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“Do you want some?”
“She may not have fixed enough for me.” Logan walked to the coffeepot and poured himself a cup, standing close enough to Cat that she caught the clean scent of soap and the woody tang of his aftershave.
“Didja, Mom?”
“There should be plenty for both of you.” Nerves threatened, and she conquered them by moving to the range top to check the bacon. “Why don’t you set a place at the table for him?”
“Okay.” He jumped off the chair and dashed over to the silverware drawer, then reached onto the counter instead and touched the crystal vase. “How come you’re keeping these dead flowers?”
The fork hovered a fraction of a second too long over the bacon slice before Cat moved it to the next. “They aren’t dead, just drooping a little. I put them in fresh water to revive them.”-
In control again, she glanced at Logan and saw his raised eyebrow. “They looked in need of rescuing.”
He said nothing to that and lifted the coffee cup to his mouth, watching her over the rim of it. “How did the sofa sleep?”
“It was definitely an experience.” Her smile was pure saccharine.
Amusement gleamed in that split second before he tipped the cup and took a sip of hot coffee. Silverware clattered together as Quint dug out a knife, fork, and spoon. He pushed the drawer shut, then turned a thoughtful frown on Logan.
“How come Mom slept on the sofa? I thought moms and dads slept in the same bed.”
“Not always,” Cat said quickly. “Sometimes there are reasons.”
“Like what?” Quint carried the silverware to the table.
She paused in the middle of pouring pancake batter on the hot griddle to throw her son a half-irritated glance. “Where are all these questions coming from? You never used to ask so many.”
“The sheriff says sometimes you gotta ask questions in order to get answers.”
“He said that, did he?” The batter bubbled around the edges of the first pancake as she poured the second.
“Yup.”
“In that case, you can field them from now on,” she told Logan with an acidly sweet look.
Amusement danced in his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it. You do much too fine a job of it.”
Not to be diverted, Quint asked again, “Like what, Mom?”
“Like snoring or reading in bed.” The bacon was ready to turn.
“Do you snore, Sheriff?”
Cat jumped in before Logan could answer, “Like a freight train.”
“What does that mean?” Quint frowned.
“It means he snores loud.” She flipped the pancakes, then lifted the crisp bacon out of the skillet, laying it on a plate lined with a paper towel to absorb the grease.
“Are you always gonna sleep on the sofa, Mom?”
“No.” That was an absolute. “There’s a spare bed in the attic at The Homestead. When we go back to pack our things, I’ll have the boys load it up.”
“There’s no need,” Logan said. “I planned on driving to Miles City on Saturday and pick up a bed.”
“Unless you want to experience the joy of sleeping on the sofa until then, you can save yourself the trip.” Cat took the plate of bacon to the table. “Although I will be needing a dresser to put my clothes in.”
“There’s one in the spare bedroom.” Logan pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “I’ll clean it out when I get home tonight.”
