Bone Secrets 03 - Buried

would he simply have more internal scars?
    She knew absolutely nothing about her brother.
    Everyone had tiptoed around him. Were they simply enablers of his condition? Jamie had spent years learning about educating children and their behaviors, but suddenly it all went out the window when it came down to the emotions stirred up by her brother. Had they done right by Chris? First her parents and then her. Had she done the right thing by letting him dictate the limits of their relationship? Should she have pushed for him to give her more?
    “Ouch!” Michael said, jerking them to a stop and dropping her hand.
    “What?”
    “You’re about to break my hand. You’ve got a grip like a nun who likes to whip with a ruler.” He cradled it like it was broken.
    Jamie glanced at his hand. Sure enough, she’d caused the blood to blanch out of his palm.
    “I was enjoying holding your hand, but you seemed to not be focusing on the romance of the moment.”
    “Romance?”
    “Yes. You and me in this quaint little town. Walking to dinner, holding hands.”
    She tried not to roll her eyes. “I was thinking about Chris’s recovery and the situation with his son. Sorry, I wasn’t seeing the romance of the moment.”
    Green eyes gazed deep into hers. “I liked holding your hand. I can hold your hand and still look for your brother, right?”
    Jamie caught her breath and felt her heart do the tiniest flutter.
That shade of green…
    Who the heck was Michael Brody?
Jedi knight and hand-holder?
    “I like you, Jamie Jacobs. I like you a lot. And I have no problem letting you know.”
    She blinked. He was so direct. It was…refreshing.
    Michael was figuring out how to push her happy buttons in a fast way. Charmer or not, she was buying what he was selling. Something told her he was much deeper than the casual image he presented. She’d learned to look to the heart of people; it was part of her job. She could spot a bullshitter at ten yards. Michael was sending out true, clear signals of honesty.
    “When you called me after your attack, I was ready to rip someone’s head off. The thought of you being hurt didn’t sit well with me.
At all
.” Sparks lit inside his eyes.
    Oh my.
Her heart did the flutter again. Bigger this time.
    He leaned closer, running a warm hand up and down her arm. “Hungry?” His tone said nothing about food.
    “Starved,” she said. “For dinner,” she clarified.
    A slow smile stretched across Michael’s face, and he took a firm hold of her hand, leading her toward the diner.

    Michael looked around the diner. The sheriff was easy to spot by the beige uniform and cowboy hat on the table. Half the tables had patrons, and at the counter, nearly every stool was full. The diner had a tired aura, like it was working on autopilot. Takingin the dated decor, Michael figured that nothing had changed since the midseventies.
    Several people glanced over as he and Jamie stepped inside, their looks lingering a little longer than was polite, but eventually turned back to their food. Sheriff Spencer made eye contact, held it for two seconds, and then waved them over. Michael let Jamie walk ahead of him. Watching the customers, he realized Jamie in her snug shorts drew every man’s gaze, not just his own. He met the gaze of one younger man who’d discreetly watched Jamie walk by.
    Yep, she’s with me.
    Let them stare. He was the one who’d be walking out with the woman.
    Michael inwardly frowned. Well…Jamie was with him. But not in the way he wanted. Not yet. Once he set his mind to something, he succeeded. And his mind was set on Jamie. She just needed a little convincing. He was good at that.
    Sheriff Spencer was shaking Jamie’s hand, introducing himself. He reached out to Michael, and they shook. “I knew the minute you walked in the door you were the folks from Portland. We don’t get a lot of visitors through here.”
    “So we’ve found out,” Jamie commented.
    The sheriff gestured for them to sit at his table and waved the waitress over. “You hungry? The enchiladas here are incredible. The owner’s married to my receptionist and really knows his food.”
    That explained Sara’s restaurant recommendation.
    The sheriff didn’t look at all like he’d sounded on the phone. His voice was low and raspy like an older, bigger man, but he couldn’t be a day over forty or a pound over one-sixty. Thin andwiry, he looked like a runner who’d been jogging in the sun. A lot.
    Michael and Jamie both