“Long time ago.”

“Motive for murder?”

Max burst out laughing and rolled again so we were on our sides but he came up with his elbow in the bed and his head in his hand and I moved to my back so I could look up at him.

“Harry wouldn’t hurt a fly, doesn’t have it in him. He’s never even been huntin’, doesn’t own a gun, far’s I know,” Max told me. “His folks left him a trust fund but he still opened his own lumber store, does all right for himself on top of that stash. And even if he would go after Curt, he’d never go after Bitsy, not even threaten it.”

“Oh.”

He grinned. “Though, few months, I wouldn’t be surprised to see him standin’ on her front step, carrying flowers.”

I liked this idea so I smiled.

Max’s eyes drifted over my face and then his head dipped close.

“That answer your question?” he asked quietly, I nodded and Max moved on to a different subject. “So what are we gonna do today?”

I thought staying in bed watching movies (or doing other things) held merit but I didn’t suggest that.

Instead, I said, “I vote no brawls.”

He grinned before he suggested, “I thought I’d take you out shootin’.”

“Shooting?”

“Teach you to use a gun.”

I closed my eyes, my eyebrows went up then slowly I opened them. “A gun?”

“Yeah, you’re in a house with one, you should know how to use it.”

“How about I just ignore its existence?”

“How about you wrap up warm and I take you out and teach you how to shoot?”

“Um…”

His face dipped even closer. “Baby, guns are dangerous in the hands of people who don’t know how to use them and people who do who mean for them to be dangerous.”

“But –”

“I’m out on a job, you’re here by yourself, it’ll make me feel better you know where the gun is, how to get to it and how to use it.”

“Out on a job?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you mean, out on a job?”

“I work contract, take three month jobs, sometimes six. Sometimes I take jobs and work fourteen hour days, six days a week, three months on, one month off. Builds. Mostly in state, sometimes out. Thought you knew that.”

“Well, kind of, but –”

“So, I’m gone, you’re here, I’ll –”

I cut him off. “Fourteen hour days?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that even legal?”

“When they pay you a shitload to do it, yeah.”

I pointed out what I thought was the obvious, “But, that’s insane.”

“You get used to it.”

I didn’t like that he worked fourteen hour days that was a brutal schedule. I also didn’t like the idea of him being gone for three months straight, sometimes six. That would be brutal for me.

However, the current subject was a golden opportunity and I thought if I was careful, I could use it to suggest helping out financially.

So being cautious, I waded in. “Um, Max, after awhile, if I move in –”

Then I stopped talking when I realized I hadn’t been cautious enough and I hadn’t even gotten to the meat of the matter.

I knew this because his eyes narrowed dangerously and he cut me off. “After awhile?”

“Well, yes, I thought once I moved here I’d get an apartment in town, maybe a condo –”

“Those go on year leases,” he informed me.

“Well, okay.”

“You ain’t stayin’ in town a year.”

“I’m not?”

“Fuck no.”

“Where am I staying?”

“Here.”

My eyes got wide again and I stared at him.

Then I asked, “Here?”

“Yeah.”

“But I can’t move here.”

“Why the hell not?”

I blinked at him, uncertain how to answer for the answer should be obvious. And that answer was, I couldn’t move in here because we’d known each other a week.

Max kept talking. “I’m outta town, babe, I get back, I want you in my bed not in a bed in a condo in town.”

“Max –”

“And bein’ apart for months, I’m not wastin’ more time waitin’ for you to drive up the mountain or wastin’ gas drivin’ down to you when you should be here in the first place.”

“Max –”

“Or f**kin’ you in your bed one night, mine the other.”

“Max –”

“Draggin’ clothes everywhere.”

“Max!” I said loudly to get his attention.

“What?”

“What about your rentals?”

“You live here, Duchess, I pull it off the rental market.”

I blinked again then started to ask, “But what about –?”

“That’s the reason I can’t keep the land Curt gave me, losin’ the rental income makes it tough, standard of living changes.”

I stopped breathing at this news.

Then I asked, “Could you keep it if you didn’t lose the rental income?”

“Yeah, but you’re movin’ here, I’m losin’ the rental income.”

Suddenly my day brightened and to brighten Max’s I shared, “So I can help.”

It was evident Max’s day didn’t brighten; I knew this because his face darkened. “No, you can’t.”

I put my hand to his jaw, my heart getting lighter. “If I move in, I can’t live here and not contribute.”

“Yeah, babe, you can.”

I blinked again, my heart going right back to heavy as I grew confused and I asked, “What?”

“Things aren’t tight, they’re good, more than comfortable, solid. And they can stay good, we can live a nice life, we contain the acreage. That rental income means I already paid off the build on this place, got no mortgage, just taxes, utilities and I pay those.”

“But –”

“Not up for discussion.”

“But –”

“You use your money for your fancy clothes and you can plant flowers and buy shit for the kitchen.”