His tone didn’t invite further comments or questions. Heather wasn’t nosy by nature, but she did tend to speak her mind. “It’s not easy to have a relationship given your work, is it?”
“Not lately.”
“Because of where you’ve been posted, you mean. It’s dangerous?”
Wrong question. She saw it right away. He went ahead of her. She paused, noticing how still and quiet it was, not even a chickadee chirping in the white pines and hemlocks. Just ahead, the road dead-ended at a small clearing.
Brody stepped into the untouched snow. “This is where we used to park our cars. No point keeping it plowed now.” He glanced back at Heather. “You haven’t answered my question about Vic.”
“Have I noticed anything unusual?” She continued the short distance down to the clearing. “I’m not one to see danger at every turn.”
“I didn’t say there was any danger.”
She shrugged. “Okay. If you could give me a hint about what you’re after—”
“Anything that stood out to you as odd. Unexplained.”
“The sorts of things that get your imagination running wild but aren’t scary enough to get you to call the police?”
“That’s a start.”
“Not that I can think of, but I wouldn’t necessarily notice.” The man was all business. She followed him into the snow, grateful she’d worn proper boots today. “Is that why Vic asked you to come here? He’s worried about something that’s happened?”
“His imagination running wild is likely why he called me.”
She could see the snow-covered lake through the trees, sparkling in the bright afternoon sun. “Are you on duty? You mentioned you’re on home leave, but if you’re concerned about Vic—”
“I’m here as Vic’s friend, but I’m a DSS agent all the time. There is no ‘on’ and ‘off’ switch in the way you’re thinking.”
“It’s like being married.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
His voice had lowered, and she realized her mistake. If only she would think before she spoke, at least with anything that could remotely be construed as involving sex. But if she wasn’t one to agonize over every word, she also wasn’t one to dwell on her screwups.
She’d just be more careful next time.
Or try, anyway.
At least he’d dropped the all-business tone, if only for a few seconds. She flicked snow off a branch on a white pine at the edge of the clearing. “Should I be worried?”
“No. Not that it would matter. You’re a Sloan. You’re not the worrying type. You’re action oriented, and I don’t need you taking action. Just tell me if you remember anything unusual or if something unusual happens. Don’t you decide whether it’s worth mentioning. If it’s enough for you to wonder whether to tell me, it’s enough to tell me.”
“Got it. If Jacob Marley shows up in the attic dragging a chain, I’ll definitely let you know.”
Brody didn’t laugh.
“Okay, okay,” Heather tried not to let him see she was now ever so slightly intimidated by his role as a DSS agent. “I’ll let you know if I think of anything or if anything strange happens. Right now, I can’t remember ever thinking about calling Eric because of anything that’s gone on up here.”
“That’s good.”
He walked through the snow to a trail that wound through the trees. He motioned to her. “Come on. Let’s walk down to the lake.”
She hesitated, wondering if it’d been such a good idea to join him on this little adventure. Finally, she followed him onto the snow-covered trail. “Where was your house?” she asked.
“Other side of the clearing. It wasn’t much of a house. My grandfather built it. My parents and I moved out here a couple years before they split up. My mother stayed in Amherst until my senior year in high school. She grew up in New England but couldn’t wait to get to a warmer climate. I encouraged her. She was miserable. She loves Florida.”
“Has she remarried?”
He shook his head. “My father hasn’t, either. He says we’re not the marrying kind.”
“Maybe he and your mother aren’t. That doesn’t mean they get to write that script for you. You couldn’t wait to leave town, either.”
“I had some encouragement from a certain Sloan posse,” he said with no hint of bitterness.
Heather wasn’t going near that one, not now, at least. “And your father?”
“He liked it here well enough, but he needed a fresh start. I knew I wasn’t sticking around. He took off for South Florida right after I graduated high school and turned eighteen. He’s a fishing guide in the Florida Keys. He loves it. He says he likes to be able to fish year-round without having to drill holes in the ice.”
Heather followed him past the spot where his house used to be. “You stayed in town the summer after graduation,” she said.
“I lived out here on my own.”
“Vic encouraged you after your parents moved to Florida?”
Brody nodded and pushed through the soft snow down to the lake, leaving no opening for further discussion. Heather joined him on the shore. A breeze stirred up the light snow out in the middle of the lake, but she couldn’t feel it where they were standing.
“What happened to your house?” she asked.
“I demolished it the night I left town.” He kept his gaze pinned on the lake, but it was obvious he wasn’t seeing snow and ice or the winter blue sky, or feeling the cold. He was back to that summer when he’d lived out here on his own. “Call it my personal going-away party. It didn’t take much effort to tear it down.”
“How long after your feud with my brothers was this?”
“There was no feud.”
“So what was it—a fight, a misunderstanding?”
Brody turned to her, his smile surprising her, disarming her. “A hell of a fight.”
“A hell of a fight that involved pumpkins,” she said.
He winked. “You have to love Knights Bridge, don’t you?”
“There’s more to the story, but I will let you enjoy being back here in peace. It’s a beautiful spot, Brody.”
“Yes, it is.”
She thought she heard his voice crack slightly but couldn’t be sure. For so controlled a man, it would amount to overwhelming emotion. “When you lived here as a kid, did you ever think you’d do the things you’ve done since then? Become a federal agent, travel the world, protect embassies, consulates, important people?”
“I doubt I knew what an embassy was, never mind a consulate.”
“It’s easier to talk to you than I thought it would be. Or does your job teach you how to draw people out? I’m not under suspicion, am I?”
“Under suspicion of being a good walking companion.”
“So is Rohan,” Heather said with a smile.
“You’re at least as cute as Rohan.”
“Cute?”
Brody grinned. “Thought you’d appreciate that. I didn’t say cuddly, at least.”
“That’s good. Definitely. Cuddly would be almost as bad as saying I have Chris’s jaw.” She brushed snow off the top of a waist-high boulder. “Do you ever think about selling this land?”
“Sometimes. I’ll have to figure that out at some point. Lakefront property is popular, but Echo Lake is out-of-the-way and largely undeveloped. Motorized boats aren’t allowed on the water. There’s no beach, no ice cream stand or clam shack.”
“That’s an attraction for some people.”
“Vic, for one. He kayaks, but that’s about it. He doesn’t swim, a good thing, maybe, since the water’s cold most of the time.”
“I like swimming in colder water,” Heather said. “Otherwise it feels like I’m in a bathtub. Did you notice the cold as a kid?”
>
“Yep. There’s a cold spring right over there.” He pointed to a small cove to their left. “Hit that, and you knew it. Have you ever gone swimming out here?”
“No, but I’ve dipped into some freezing-cold brooks.”
His gaze lingered on the cove. Heather felt as if he’d gone somewhere else in his mind and wasn’t with her on Echo Lake on a January afternoon. She studied him, unsure of whether he was aware of her next to him. She noted the line of his jaw, the shape of his mouth.
“I’ve had days when I would have loved to jump into that cove.” He spoke quietly, without looking at her. “I wouldn’t have complained about the cold water.”
“You’ve worked in desert heat, haven’t you?”
He pulled his gaze from the lake and shifted to her. His dark eyes were unreadable. “A hundred eighteen degrees with no shade.”
“I’ve never been in that kind of heat. Right now it’s hard enough to imagine fifty degrees.”
“Are you cold?”
“Not really. I’m dressed for the weather today.” She squinted out at the lake. “It’s so quiet and beautiful here. When things get tough in your work, do you ever imagine yourself living here again? Building your own place? Or wouldn’t that help because Echo Lake is in Knights Bridge?”
“It helps. Sometimes.”
“But you have to keep your mind on your job.”
“Don’t we all? Letting your mind wander can lead to getting fingers chopped off in your line of work. Your brothers came out here a few times. Eric, Justin and Brandon, not Adam and Christopher.”
“You’ve had nothing to do with them since you left town.”
“That’s right.”
“You remember their names.”
He smiled. “Burned into my brain.”
“They didn’t cut you any slack with that epic fight of yours, did they?”
“Not the Sloan style.” He pulled off a glove. “They were right not to cut me any slack.”
“They weren’t nice about it, though, were they?”
He laughed. “No.” With his ungloved hand, he adjusted her hat for her. “It was crooked. One side was about to cover your eye. I know you could have managed, but your gloves are covered in snow.”
“That’s what I get for playing in the snow. They’re still warm, though.”
He flicked a small clump of snow off her shoulder. “Thanks for walking out here with me, Heather.”
“Anytime.” She caught herself. “Well. I mean...” Gad. Desperate, she looked up toward the road. “We should get back.”
Brody leaned in close to her. She didn’t draw back, didn’t say a word. “We should,” he said softly.
Before she could respond, he kissed her on the lips, his mouth lingering on hers just long enough that she knew this wasn’t an entirely impulsive act. Even so, she barely had a chance to react before he stood straight.
He smiled at her. “Might as well get that out of the way, don’t you think?”
“Out of the way? Damn, that’s romantic, Brody. Thanks.”
His smile broadened. “You didn’t object.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t pleasant.” Because it was pleasant. Her heart was still racing. She took a breath, determined to remain as unaffected by the quick kiss as he seemed to be. “What are you planning to do, Agent Hancock—reel me in and break my heart so you can get back at my brothers and Knights Bridge?”
“Nothing that Machiavellian. I don’t do revenge, and I don’t reel in women with five older brothers.” He spoke lightly, as if kissing her had given him an energy boost. He slung an arm over her shoulders. “Body heat helps prevent hypothermia.”
“I’m not in danger of getting hypothermia, thank you very much. You’re getting a kick out of this, aren’t you?”
“Out of you, Heather. I’m getting a kick out of you. Come on. Let’s head back.”
She found herself leaning into him as they walked up the trail to the road. He kept his arm over her shoulders. She resisted putting her arm around him. That would have been going too far. This was friendly.
Well, maybe a little more than friendly.
The wind picked up, chilling her face, but she could still feel his lips on hers. What she was in danger of, she knew, was being hopelessly attracted to this man—a federal agent who would clear out of Knights Bridge in a matter of days and likely never return.
She put the thought out of her mind when she and Brody reached the road. It was a long walk back to Vic’s house, and she had work to do before she called it a day. She was an optimist, but she was also practical.
Besides, Brody showed no sign he wanted to repeat their kiss.
No sign he regretted it, either, Heather thought as she slipped out from under his arm, grabbed a fistful of snow and tossed it at him.
He batted it away and laughed. “What was that about?”
“Making sure your mind’s on the road.” She grinned at him. “It’s good to be back home, isn’t it?”
“It has its moments.”
“Back there...” She shook excess snow off her gloves. “That was you at eighteen again.”
He frowned at her. “Me at—” He smiled. “I see where you’re going with this. Sorry, Heather, but no, it wasn’t. I had a lot less control at eighteen than I do now.”
Not again. She groaned to herself, but if nothing else, she’d just made sure she wouldn’t be cold on the walk back to Vic’s house.
Eight
Brody veered off to the guesthouse with a quick—almost curt—goodbye. When Heather arrived back in Vic’s kitchen, she gathered up her stuff and got out of there. She didn’t want to run into Vic and have him guess there was a bit of sexual tension crackling between her and Brody, and she needed to get her head back into her work.
She was working, after all.
She dismissed and suspected Brody had dismissed the kiss and the arm over the shoulders as arising from his emotions, however much he was trying to repress them, at being back at the spot where he’d grown up.
Easier to kiss her and fix her crooked hat than to acknowledge the impact of his return to his hometown.
Heather stopped at Frost Millworks, located in a modern building above a mid-nineteenth-century sawmill that had been converted into an apartment and storage. Jessica Frost had lived there until her September marriage to Mark Flanagan, and now Heather’s brother Justin was renovating it. Technically, he was still living there, but he was spending most of his time with Samantha.
Randy and Louise Frost were the proprietors of Frost Millworks. Heather expected to find Louise in the small front office, but instead Randy was there, a solid man in his early fifties and a recently retired stalwart of the Knights Bridge volunteer firefighting force.
“I hear Brody Hancock’s back in town,” Randy said by way of greeting.
Heather wasn’t surprised he knew. “Yep. He’s staying up at Vic Scarlatti’s place.”
“How long’s he in town?”
“I’ve no idea. He’s not involved in renovations.”
Randy eyed her. “Why are you so prickly?”
“I’m not. I don’t want to have to explain Brody to everyone in town just because I’m working up there. I don’t know anything. I don’t even know why there’s bad blood between him and my brothers. I don’t want to know, either.”
“Don’t want to know?” Randy grinned. “That’d be a first for our Heather Sloan.”
His infectious good nature made her smile. “Calling me nosy?”
“You like to be well-informed,” he said, still grinning.
“That’s true. I guess you’re right, and I am prickly. Sorry. I don’t know why Brody is here or how long he’s staying. He and Vic Scarlatti are friends, and he still has property o
n the lake.”
“He’s also a federal agent. He’s not expecting trouble here, is he?”
“I wondered the same thing, but I think he’d tell us if there was anything to worry about. I’m running behind today. I have a few questions about the rest of the order for Vic’s renovations. Do you have a few minutes?”
Randy nodded. “Sure thing.”
When they finished going over the order, Heather drove out to the offices of Sloan & Sons, located in the converted red-painted barn at her family homestead south of the village, instead of north where Echo Lake was located. Her father, Jack Sloan, a solid man in his early sixties, was at his desk with ten coffee mugs lined up on his desk.
Heather grinned at him. “That kind of day, huh, Pop?”
“Nah. I collected them from around this place.” He pointed a thick finger at the lineup. “Any of them yours?”
“Not a one.”
“I’m having a meeting on leaving crap around here. Or maybe I won’t, and I’ll just knock some heads together. Not that it’d do any good. It was your mother’s idea to get rid of disposable cups.” He sighed heavily. “Look at the mold in that one. That predates the shift to real mugs. I found it in the office supply closet.”
Heather sat on a chair next to his desk. “Pop, you know we’re talking about coffee mugs, right?”
“I’m obsessed. It started this morning. It’s like an Easter egg hunt, except all the eggs have gone bad. We need a dishpan where we can all put our mugs and then we wash them at the end of the day. What do you think?”
“Great idea.”
“You don’t care. My biggest problem of the day, and it doesn’t move my one-and-only daughter’s needle.”
It wasn’t Jack Sloan’s biggest problem of the day, and they both knew it. Heather unzipped her vest but didn’t take it off. She wasn’t staying long. She hadn’t bothered with her hat and gloves.
“Brody Hancock just left,” her father said.
“Brody was here? Why didn’t you say anything? Why are we talking about coffee mugs?” But when she noticed her father’s eyebrows go up, she forced herself into a more neutral reaction. “What did he want?”
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