Dang it, she was happy for Kate. Truly. Her cousin had been a mess the last time Natalie was in town—pregnant by accident without any hope that Butch would want the child, let alone the woman carrying his kid. Natalie had whooped and danced weeks later when Claire had called to tell her that Butch and Kate had patched things up and were back together arguing about what color to paint the nursery.
And baby makes three …
Meanwhile, Natalie’s own chances of having a family were shrinking by the day. Another few years and she’d be reaching the upper ages of safe baby-carrying. Sure, she could have a kid with a sperm donor or adopt, but watching her best friend raise her twins on her own had shown her the hard life of single parenting. Natalie would much rather have someone there with whom to share the highs and lows of family life.
But Coop wasn’t that “someone.” He was married to his job. Hell, most days he didn’t have time for a girlfriend, let alone a kid. All that the future held with him was sex.
Good sex, though.
Possibly really good sex if she went by the taste she’d had that night behind the Purple Door Saloon.
But sex wasn’t everything. There were the rest of the hours in a day to consider, and that was when Coop would be gone, out risking his life to keep Deadwood’s streets safe.
Her best bet was to play it cool and keep things mellow with Coop.
Just friends. Groaning at how boring that sounded, she grabbed her order pad and headed for a table filled with a handful of dusty cowboys who looked fresh from the range.
As she made her way back to the bar with their orders, a pair of gray eyes watched her approach.
Her heart swooned, the fickle organ.
When had Coop arrived? She dragged her gaze from his and noticed another familiar face on the next bar stool over. Grady was missing his uniform tonight. He must have gotten off early enough to go home and change.
Where was Ronnie?
Natalie found her cousin back near Mississippi. So had Grady, and judging from his pinched brow, he wasn’t thrilled about it either.
“Howdy, boys.” She handed off her order to the bartender. “How are my favorite law dogs this evening?”
Chapter Twelve
“Who’s the undercover cop?” Mississippi asked Ronnie.
“What undercover cop?” She picked up his empty sarsaparilla bottle and set it on her tray with the other used beer mugs and martini glasses.
Cops didn’t concern her much these days, undercover or not. She had bigger problems.
“The one your cousin is flirting with at the bar. He’s sitting next to the sheriff.”
Grady was here? She looked over her shoulder and ran smack into his hard stare.
She smiled at him, trying to be sunny in spite of the shit storm swirling around her tonight.
Grady frowned back, all dark clouds and thunder.
Great, there were more squalls and rain on the horizon. Wasn’t that just her damned luck lately?
“Your boyfriend looks like he’s drinking a glass of bitter beer,” Mississippi said, chalking his pool cue.
“Yep.” She dragged her gaze away from Grady, turning her back to him. She blew out a breath of defeat. “I wonder what in the hell I did now.”
Between the diamond killer, Lyle, and now Grady, she couldn’t seem to catch a break. This damned-if-she-did and damned-if-she-didn’t teeter-totter ride was nauseating her.
“Maybe you should’ve included him today.” Mississippi set the chalk on the edge of the pool table. “You still can, you know.”
“Sure, I could.” She grabbed the empty plate from his table. “But I don’t want to.” Not yet, anyway.
The phone call today with Lyle had stirred the bubbling brew of fury and humiliation in her core to a boil again, spurring heated blasts of cursing and streams of acidic tears at random. She needed to keep her distance from Grady until her emotions had settled back into a low simmer so she didn’t open her mouth and burn him to a crisp with a fireball of rage.
“Stubborn much?” Mississippi lined up a shot at the seven ball.
“Kiss my ass, FBI.” She passed behind him to grab an empty glass from a shelf on the wall cue rack and bumped his pool cue, screwing up his shot. “Oops.”
His gaze hardened. “Your fangs are showing.”
She scowled back. “You can thank the rat bastard who kept calling me ‘darling’ today for that.”
“You didn’t answer me about the undercover cop.”
Ronnie chanced a glance toward the bar again. Grady’s back was to her now thanks to Butch, who’d taken Gary the bartender’s place. From the looks of the situation, Grady was introducing Coop to Butch. Natalie was missing from the scene. She must have gone in back to help Katie or paid a visit to the ladies’ room.
“The cop is a friend of Natalie’s from South Dakota who’s down here on vacation this week.”
“Judging from the way he watches your cousin when she’s not looking, I’d say he’s daydreaming about strip searches and handcuffs, and not necessarily in that order.”
“Maybe, but Natalie’s on sabbatical from men.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.”
“With those lips of hers, that’s a damned shame.”
Ronnie had a feeling Coop the cop would drink to that.
“You’re being flagged.” Mississippi pointed toward a table with five college-aged girls.
“No, I believe they’re waving at you to join them.” Their smooth faces and eager grins looked younger than the twenty-one years their driver’s licenses had indicated when she checked them. “They’re here to celebrate the cute little redhead’s birthday. Another margarita for her, Mr. FBI, and I bet you could get her to unwrap you later in your pickup.”
He grunted and lined up another shot. “Way too young and green for me. I like riper versions with softer curves.”
She watched him sink the seven ball. “Riper often means they come with bruises.” Ronnie was covered
