Page 56 of The SEAL and the Sheriff

“I’ll grab wipes,” Jen said, unfolding herself from the couch.

Sarah headed for the dining room, the same reflex that had her moving toward any crisis, large or small. “I can⁠—”

“You’re fine.” Wyatt followed her into the room, beer in hand. “Sit down, Sarah.”

Her mom, Jen, and Grace disappeared up the stairs, Josie’s protests fading behind them, and the dining room became unnervingly quiet.

Sarah pulled out a chair and took a seat.

Caleb poured a beer, the bottleneck clinking against his glass.

Wyatt took a slow drink.

She recognized this setup. Clear the room. Isolate the target. Let the silence do the work. Nobody seemed in any hurry to fill it. Sarah almost admired the restraint.

“Saw Hudson this afternoon,” Caleb said, far too casually, examining his fork as if it had suddenly become fascinating.

Her fingers tightened on her glass. “Did you?”

“Mm.” Caleb turned the fork over thoughtfully. “Little bit... discombobulated.”

Wyatt shook his head. “That’s what we’re calling it?”

“He’s working a case, Caleb.”

“That’s probably it.” The smile Caleb had been suppressing made it halfway onto his face before he wrestled it back under control.

Sarah sipped water so she didn’t have to talk.

“He didn’t even wave.” Caleb wasn’t done. “Man’s normally sharp as a tack. Didn’t even see me.”

Both of them looked at Sarah. She met their scrutiny with the flattest expression she owned, the one she used on drunks and men who thought badges were negotiable. “I have absolutely no idea what either of you⁠—”

“Course you don’t,” Caleb said.

“None at all.”

“I’ve genuinely never seen that man distracted.” Caleb eyed the ceiling.

“Me neither,” Wyatt said.

Caleb cleared his throat. “Guy’s like a Swiss watch. Today he looked like somebody unplugged him.”

Two pairs of eyes landed on her.

Sarah picked up her water glass again and drank from it very deliberately, refusing to give either of them the satisfaction of a reaction, even as heat crept up the back of her neck with treacherous speed.

Wyatt let the silence sit a beat longer, and then his voice shifted—the teasing replaced by something quieter. “You okay?”

She met Wyatt’s gaze. Fifteen years ago he’d found her crying in this house. He’d never mentioned it again.

Sarah gave him a small smile. “I’m okay.”

Wyatt held her eyes a second longer, and something in his face eased, as if that had been the whole answer he needed.

“Good,” Caleb said. “Because you’re exhausting when you’re brooding.”

Sarah grabbed the nearest napkin and threw it at his head.