“How about some breakfast?” she asked.

“I was supposed to cook for you.”

She opened the fridge and took out a carton of eggs. “We’ll get to that.”

A new revelation occurred to Brody: No matter how bad a day could be, having someone to share it with helped. He’d never minded being alone before. But now . . .

He squashed the warm and fuzzy feeling that swamped him. Hannah was only here because she was hurt. She didn’t want to be in Scarlet Falls. As soon as she was fully recovered, she’d be back to the jet-set life she loved. Thanks to the doctor yesterday, though, Brody would have her for the next month. Maybe he shouldn’t get too attached—as if there were anything he could do to stop himself. Just watching her make him breakfast made him want to spend many more mornings with her.

“I had to report Chet’s behavior from last night.” He glanced at his watch. “He’s probably in the chief’s office right now.”

Taking an egg from the carton, she paused. “I’m sorry. Will he lose his job?”

“I imagine he’ll be encouraged to retire. His drinking has been a problem in the past. He was hanging from his last fingertip with the chief.”

Hannah whipped eggs and milk and dumped the mixture into a frying pan. She inserted four slices of bread into the toaster. “What will he do now?”

Brody shook his head. “I don’t know. He doesn’t like to have a lot of leisure time.”

“I can empathize.” She divided eggs and toast onto two plates and slid one in front of him. She brought orange juice and butter to the island and took the seat next to him. “He needs a distraction.”

Brody glanced sideways at her. She was toying with her eggs.

“How do you feel this morning?”

“Fine.”

He gave her a skeptical head tilt.

“I really do feel fine.” She buttered a slice of toast and ate it. “Just bored.”

“You seem a lot more accepting about being out of work for a month this morning.”

“Watching Chet gave me some perspective last night. You’d think Lee’s death would have been enough to knock some sense into me. Work can’t be everything.” She drank coffee. “Maybe I need a hobby.”

“Like knitting?”

She snorted. Wiping her mouth with a napkin, she said, “I don’t think that would work.”

“Macramé? Bead art? Pottery?” He’d had this same conversation with Chet, and it was just as humorous to envision Hannah in some sort of sedentary task. Neither of them was suited to leisure activities.

“There’s nothing wrong with any of those hobbies,” she said with a laugh.

“No, but I can’t picture you doing any of them.” He considered her. “What skills do you have?”

“Lately? Sleeping.”

“You could be a mattress tester.”

“Very funny.” She rolled her eyes.