Page 58 of In a Word, Yes

“That my latte?” Wyatt asks.

“Oh. Right. Hope that ain’t all you’re havin’, Sheriff. My daughter-in-law busted herbe-hind this morning makin’ all them scones.”

“Well, I—”

But already Zeke has departed like a roving tornado bound to touch down elsewhere.

Wyatt leans close and whispers. “Kids these days.”

I bite my lip to hold back the laughter burbling up. Too late.

You’d think we were still two middle school kids ourselves the way we descend into snickers.

“Hoo-o-o...” Wyatt’s laughter ends on a sigh.

How is it that this man is so easy to be with?I have a friend.A new old friend.Also, where did Awkward Lucy disappear to?

Wyatt stands. “I’d best go purchase one of those scones.” He takes a step, scans the place, then turns back. “Watch yourself. My gut tells me we’re under surveillance.”

“Oh, okay,” I say, clearing laughter from my throat. “You would know. But—” I flip over my cell and check the time. “Actually,Sheriff...”

Wyatt rolls his eyes at this.

“I have to leave pretty quick.”

To pick up my son.I should have saidto pick up my son.

Wyatt drops his shoulders and frowns overdramatically. My stomach does that elevator-drop thing. Gracious.Down girl. Drink your tea.

Momentarily alone, I can only shake my head in wonder at the total reversal of my angst. This turned out okay. Better than okay.

Wyatt returns with two forks and a plump golden pastry. “It’s our lucky day. Pumpkin spice.”

“Ahhh, you’re one ofthosepeople.”

“Obsessed.”

“You and my son.”

He savors a bite and chases it with a swig of coffee before sliding the plate to me. “We’re in this together, so don’t even think of not helping.” He pats his solid belly. “Got to watch my delicate figure.”

I chuckle, because there’s nothing delicate whatsoever about Wyatt’s figure, and also to shake off my awareness that his voice carries the kind of warm rasp that would be my undoing if I were a woman looking to be undone.

The scone flakes beautifully when I slice off a corner.

“So,” Wyatt says after a pause. “I just learned something here today. Lucy Montgomery has a son.”

I welcome the subject. This ought to forever secure us in the friend zone. “I have an amazing son.”

“No doubt.”

“No, really. He’s amazing.”

Wyatt grins. “Tell me about him.”

“Chase is ... well, he’s not like other kids. Let’s just say, for the Candy Crawl—it’s a Halloween parade through the downtown—he plans to go as H.J. Andrews.” I pause, awaiting the inevitable blank look. “Who is H.J. Andrews, you ask?”

Wyatt squints. “Is that the hijacker dude who parachuted out of a jet somewhere around here, got away with a load of cash?”