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*

“Thought you could use a decent coffee.”

The mug — and a Styrofoam container — appeared with his voice. “Cinnamon bun just came out of the oven.”

Ronan stood in front of her, freshly showered. He smelled … good. Clean soap, something faintly spicy.

And then there was the cinnamon — warm, sweet, curling up from the box in his hand.

Before she could formulate a reply, he set the coffee and container on her desk and dropped into the chair beside it like he belonged there.

Felicity blinked at him.

At the coffee. The box.

Him.

He thought of her. Cared enough to buy her coffee and a pastry.

“What’s the story with the boys?” he asked.

Right. That’s why he’s here. The boys he’d helped apprehend.

She gathered herself, straightening slightly. “A dare,” she said. “Three pairs of them filming the vandalism for some kind of social media prank.”

“Wow.” He leaned back a fraction. “I’m all for a good dare, but…”

She shrugged. “Summer holidays. Boredom. Small town.”

“I get going for a joyride, sure,” he said, shaking his head. “But this? This is something else. What will happen to them?”

“That’s up to the homeowners. Sheriff Stirling’s out paying the other two sets of parents a visit. Mr. O’Neil’s already offered to cover the damages.”

His gaze slid back to her. “You ever joyride, Felicity?”

A dark night from years ago flickered through her mind.

Not a road she wanted to go down.

Instead, she lobbed her own question — the one that had been needling at her since the scene. “Why were you out at that hour?”

A shadow crossed his face. “On my way back from Texas. Caught a red-eye from Austin.”

That was not the answer she anticipated. “Texas?”

“I … visited Violet. Her grave.” He exhaled slowly. “Yesterday was our anniversary. Would’ve been twenty years.”

“Twenty. Wow. You … married young.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed a hand over his chest, grimacing faintly. “She was my high school sweetheart.”

His lips curved into a crooked, almost sheepish grin. “My first — and only — woman.” He glanced at her. “Until you.”

Felicity didn’t know what to do with that.

“Murphy,” Mercer drawled as he walked in. “Heard you gift-wrapped the culprits for our esteemed deputy.”

Ronan scowled. “Right place, right time.” He pushed to his feet, knocking lightly on the desk as he stood. “Gotta get to work.” His eyes flicked to Felicity. “Take care, Deputy.”