“If I had any doubts about my former client, don’t you think I would have acted on them?” She located a skillet and cheese grater. “I promise you, my mystery client isn’t a threat.”

“Exactly. Nobody is. It was a random crime. Some thug who was lurking in the alley looking for easy prey.”

She wasn’t getting any more out of him now, and she temporarily backed off. “How are things with Deidre coming along?”

“Slower than I’d like, but she’ll come through.”

“You’re sure about that.”

“She’d be crazy not to. I have a great concept and the right connections to carry it off.”

She didn’t miss the determined set of his jaw. In Coop’s mind, once he’d decided on something, it was as good as done.

After that, they worked together without saying much other than “Stop hogging the sink” and “Where’s the sriracha?” She sautéed the vegetables in a little olive oil, tossed in the eggs she’d beaten, and topped them with the herbs he’d chopped along with a generous handful of grated cheddar. He took plain white plates from the cupboard and extracted the bread he’d put in the toaster.

By the time everything was ready, the domesticity of the scene had started making her itchy. She wished she didn’t like him so much, but how could she not? Coop was the man she’d have wanted to be if she’d been male. Setting aside his money and fame, he was smart, he understood hard work, and, except for being stubborn and dictatorial, he was rock-bottom decent.

“Let’s eat outside,” she said as he poured them coffee. “But only if you zip your sweatshirt first.” She needed a good reason other than the real one. “Those bruises aren’t exactly appetizing.”

“Your sympathy for human suffering warms my heart.”

“I’m a giver, all right.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled.

Even on a chilly October morning, the nook he’d created in the corner of the garden was inviting. Its vine-covered latticework made a natural windbreak, and the purple canvas chair cushions were thick and comfortable. It had been a long time since she’d had anything as tasty as the fluffy omelet she’d made with the ingredients he’d gathered. She was almost... happy.

***

Coop watched her across the table. Pipe didn’t believe in picking at her food, and even though she took small bites, she managed to consume the omelet in record time. When she remembered to eat, she gave it all she had, the same way she did everything. How could someone so tough, so determined, and so ballsy be so intrinsically female?