“That’s okay,” Brian said. “We’ll let ourselves out. We’ll also be in touch with regular updates.”
“Thanks for that. I guess.”
JACK’S MUSCLES ACHED FROM A LONG day of work when he let himself into the cottage he and Ivy shared shortly after six o’clock. He’d texted to tell her he would bring home dinner, but he was a good twenty minutes later than he’d promised.
“Ivy?” He cocked his head to listen for familiar sounds but came up empty. He dropped the food on the counter and headed down the hallway. He knew she was home because her car was in the driveway. So where did she go?
Their bedroom was empty except for Nicodemus, the ridiculously spoiled cat Ivy had rescued from a dumpster years before. The cat loved Ivy to distraction, but Jack was convinced he was trying to smother him in his sleep, a notion Ivy laughed at while dismissing any suggestion that her fur baby was anything other than perfect.
“Ivy?” He pushed open the bathroom door, which wasn’t latched, and found his beloved scrubbing herself in the bathtub. She didn’t even look up. “Are you okay?”
“I smell like garbage.” She poured more body wash into her hand and rubbed it under her arms. “Like ... real garbage. You would think I was rolling around in a landfill all day or something.”
“I’m sure you’re exaggerating.” Jack leaned in to give her a kiss and made a face. “Or maybe not.” He pulled back before his lips could land. “Seriously, what is that smell?”
“It’s me!” Ivy’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “I smell, Jack. Apparently that’s part of the package when you’re a criminal or something. Betsy told me I would smell halfway through our shift and I thought she was exaggerating. She was right, though.”
Rather than give her privacy, or leave her to dark thoughts, Jack lowered himself to the floor. He rested his back against the sink cabinets and watched her scrub the body wash into her skin. “Who is Betsy?”
“She’s the older woman who was there. She grew too many pot plants and got in trouble.”
Jack’s eyebrows hopped. “How many pot plants is too many?”
“Four. Well, four extra, so however many that is.”
“Oh, well, that’s not as bad as I was imagining. Although ... I thought I told you not to ask what everybody was there for. You could get in trouble if you tick off the wrong person.”
Ivy stopped what she was doing long enough to meet his gaze. Her eyes were blue, like a beautiful ocean, and there were times Jack wanted to lose himself in them. “I think that’s an old wives’ tale or something. Everybody there was pretty open about what they did.”
“Oh, yeah? What did they do?”
“You’re not asking because you’re going to worry, are you?”
“I’m asking because we’re making conversation after a long, hard day. People who are married share the mundane details of their lives with one another. I plan to tell you about my day, too.”
“Sasha?”
“Finish telling me about your day first,” he instructed. “I want to hear all of it.”
Because she knew he was telling the truth, Ivy laid it all out for him. Once she was finished washing the stench from her hair, she hit the drain. Jack was already standing and had a towel open for her when she stepped out of the tub.
“I think they’re basically a good group of people who made a few mistakes,” Ivy said as Jack grabbed a second towel to rub over her hair. “I kind of like them. Well, most of them.”
“I’m glad.” He leaned in and gave her a soft kiss. “I still wish you didn’t have to go through this.”
“We both wish that, but whining about it is going to do neither of us any good. I just need to get through it now. Honestly, things could be a lot worse.”
“That Greg guy is a douche,” Jack argued, his eyes flashing with distaste. “I don’t like the way he treated you.”
“Honestly, he only did that in front of you.” Ivy moved into the bedroom and surveyed her closet. “I’m thinking I might just eat in my robe. Are you okay with that?”
“Am I okay with you being comfortable for dinner? Um, yeah, I think I can manage.”
“Good. My feet hurt.” Ivy sent him a rueful smile as she shrugged into her plush robe. “I’m thinking I might make you rub them before bed.”
“Absolutely.” He slung his arm around her shoulders as they walked toward the kitchen. “Honey, I really am sorry about this.” He knew he shouldn’t feel guilty, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was supposed to protect her and there wasn’t a single thing he could do to get her out of this.
“Jack, it’s not your fault,” she said on a sigh. “I should’ve called you and told you what I saw instead of breaking into Lucy Thompson’s house. Once that happened, things were out of your hands if you wanted to keep your case clean. Honestly, it’s not that bad.”
Jack didn’t believe her. She was trying to protect him, something he both loved and hated. “You’re hanging out with a pot maven.”
Ivy snorted as she got settled at the table and Jack retrieved their food. He doled it out — he’d made sure to get extra servings of cake and pie for dessert so she could indulge — and then got comfortable next to her. “She’s hardly a pot maven, although I think she likes to smoke quite a bit. It’s not as if she was selling it ... at least I don’t think. It was all for personal use.”
“I’m not sure that makes me feel better.”
“It’s fine.” Ivy waved off his concern and happily inhaled the scent of her favorite stir fry. “Oh, you had them add the tomatoes,” she enthused, grinning.
“My girl only gets the best,” he said, digging into his own
