Somewhere in Montana.

Yeah. Truax confirmed it.

Apropos of nothing she said, I think Truax and Haynes got a thing. The music switched to Dion‘s If I Should Fall Behind. He always felt like he should be on a fifties street corner in New York City when he heard that song. Truax and Haynes, huh? He thought about it. Their thing have any bearing on Lyda‘s death that you can see?

No. She kneaded. Was Brillo able to do an analysis on the crumbs you found next to her bed?

Traces of peanut oil.

She sighed. So. Accident, suicide, murder. Pick one.

Afraid so.

Hard on Jules.

Yes.

She went back to kneading the dough, and he retired to the couch with the latest Codex Alera book, having won the three-way wrestle over the most recent Amazon box with absolutely no shame over his superior size and strength. Between the Canim, the Vord, and Invidia Aquitaine, Tavi‘s problems were way worse than his, thank god. Perspective, even if fictional, was a wonderful thing.

Later, when red salmon filet, fresh greens from the garden, and bread out of the oven was on the table, she smiled at him over their laden plates. Good to have you home.

Good to be home.

They ate in silence for a few moments, but he‘d seen her expression. What? She gave a half smile and shook her head.

He actually put down his fork. What?

This is your first night home in a week.

He was taken aback. It‘s the job.

She sat back, laughing. It wasn‘t an accusation, just an observation. Reassured by her laughter, he said, What, then?

She picked up his hand and brought it to her mouth. Her lips tickled the skin of his palm and he tried not to jerk free. Her tongue traced his lifeline, and then her teeth closed over the mound at the base of his thumb and bit down, hard. The near pain shot straight to his groin. Jesus, Kate. His heart rate doubled and he was having difficulty breathing.

She soothed the wound with her tongue and released his hand. I missed you, is all. She went back to her food, all innocence and unconcern, although the corners of her wide, full mouth were perhaps a little more indented than before. He blinked down at his plate, trying to focus. The bass on Queen‘s We Will Rock You beat up through the soles of his feet. He picked up his fork but that only made him more conscious of the throb in his hand, which only made him more conscious of the sudden and acutely uncomfortable fit of his pants.

Fuck this, he said. He shoved his plate back, stood up, and reached for her, all in one smooth motion. It might have been harder if she‘d fought him, but no, she came laughing into his arms. She laughed harder when he cleared the table with a sweep of one arm and threw her down on it.