“Salad isn’t a meal.” Hannah’s face scrunched. “I could really go for a steak, rare, and potatoes any way you can make them. You’ll have to cook at Grant’s house, though. The dog has been alone all day.”

“I can do that.”

They stopped at a grocery store a few miles outside town.

“Coffee,” Hannah whimpered, making a beeline for the beverage counter.

Brody selected two hefty sirloins and a bag of potatoes. Hannah appeared at his elbow, bliss on her face as she took a long sip. She licked her lips. Distracting.

“How about a vegetable?” he asked.

Hannah gave him a sour-lemon face. “Not for me.”

He grabbed a bag of string beans. “They won’t kill you.”

“I have no proof of that.”

He paid for the groceries, and they went back to the car. Brody’s step was lighter at the prospect of an evening with a smart woman, a quiet dinner, and some entertaining conversation. A man couldn’t ask for much more.

His phone buzzed halfway home. Unfortunately, he recognized the number. The Pub. Chet. So much for balancing on the edge of the wagon.

Brody glanced over at Hannah. “I’m sorry. I have to answer this.”

“Work?”

“Not entirely.” It felt very personal, but there was no protecting anyone’s privacy tonight. If Brody didn’t answer the call, the Pub’s bartender would have to call police dispatch. Pushing a button on his steering wheel, he answered the call.

“Detective McNamara?”

“Yeah.”

“This is Todd down at The Pub. We have a situation,” Todd said.

“What is it?” Brody’s appetite dissipated. If Todd was calling Brody directly, Chet was involved.

“Chet. He’s getting into it with another customer. They’re both acting like assholes. So far it’s just posturing and insults, but Chet’s in a foul mood tonight, and I’m too damned old to break up a fight.”

“I’m on my way.”

The sound of indecipherable shouting came over the line.

“If shit gets physical, I’m calling the police,” Todd warned.

“Be there in five.” Brody made a U-turn and headed into town. He pressed the pedal to the floor. The SUV shot forward. The Pub was a quiet neighborhood bar. Most of the clientele would be regulars stopping for a few beers after work or popping in to catch the hockey game.

Hannah grabbed for the armrest. “Is something wrong?”

“Sorry.” Brody straightened the wheel. “Yes. Do you mind if we make a stop? I should have asked you before I agreed.”

“It’s fine. I’m not in a rush to get anywhere.”

“But you’re exhausted, and I promised to feed you.”

“I just slept for three hours and finished a large coffee. I feel better than I have all day. Can you tell me what happened?”