“I didn’t need to.”
“If this is about what happened last spring with Sophy and her—” he started.
“It has nothing to do with that psycho bitch.”
“Then why not?”
“Two words—Crazy Kate.” Claire paced in front of him. “Look what happened yesterday morning.”
“At the grocery store?”
Claire nodded. “With nothing more than a mere shopping cart in her arsenal, Kate managed to cause a ruckus that landed me in jail. If I’m packing heat, she’ll go for my gun and shoot someone, which will probably end up being me by accident, and I don’t want to die because that mad pregnant monkey has bananas for brains right now.”
He crossed his arms. “All right, you have a point about your sister, but you need some sort of self-defense weapons at your disposal.”
“I carry a hammer in my tool belt.”
“Claire.”
“I’m pretty wicked with a screwdriver.”
“Be serious.”
She scowled. “Fine, besides a gun, what do you propose?”
“A Kevlar vest.”
“Aren’t those really bulky?”
“Does it matter?”
It might if she had to escape a killer through tight quarters. “Where are you going to find one in my size around here?”
“Maybe Grady has one somewhere.” His gaze dipped to her chest. “I’d like to see you in one of those bulletproof SWAT cat suits.”
She stopped in front of him. “Mac, those outfits are pure Hollywood bullshit.”
He chuckled. “Pure Hollywood genius is more like it.”
“Do you really want to see me squeeze these hips into one of those skintight costumes?”
He stared at the objects in question. “That’s a really dumb question, Slugger.”
She returned to wearing out the carpet. “What about some of those ninja throwing stars?”
“Who do you think you are? Bruce Lee Jr.?”
“More like Jackie Chan.” She did a hand-chopping karate move in front of him, pretending to block and hack at her opponent.
Mac batted her hands away, grabbed her arm, and spun her around so she was facing the desk with him behind her, pressing her into the desk.
“Hey,” she said, looking up at him over her shoulder. “Did they teach you that move in geotechnician school?”
“It was one of my electives.”
“Really? Babe Wrangling 101?”
“Something like that.” He spun her back to face him. “We need to get serious here, Slugger.”
She sobered. “I know.”
“How about I go to Yuccaville today while you’re working on the deck and see what I can find for you to use as self-defense.”
“Okay, but don’t forget about—”
“Crazy Kate, I know,” he finished for her. He caught her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “Will you at least give whatever I come back with a try?”
“For you, MacDonald Abraham Garner, the moon.”
He winced. “You remind me of your mother when you use my full name.”
“Would you rather I call you ‘Sweet Buns’ like the old boys do?”
He tugged her close, sliding his hands under her sweatshirt, his warm fingers sliding over her skin. “I’d rather you let me chain you up in our bedroom back home and feed you Moon Pies until this avalanche of shit finishes rolling down the mountainside.”
“Claire!” Gramps called from the top of the basement steps. “Get your ass up here.”
“Duty calls,” Mac said, stealing a kiss.
“I’ll be there in a minute!” she hollered back, holding onto Mac’s wrists when he tried to pull away. “What are you up to today?”
“Besides building an armory of weapons for my woman?” At her nod, he shrugged. “I was thinking about stopping by Joe’s old childhood home.”
“What?! You promised you’d wait for me to go inside.”
“I’ll remind you that you promised the same thing.”
“And I’ve waited for you.”
His gaze narrowed. “Are you crossing your fingers behind your back?”
She held her hands in front of him, fingers spread wide.
“Then why did your sister mention something to a certain county sheriff about you hanging around that old house a lot recently?”
Damn Ronnie and her big yap-trap. “I wasn’t hanging around it.”
“You know I can tell when you’re lying, right?”
And damn Mac for being able to read her so well. “Okay, so I may have parked in front of the house with Joe’s antique spyglass once or twice.” Or maybe nine or ten times, but who was counting? “But all I did was look at it, I swear. We agreed to go inside together, so I waited for you.”
He searched her face for a couple of seconds. “Last night at The Shaft, Grady offered to provide a police escort into the place.”
She gasped. “No way! Really?”
“Do you feel like checking out a spooky old house with me and the local sheriff, Nancy Drew?” He smiled, the dimple in his cheek showing under the beard scruff.
“Yes!” She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him so hard he stumbled backward a step, towing her along with him.
“Damn,” he muttered when she came up for air.
“You weren’t really going to go without me, were you?”
“I was tempted for safety reasons.”
She threatened him with her fist.
He laughed and kissed her knuckles.
“Claire Alice Morgan!” Gramps said, pounding on the basement door. “You two had better not be having sex on the desk again.”
Mac winked at her. “He’s giving me ideas.”
“You’re a bad boy.” She kissed his dimple, liking the scratchy feel against her lips. “Tell me your ideas.”
“Can you hear what they’re saying?” she heard Chester ask on the other side of the door.
“No, and I don’t want to.” Gramps pounded on the wood. “Claire, you need to get up to the kitchen and deal with your mother.”
Mac pulled away, grimacing. “And there goes that fantasy.”
“What’s wrong with my mother?” she called out.
“She’s crying.”
“Now what!” Claire growled, stepping away from Mac. She grabbed the newspaper from the desk and opened the door.
Gramps stood with a face full of scowl, but Chester was all grins.
“We weren’t having sex,” she told Gramps. Not this time, anyway. “We were discussing Chester’s latest news.” She held up the newspaper as proof.
Chester peeked around her. “That’s a big desk. Maybe I should bring my next date down here to buff the wood, give ’er a sparkling shine.”
“Nobody is buffing any
