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.”

Chace felt his lips tip up but Jarot just looked to his aunt, back to Chace and didn’t give up.

“You ever get shot?”

“No,” Chace answered.

“Shot at?” Jarot persevered.

Chace was silent because he had. This was the time he shot back as a warning, missed, scared the wired junkie out of his mind, as was his intent, and the junkie dropped his gun. This he was not going to tell Jarot or Faye.

Faye read his silence and her body got tight beside him so he lifted his arm and curled it around her again.

“Jarot,” she said softly when he had her tucked close.

Jarot again changed tactics. “Arrested anyone?”

“Yes,” Chace answered.

“Lots of them?” Jarot kept up his interrogation.

“My fair share,” Chace told him.

“Cool,” he whispered.

“Hey,” Robbie spoke up and Chace looked at him to see his head tipped to the side and his face screwed up. “Why you holdin’ Auntie Faye?”

“Because she’s my girlfriend,” Chace replied.

His upper lip scrunched up into his nose and he said with disgust, “Auntie Faye is your girlfriend?”

“Robert,” Boyd clipped and Robbie whirled on his father.

“She’s gross!” he shouted then immediately shared the reasons behind his opinion. “She gives sloppy kisses!”

“Only to you, honey,” Liza told him and her dancing eyes went to Faye before she went on, “Hopefully, she gives Detective Keaton other kinds of kisses.”

“All kisses are sloppy,” Robbie retorted with authority then finished, “and gross.”

“Trust your father on this, boy, they aren’t,” Boyd informed him with true authority that Robbie completely missed.

“They are,” Robbie disagreed. “I know ‘cause Molly keeps givin’ ‘em to me at recess and they’re gross.”

“Molly’s Robbie’s girlfriend,” Jarot shared then looked to his brother. “Molly and Robbie, sittin’ in a tree, k… i… s… s… i… n… g,” he sang, grinning an evil kid grin at his brother.