“Yeah, but …”
“You’ve seen how scarred up he is, girlie,” Harvey said. “He didn’t come by those wounds from rollin’ around in a meadow full of daisies.”
Natalie nodded, frowning down at her boots.
“Mac expects them to be home within the hour,” Claire said, taking off her Mighty Mouse cap and brushing several strands of hair out of her face.
She winced at the bright sunlight, still suffering from too much drinking last night. The pounding in her head had dulled thanks to some painkillers, but bending over repeatedly and working with loud power tools was reminding her why she needed not to overindulge with alcohol. She couldn’t even think about food yet. The smell of Gramps frying onions and eggs this morning for Ruby’s omelet had sent her rushing from the kitchen, spilling her black coffee on her faded La Diabla she-devil T-shirt.
“What did they find at the mine?” Chester asked.
“They didn’t make it up there. Coop got shot before they hit the trail.”
While Claire wasn’t happy Coop got hurt, she was relieved that they hadn’t been able to go up to the mine. She’d been jittery since waking up and learning from Chester that Mac, Butch, and Coop had headed up there this morning. Somebody had booby-trapped Humdigger mine for a reason. Who and why were questions she wanted to help Mac find the answer to someday soon—together.
While she was relieved none of the guys were seriously injured today, she had a bone to pick with Mac. Why hadn’t he woken her up and taken her along? He knew she wanted to go up there with him when he went next. He could have at least told her he was going. After all, she’d waited for him to check out Joe’s childhood home, dang it.
When they were in Tucson, he’d made her promise she’d include him in any of the posse plans, which she had technically so far, being that they hadn’t made any definite plans yet. If this long-term, long-distance relationship business was going to work for them, the open lines of communication needed to run both ways.
Claire looked over at Natalie, who was still staring at her boots like they were crystal balls giving her glimpses of doom and gloom. “What’s rattling around in your brain bucket, Natalie?”
Her cousin glanced her way, her expression troubled. “He’s a cop.”
Ohhh. Claire had a feeling Natalie was looking into the future and realizing the possibility of more bullet holes.
“So what if he is?” She jammed her hat back on her head. “Grady is, too. Besides, I’ve met plenty of retired cops who were still in one piece.” Although there were a few scars on them—some mental and others physical.
“But what if Coop is some kind of magnet for danger?”
“Life’s one big crap shoot,” Chester piped up.
Harvey grunted in agreement. “It’s like I told Sparky back home, ya never can tell which way a mule will jump.” He grabbed a beer from the cooler at his feet. “And if ya could, where’s the fun in that?”
Speaking of Deadwood, Claire asked, “Have you talked to Violet about your cop problem?”
“Not really. We’ve texted a few times about her kids and aunt, but that’s it.”
That was odd. Natalie and Violet were like sisters, usually sharing everything under the sun. “What’s up with that?”
Natalie rubbed her neck. “I don’t know. She’s been busy with life, I guess, and I haven’t had a lot of free time.”
“Bullshit. Quit playing dodgeball with me.”
Half of Natalie’s face pinched into a grimace. “Fuck, Claire. I’m flirting with disaster down here, and I don’t know that I want her to know about it.”
Claire’s bark of laughter echoed across the campground. “Sheez, Natalie. It’s not as if Coop is the grim reaper.” Unlike the killer knocking on Claire and Ronnie’s back door. After a quick scan of the hillside behind Natalie for the umpteenth time this morning, she focused back on her cousin. “Enjoy the moment, have some fun, and quit making this more than what it is.”
“What is it, though?”
“Hanky-panky with a side of spanky,” Harvey cut in.
“Sextracurricular activity,” Chester added.
Grinning, Harvey threw out, “A bit of grope-and-hope without the slap-and-nope.”
Chester wheezed. “A sexessful vacation-ship.”
Claire took off her hat and threw it at them. “Knock it off, Tweedledee and Tweedledum.” She turned back to Natalie. “I don’t know what ‘it’ is between you and Coop, but whatever ‘it’ is, you can’t seem to squelch it. So stop trying. It’s only making you more miserable and distracted, which is making working with you dangerous to my health.”
“Please, I’m not that distracted.”
“You screwed your glove to the beam earlier,” Chester reminded her.
“It was a tight fit in that crevice,” Natalie defended.
“And then you dropped the hammer drill on Claire’s foot,” Harvey added.
“My hands were sweaty.”
Claire snorted. The top of her foot still throbbed from that damned drill. “You’ve lost your tape measure three times so far this morning.”
Natalie crossed her arms. “You guys keep hiding it from me, I just know it.”
“Face it, Natalie. You’re a hot mess because of that cop.”
“I’m not hot.”
Claire walked over by the old boys and retrieved her hat, dusting it off before pulling it on. “How did things go last night, anyway? Did you invite Coop inside the Winnebago for a nightcap?” And then some.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Ah ha!” Chester said, cracking open a beer. “You owe me a ten-spot,” he told Harvey. “The Winnebago of Love was rockin’ and rollin’ from the horizontal boogie blues.”
“There was no ‘ah ha’ or boogie blues to be had, nosy nellies,” Natalie said. “Coop was a complete gentleman. He saw me safely inside and then left. Nothing else happened.”
The red blotches on Natalie’s cheeks were hard to read. Did they mean she was telling the truth and unhappy with Coop’s actions—or lack of actions, or did they mean she was hiding something from Claire and the peanut gallery about what
