He shook her hand and replied, “Liza. Good to meet you too.”

She let him go and nabbed both her boys by the tops of their heads, tousling their hair, “These are my two crazy bugs, Jarot,” she tousled his hair again, “and Robbie,” another tousle for Robbie. “Boys, say hello to Detective Keaton then back downstairs with the both of you.”

Jarot raised a hand in a quick wave, and muttered, “’Lo, Dee-tetive Keaton.” Then he did as he was told and raced away.

Robbie stared at him and repeated, “Wanna see the gun.”

“Sorry, bud, didn’t bring my gun,” Chace replied on a lie since he did but it was in his truck.

Robbie kept at it. “Then wanna see the badge.”

Liza’s hand slid down to the back of his neck, she bent over him and ordered, “Badge later. Now, say hello then go downstairs, honey.”

He looked at his mother and narrowed his eyes, clearly peeved.

Then he looked back up at Chace and said a sulky, “’Lo,” before he also raced away.

Liza looked back at Chace, sharing, “I tell myself he’s in a stage but this is denial. He’s my baby and I spoil him. I should probably stop doing that but I can’t. So his future wife will have to sort him out and I’m just going to enjoy myself.”

Faye got close, leaned into him and up in order to whisper, “This is not a good plan.”

“As usual, I agree with my girl Faye,” a deep male voice came their way.

Chace looked to the stairs to see a shortish, stocky, prematurely graying, good-looking man walking up them wearing a welcoming smile and a mountain man uniform of jeans and a flannel shirt that clashed violently with his wife’s apparel. He also looked like a man who didn’t give a fuck. He was who he was and she was who she was and even though they didn’t go together, taking them in it was clear, in their way, they fit.

He had his hand up before he made it to Chace but only continued talking when Chace’s hand gripped his.

“Boyd Newman,” he introduced himself, still smiling.

“Chace Keaton,” Chace told him something he already knew not only because he was seeing the man’s sister-in-law and this was undoubtedly reported to him but because everyone in the county knew who he was.

“Good to meet you, man,” he gripped Chace’s hand tight but not combative, just friendly then they broke the hold.

“Uh… you want to let the man come down and get a beer or what?” Silas called from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’ll take your coats,” Liza muttered and Chace moved to Faye to help her with hers before giving it to a now beaming, didn’t miss the help with her sister’s coat, Liza.

Then he took off his own and gave it to her. She tucked both under her arm and moved to a door on the landing that was clearly the coat closet.

Faye grabbed his hand and walked him down the stairs at the bottom of which she let him go because she had no choice seeing as Silas engulfed her in a bear hug that included several hearty claps on the back and a couple of swings. He let her go and stuck out a hand to Chace.

Chace took it and got a, “Chace, beer, bourbon, vodka or what?”

“Silas. Beer,” Chace answered.

Silas let his hand go but lifted his, clapped him stoutly on the arm, moved away and Sondra was there.

“Chace, happy to have you here,” she beamed up at him, offering her hand. Chace took it and squeezed while wondering if, when Faye got older, her hair would turn that attractive silvery-white just around her face like her mother’s was. He also hoped it would.

No fancy clothes for Sondra Goodknight, as ever. Also no makeup.

Nice jeans. A turtleneck sweater that became her figure and it was a soft beige color that became her complexion. A chunky, low-hanging, necklace made of silver, turquoise and coral that looked vintage and was definitely Native American. Stocking feet.

Family dinner. Family time. Family. No high heels. Just wool socks and because her daughter’s boyfriend was there for the first time, she threw on a necklace.

Yeah, he liked Sondra Goodknight.

“Good to be here, Sondra,” he muttered.

She gave him a bright smile much like Liza’s, he let her hand go and Faye moved in for a kiss on the cheek and to hand her the flowers.

“These are from Chace, Mom” she told her mother, Sondra took the bouquet and her eyes went to the flowers then to him and they were even warmer.

“Pink. Perfect,” she said softly then finished, the gratitude gentle in her voice, conveying the feeling behind the words without overdoing it, “Thank you, Chace.”

He lifted his chin.

She grinned at him and announced, “I’ll put these in water and there are a few things to finish up in the kitchen. Go in and sit a spell.” She turned to her daughter, lifted a hand to touch Faye’s cheek lightly and then whispered softly, “Pretty as a picture.” She dropped her hand but tipped her head toward the family room and went on, “Take your man in to get comfortable, honey. Your Dad will bring in his beer.”

Faye grabbed his hand and led him to the right, directly toward a couch in the family room.

Chace followed, his mind consumed with Sondra’s soft voice saying, Pretty as a picture.

Light touch. Loving comment to her daughter delivered in a quiet way that was practiced but that made the compliment no less heartfelt. Instead, it amplified it. Stocking feet. Comfortable in her home. Wanting you to be too. She appreciated the flowers, made that known but didn’t go overboard in a way that would make Chace ill-at-ease.

As these thoughts swiftly moved through his head, Chace couldn’t help but think what it would be like when Faye eventually met his mother.

Valerie Keaton wouldn’t be wearing wool socks and a beautiful, Native American necklace. She’d be in a brand new outfit that would cost more than Faye earned in a month. She would praise Chace, no doubt, and act loving and sweet. She’d also be nervous, likely clumsy because of it, embarrassed because of that and, finally, overly apologetic. She’d also try too hard and therefore manage to smother Chace and Faye in her efforts to make Faye like her at the same time convince Faye that Chace could move mountains.

Except Misty for reasons he couldn’t avoid, Chace had never taken a woman to meet his mother not only because there wasn’t a woman he’d had that was important enough to meet her but also because his Ma would work herself up about it. Chace took great pains to avoid working his mother up even before his life went to shit for the ultimate pain he took to avoid just that. An unnecessary meeting with a woman not important enough for it wasn’t worth it.

Faye Goodknight would most definitely be meeting Valerie Keaton. Chace already knew this. But, until that moment, he hadn’t been dreading it.

Now he was.

He barely got his ass in the couch and his woman arranged in the curve of his arm before Robbie was standing in front of him.

This time, he smacked his hand on Chace’s knee and demanded, “Badge!”

Chace uncurled his arm from around Faye, leaned forward and pulled his badge out of back pocket. As he was doing this, Liza handed Faye a glass of wine and his beer.

But she also leaned in and whispered low but loud enough Chace could hear, “My baby sister finally got laid.”

He felt Faye stiffen at his side even as he felt his own gut get tight, sensing her embarrassment.

Robbie, missing this or more likely focused, snapped, “Badge!” again with another smack on Chace’s knee.

Liza went on, “Written all over you, babe. Awesome.”

Liza moved away, grinning to herself and making big eyes at Faye.

When he noted Faye was glaring at her sister with narrowed eyes, deciding to be annoyed, not embarrassed, Chace decided for her sake to ignore it and concentrate on her nephew.

So he flipped open his badge for Robbie who instantly tore it out of his hand.

Faye handed him his beer and muttered, “Too bad you didn’t bring your gun.”

Yep, annoyed.

And cute.

Chace grinned.

Robbie heard Faye and agreed with, “Yeah! Gun!”

“No, gun, Robbie. Shut your trap about it, kid, jeez,” Boyd ordered, coming in carrying a bottle of beer and taking a seat in one of the four armchairs scattered around the space. This gave Chace a clue why Faye, who lived alone, had more armchairs than anyone he knew.

Robbie whirled on his father and fired back, “Shut your trap.”

Boyd’s face changed to the Dad look no kid wanted to see and his voice was rumbling when he said one word.

“Robert.”

Robbie scrunched up his face then wisely stopped giving attitude, dropped his head and got lost in his study of Chace’s badge.

At this point, from nowhere, Jarot popped up in front of him.

“You ever shoot anyone?” he asked.

“No,” Chace answered.

Jarot looked crestfallen and Robbie’s head snapped up showing he thought his brother’s line of questioning was more interesting than Chace’s badge.

Jarot perked up again and asked, “You ever shoot at anyone?”

Since he had, albeit only with the intent to warn thus miss, Chace looked at Boyd who now had his wife sitting on the arm of his chair and he got the entire story with one glance.

Liza was sipping her wine and gazing at her son as if he just masterfully played an entire piece by Chopin on the piano and did it using nothing but the power of his mind.

Boyd had his eyes aimed at the ceiling.

No help there.

Faye, luckily, chimed in.

“Jarot, honey, maybe this conversation can happen when you’re twenty-five.”