But so he could do what he loved to do to protect the citizens of Magdalene without a thought of the worry it caused me, I’d hide that from him for as long as he gave his time to the MFD.

Then he said something to me that, not with his words but with the strength he assumed I had in sharing them, was one of the biggest compliments he could give me.

“It was arson, Amy.”

I stared up at him. “Really?”

“Chief’s callin’ in an investigator. We don’t have one workin’ for the county because we don’t need one. But it was not one fire that spread. We found fire origin in three of those shops. We saw it. We know it. Bobby wants someone to make it official so Coert’s got everything he needs.”

“Who would do that?” I asked.

“No clue,” he answered. “Could be some issue with those shops or that development. Could be we got a fire bug.”

Oh, God. No.

I hid the panic at the very idea of that and what it would mean to the boys of the MFD, primarily Mickey, when I saw the fatigue gathered around his eyes and said, “Okay, honey. It’s out now and all’s good. But it’s late so I need to let you go so you can get some rest.”

“Okay, baby, kiss first.”

I nodded, rolling up on my toes as he bent into me and we shared a quick, sweet kiss that was a little wet since, during it, he touched his tongue to mine.

I rolled back and whispered, “Glad you and all the guys are safe, Mickey.”

“Me too, babe.”

I gave him a squeeze and ordered, “Go to bed.”

“Right,” he muttered, bending in for another lip touch before I pulled away and moved away so he could get out of his car door and close it.

“Sleep well,” I told him, grabbing his hand and leaning back into him.

“Will do. You too.”

“Will do. ’Night, honey.”

He tightened his hand in mine before letting it go on his, “’Night, Amy.”

I grinned, turned and walked away only to stop and turn around when he said loudly with great humor, “Jesus, darlin’.”

“What?” I asked.

“Only my heiress would have fluffy slippers with sequins on ’em.”

I loved it that with the night he had, he was smiling and I’d done something to make him do it.

Thus I went for more.

“There’s not much I do to keep up the Bourne-Hathaway name, but I feel it’s a moral imperative to wear appropriate heiress slippers.”

He shook his head and ordered, “Go home.”

“You got it,” I replied, turned and strolled back to my house.

This time, I didn’t do it letting Mickey watch me in my yoga pants and sequined slippers.

I did it turning once and waving hard, with a big smile.