either pay someone to do it for me or let Cole.

“I won’t be able to help. I know absolutely nothing about cars.”

“That’s okay. I’ll take care of it.”

And just like that, Cole made one of the more daunting items on Jamie’s list seen manageable. This was big, asking Cole to fix up Jamie’s truck with little to no help from me. And after this, I wouldn’t ask for more. I wouldn’t take advantage of Cole’s generosity. But I would let him take on the truck.

A surge of confidence hit me again. I will finish Jamie’s list. I would do this for my husband.

“Thank you. For helping me. For looking into Jamie’s case. I really appreciate it.”

He stepped closer. “I’ll do anything I can to help you.”

His soft, intimate tone gave me heart flutters, but pain quickly chased them away.

My heart flutters were supposed to be for Jamie.

Guilt. Guilt was a heavy beast. It settled like a dead weight in my chest. I took a step away from Cole, retreating as far away from him as possible on the narrow path, in an attempt to lessen guilt’s load.

Cole sensed it—the line I drew between us—and he stayed on his side of the trail.

We walked for a while, quiet again, watching as others enjoyed the summer day. Dogs were playing in the grass, chasing balls and each other. Kids were climbing all over the jungle gym as moms watched from nearby. A young couple cuddled on a large blanket, the woman reading as the man napped.

“Tell me about Jamie,” Cole said, taking my attention from people watching.

“You want to know about Jamie?”

“Yeah. What was he like? He was a teacher, right?”

I nodded. “Seventh grade English and social studies. I could never do that job, but he loved it. Kids that age were his favorite. Older than kindergarteners, not quite asshole teenagers.”

Cole chuckled. “I do better with the asshole teenagers.”

I smiled. “And I do better with the kindergarteners.”

“What else?”

I thought about it for a minute, sorting through all of the wonderful things I could say about Jamie. “He was a joker. He loved making others laugh—probably why he was so good with preteens. He didn’t care if he made a dork of himself. What you saw with Jamie was what you got.”

Kind of like Cole. He didn’t try to mask his feelings. He didn’t pretend to be anything other than who he was.

“He loved teasing me.” It was one of the ways Jamie showed people that he loved them. I missed the teasing.

Except for Cole, no one had really poked fun at me since Jamie had died. Everyone around me walked on eggshells. Molly would jest at times, but even then, she was always cautious. So was Finn.

But Cole, he just treated me like me. Not a broken Poppy. Or a sad Poppy. Just me.

And I could tease him right back.

“So, what’s the future look like for you, Detective Goodman? Chief of police? Mayor? The White House?”

Cole chuckled. “No, I’m happy just being a cop. Though my dad has bigger plans.”

“Oh? What does he want?”

“He wants me to follow in his footsteps, to be the next chief when he retires.” He blew out a loud breath. “But I hate politics. I hate committees and all the meetings. I like being in

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