Grace arched an eyebrow. “How did you know about that?”

“Like I said, fly on the wall. You wouldn’t believe all the juicy tidbits I hear.”

“I can imagine. Sad to say, there haven’t been any leads. At this stage, I doubt there will be, either. The sheriff said he’d keep his ear to the ground, but I’m not holding my breath.”

“I wouldn’t give up yet. If there’s a lead to be found, I expect Nate will dig it up. That man is a dynamo.” Jolene stuck the pencil back behind her ear. “I’ll get your order in the queue.”

As the waitress trotted toward the kitchen, Grace scanned the parking lot. Nate was gone. Perhaps headed back to the office to log a few more hours, if Jolene’s take on his work ethic was accurate.

No doubt it was. She’d come to the same conclusion. The man radiated tenacity and dedication. If she was on the wrong side of the law, she wouldn’t want to come up against the county sheriff. Nor would it be wise to count him out with any investigation, no matter how long the odds. Including the vandalism incident.

But after the affectionate parting she’d witnessed a few minutes ago, it would be prudent to count him out on the romance front.

Nate Cox was taken.

That didn’t mean she should change her plans for tomorrow, though.

No, she’d swing by his office, do what she had to do—even if her motives now were more professional than personal.

And after that, she’d walk a wide circle around the handsome sheriff and talk to Russ about any concerns she had on the work front.

Clamping his teeth together, Tyler slid from behind the wheel of his car in front of the house where he’d grown up.

He did not want to be here.

Waiting around for the other shoe to drop, however, was stupid. In the end, it would serve him better to be up-front with his father and take the consequences rather than stick his head in the sand and hope the problem went away.

Tyler surveyed the drive. As expected, Wayne’s truck was gone. His brother never missed his Wednesday night bowling-and-beer outing with his friends.

That meant his dad was home alone, probably in the barn repairing whatever piece of equipment had given him fits today.

Tyler forced his feet to carry him behind the house and across the small field that separated the living quarters from the outbuildings.

As he approached, the sharp clang of hammer against metal drifted across the humid air that hadn’t cooled off much despite the waning sunlight.

At the door to the barn, he stopped.

His father was standing beside the tractor that was long past its prime. The one Wayne always said his dad kept running with spit and luck. Hopefully that magic mix would continue to work, because after the purchase of the Wilson place, there wouldn’t be much money to spare for repairs.