“Somebody’s keeping an eye on you, boss.”

Just as she’d tolerated having a teenager hand her a fresh ice pack every hour or so and remind her to take a break and ice her shoulder.

She wasn’t an idiot, Darby assured herself, and she was perfectly capable of doing her job and being pissy while still appreciating the concern.

Now the workday done, her crew gone, she prepared herself to tolerate Zane’s fussing over her.

So she walked over to the table, picked up his Coke, gulped some down. “You know, you didn’t have to stick around and sit out here. I already had Gabe and Ralph on my case about doctor’s orders.”

“Uh-huh.” He finished up a last email. “Actually, I was enjoying an afternoon working at home and outside while surrounded by the landscape my lady created. A nice change of pace for me.”

He lifted a chin toward the progress of the water feature. “Coming right along.”

“It is. And if you go away, go to work the rest of the week like you’re supposed to, you should see the finished product by end of the day Saturday. Barring rain delays.”

“Yeah? That’s great because I’m figuring, if you’re pretty much done with the works by the end of the month, I’m going to throw a big, bust-out Fourth of July party.”

“Really?”

“We’ll have a hell of a view of the fireworks on the lake from up here.”

“Hmm.” After tipping down her sunglasses, she narrowed her eyes on his face. “You look like a man in a pretty good mood.”

“I’d say that’s accurate.”

“And unexpected.”

“I’m in a good enough mood to fire up the grill in a bit. Interested?”

No fussing, she concluded, and didn’t know quite what to think about it, or his good mood.

“I could be. I’ll grab a shower.”

She walked inside, then nearly straight back out again. “Are you opening a sideline flower shop out of your kitchen?”

“What? Oh.” Shaking his head, laughing, he got to his feet. “Slipped my mind. They’re for you.”

“For me? Walker, there has to be seven or eight dozen flowers in there.”

“I couldn’t decide, so I got a bunch. And the vases,” he added as they walked back in. “I thought about sticking them in vases, but then I decided you’d do a better job of it.”

“Well.” She searched for a word, settled on “Wow.”

“I didn’t get a card because I didn’t think they made one that covered all of it. Like thanks, I’m sorry, heal up soon, maybe a congratulations thrown in there. And the overall important you matter. You matter, Darby.”

“Wow” didn’t measure up, she realized, to what he made her feel at that moment. The words, the way he looked at her, the glory of scent and color surrounding them.

“I’m really dirty, but too bad.” She went to him, wrapped around him, and hoped what she felt in that moment came through the kiss.

“This is ridiculously beautiful, Zane. Insanely thoughtful.” Before stepping back, she pressed her hands to his cheeks. “I’m going to have the best time arranging all these.”

“We can have some champagne while you do.”

She blinked. “Champagne.”

“I picked up a couple bottles.” He got one out of the fridge, started to open it. “I didn’t think to ask if you liked champagne.”

“I’d be crazy not to. Zane, where did you go when you left here this morning?”

“We’ll talk about it.” He opened the bottle with a cheerful, muffled pop. “Meanwhile, open this.”

He handed her a small, wrapped box, then pulled out champagne flutes.

Overwhelmed, even a little anxious, she stared at the box. “Zane, I’ve got a few bruises. For all this I should be in a coma.”

“If you were, you couldn’t drink champagne. Open it. If you don’t like it, I’ll keep it myself because it made me think of you.”

Anxiety didn’t erase curiosity, so she pulled the ribbon, ripped the paper. And had to smile when she opened the box to a book-shaped charm on a chain with its flowing script quote.

“‘Though she be but little, she is fierce.’”

Holding it up so it dangled in the light, she looked at him. “I’m five-seven. That’s not so little.”

“Comparatively. And God knows the ‘fierce’ works.”

“Well, I love it, so you don’t get to keep it for yourself.” She slipped the chain over her head. “Now I might start milking every bump and scrape I get on the job to see what I can get out of it.”

He didn’t smile. “This was personal.”

“Okay. Why don’t we sit outside and drink this fancy wine, and you can tell me why you left here angry and upset, and came back in a damn good mood.”

“We’ll do that, get it done. Then I’m going to fire up that grill while you do something with these flowers.”

He sat out with her, dived right in because he wanted this part of their evening opened and closed. “You know I talked to Britt this morning, then I went to talk to Emily—and I’m going to round back to that. Then I drove into Asheville to see Graham.”

“I figured you would.”

“He looks like he did ten rounds with the champ, which he did. Pair of black eyes, broken nose. They wired his jaw. Can’t say I saw his balls, but I’m told they’re busted up pretty good. Don’t look distressed. Don’t.”

“I’ve never hit anybody, hurt anybody like that. It’s different in training. Even that time with Trent, it wasn’t like this.”

Zane reached over, tugged down the shoulder of her T-shirt to expose the bruising. “Do you think he’d have stopped there?”

“No. I know I did what I had to do.”

“Lee let me sit in while he interviewed him in the hospital. They tracked down his motel room, found his car. There’s evidence, plenty of it, on what he planned to do. And eventually, like I knew he would, he couldn’t stand me being in there. Couldn’t stand me just sitting there, looking at him, and all that hate, that rage, took over.”

He told her, not softening any of it, just cutting through to the meat.

“He confessed.” Shocked, appalled, Darby gripped her hands together under the table. “To killing his wife, to coming here to try to kill you.”

“I want to say he changed since I saw him last, but it’s not really true.” He picked up the ball, studied it, turned it in his hand. “I think prison and life after it stripped away the veneer. He isn’t able to polish himself up, to hide behind that layer now. What he is, it’s just there.”

It helped to sit here with her, smelling flowers, feeling the air while he emptied himself of the day.

He set the ball down again.

“Lee got the preliminary report on Eliza about an hour ago. Graham had the cause of death right. Subdural hematoma, resulting from the blow to the head. She had fresh bruises, old bruises. I expect they’ll plead it down to man one before it’s finished.”

“But—”

Zane waved a finger. “Due to the circumstances, the pattern, the evidence, he’ll get twenty years for it. Add in the aggravated assault and battery on you, breaking probation, and so on, his past history with violence, he won’t get out again. He’ll die in prison.”

Pausing, he looked out at what was his, what she’d made of his, the blooming where he’d never have thought to put it, the young trees, the pots spilling with color.

“I never confronted him after that night. I was the one in the hospital then, in cuffs then. After, I testified in court, but I didn’t confront him face-to-face. I did that today, for myself. For Britt and Emily. For my grandparents. For you.

“And I realized, when I walked away, that it’s over—and it hadn’t been, because I had it buried inside me all this time. Now I don’t. I ripped it out, like … a poisonous plant, root and all. It’s gone.”

“It took courage to do what you did.”

“He couldn’t touch me.”

“Not physically. Emotional wounds run deeper, we both know it. It took courage, and smarts. Serious smarts there, Walker. You knew just what to do to push him. I bet you were a hell of a prosecutor.”

“I wasn’t bad.” He flashed a grin. “Not bad at all. Now let’s round back, end this on a high note. Emily’s going to be fine. It’s rough on her, and my grandparents, but we’ll get through it. Britt, too, because they’re all—we’re all—going to be focused on something good and positive. Britt’s pregnant.”

“She’s— That’s great!” With a quick chair dance, Darby lifted her glass, tapped it to his. “The best of the best kind of news. When’s she due?”

“I don’t know. It’s really new. She wasn’t going to announce it yet, then figured she would. She’s good at knowing how to balance things out.”

“I’ll say. You should’ve taken her flowers.”

“You’re right. I’ll do it tomorrow. You can deal with yours, get your shower, ice your shoulder. I’ll deal with dinner. And we’ll get seriously buzzed on champagne.”

“I can get behind that plan.” She reached over for his hand. “The day may have started on a really shitty note, but we’re going to end it happy, well-fed, and a little bit drunk.”

* * *