Page 60 of Lucky Haven

He takes the piece of paper. Silence stretches as he examines it. “This was left for you?”

“Cash found it at the garage after he spent the evening at my apartment last night. I’ve received some…criticizing…emails at the library, but this is the first physical note. And whoever wrote it⁠—”

“It’s not Jeb.” He shakes his head. He looks through a stack of papers on his desk, then spins a folder around so she can see it. “This is his handwriting.”

From where I’m standing behind her, a protective don’t fuck with her wall, I can see that the penmanship is completely different.

Fuck.

Haven comes to the same conclusion. Her shoulders drop in disappointment. But she isn’t going to miss the opportunity here to send a message.

“Someone in your congregation thinks they are judge and jury about my choices,” she says as she reaches for the note.

Bingham pauses a beat before he reluctantly hands it back. “That’s an uncharitable accusation.”

“It’s been an incredibly uncharitable six months since I moved home. I have never spoken ill of your church.”

“You don’t attend services, either. Your absence speaks volumes about your…opinions.” His gaze flicks to me and his voice gets even harder. “As do your choices.”

“Haven chooses, at every turn, to be kind and understanding.” I say it with a calm that I learned from navigating the injustices of the legal system. There’s no point in getting mad. Mad is a protest against injustice, and a dead giveaway that you feel wronged.

That’s not a position of strength to operate from.

I put my hand on her shoulder. “I don’t make that same choice, which is why we make a good pair. It’s called balance. Keep that in mind as we continue to get to the bottom of who is threatening your niece.”

Outside, Haven keeps her lips pressed tight together in a thin line until we’re in my truck, and then she kicks her feet in frustration. “Argh, he’s ridiculous.”

“I’m sorry. I’d hoped you were onto something with getting him to look at the note.” I squeeze her shoulder, then put the truck in gear. “I’ll drop you at the library.”

“Aren’t you going to work?”

“I’ll be back. Riley’s got it covered for the morning.”

“Are you going to talk to Jeb?”

I smother a laugh. “No, but I will, any day of the week. Just say the word. I need to go out to the ranch for a bit. I want you to promise me that you won’t leave the library. And if anyone suspicious comes in, anyone at all, you’ll call me.”

“I promise.” She reaches across the console and presses her hand to my thigh.

Fuck, I like that a lot.

Focus, asshole. Now is not the time to be thinking with your dick.

“After work, I’m going to take you back to your place so you can pack up a few things, and then we’ll go out to the ranch tonight.”

“What?” She takes her hand away.

I catch her fingers and hold on tight. “I’m not taking any chances with your safety.”

“My— Cash, the last threat was for you, not me.”

“We’re one now. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the first evening I stay late at your place, someone leaves that note for me. They took a lot of care to not be recorded, too. This is someone who is watching us, watching you with disturbing closeness. You can’t stay alone anymore, and I don’t even like being in town overnight. If you want me to write it in your notebook as a relationship rule, I will. We keep each other safe.”

“What about your garage?” She turns on the seat to stare right at my profile.

I focus all of my attention on driving.

“You said that you moved back into town because of break-ins at the garage. I can’t ask you to⁠—”