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“Yeah, I have dinner plans.”
“You dating someone?” He raises a brow.
“Elsie’s daughter.”
“Wow, you’ve lost your mind,” he mutters, and I laugh as I say goodbye to him and the rest of the guys, then stop by Mike’s office to let him know I’m leaving and fill him in on the conversation I had with the Millers.
By the time I get out to my truck, I’m already running late for dinner, so instead of running home to change, I head out of town.
It takes me ten minutes to make it to Genevieve’s parents’ house, and as I park my truck in the driveway, the front door opens and Storm bounds out right before Genevieve steps outside. Smiling when her gaze connects with mine through the windshield, she walks down the steps, then skips my way as I get out of my truck.
“Hey.” She stops just out of reach, and I shake my head. Reaching out, I grab her by the belt loop of her jeans and tug her forward, dropping my mouth to hers.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“It’s okay.” She studies me as I bend to give Storm some attention. “How was work?”
“All right. Busy.”
“I’m sure it was.” Her face softens as we start to make our way inside. “Were Romey’s foster parents able to come in to talk to you?”
“They were. I filled them in on what’s going on, and I got some information that I need to look into after dinner.”
“Everyone would have understood if you said you couldn’t make it tonight.”
“I appreciate that, baby, but as you’ve found out, there are lots of times I get called away, so when I have the opportunity to be present, I want you to know I’ll show up.”
“You better stop talking before I start making out with you on my parents’ porch.” She leans into me with a smile, and I laugh while swinging open the screen door.
“Wyatt.” Elsie greets me with a bright smile while her gaze pings between Genevieve and me. “Did you get my message about polling numbers?”
“I did.”
“Things are looking good.”
“It looks that way.” I lean down to kiss her cheek, then slip off my coat and dump it on the pile that is already taking up the back of the couch.
“Everyone is already at the table,” Genevieve tells me, leading me toward the dining room while her mom walks ahead of us.
After greeting Genevieve’s dad, her brothers, and Anna, we take a seat. There is food already on the table: a ham, mashed potatoes, salad, and biscuits—a meal reminiscent of a Thanksgiving but the normal spread when I’ve come for dinner.
“Do you want a beer?” Gunner asks, getting up from the table.
“I’m good with water.”
“Are you going back to work?” Kolter asks.
“I hope not, but I need to do some work later,” I tell him, accepting the bowl of mashed potatoes from Genevieve.
“It kinda sucks that you’re never really off the clock,” Anna murmurs.
“And it will probably get worse when you’re sheriff,” Kolter adds.
“It might for a while as we all adjust to the change, but Mike is normally the last person to be called in if he’s off the clock, and then it’s only if there is something major that has gone down and we need his insight. We have a good crew, and everyone is pretty self-sufficient.”
“That’s good,” Anna says quietly, glancing at Genevieve. It makes me wonder if she’s talked to her about me getting called out more than once when we’ve been together.
“Honestly, it doesn’t matter if he gets called in on his time off if he’s okay with it, and with Storm being one of the only search and rescue dogs in the area, it makes sense that he might need to be available when other people aren’t,” Genevieve says, sliding two pieces of ham onto my plate while I stare at her. Okay, I guess that answers if she’s been upset about me getting called into work. “What?” She looks over at me.
