Page 22 of Secrets Hidden In The Glass

“Sure.”

She picked up the frame, studying the photograph of his family. “That must be your sister, Gwen.”

He leaned closer to take a look. “Sure is. Gwen’s a year older and a total girly-girl,” he said with affection. “She and her husband, Liam, live over at Carter House most of the time, but they have an apartment in Boston too. Liam’s in sales, so he’s gone a lot. Gwen hangs out with him in the city when she can—does a lot of her job on the computer and via Skype when she’s away from her office here at the bank. They’re expecting their first baby in January.”

Callie smiled. “Does she know what she’s having?”

He shook his head. “They want to be surprised.”

“That’s sweet.” She gave her attention back to the picture. “You all look so similar—like your mom.”

He shrugged. “Strong genes. Molly’s a bit of an anomaly, though, with that dark hair and olive skin of hers. Sometimes I wonder where my mother was the night she was conceived.”

Callie’s gaze flew to his.

He grinned. “I’m kidding. We have a couple of Italian grandmothers somewhere in the gene pool.”

“Ah.” She put the frame back. “Your family seems close.”

He nodded. “Yeah, we’re pretty tight. All three of us kids like it when our parents come home for the summers.”

She picked up the picture of him and Brad holding the huge tuna they’d caught a couple years ago. “This must be your friend, Brad.”

He nodded, touching his temple. “Good guess.”

“Do you get to see him often?”

“Not as often as I’d like, but he comes home when he can—holidays and a couple of weekends here and there. He and Molly are good buddies too.” He reached into the closet and pulled a Carter County Sheriff hoodie off of a hanger. “How about this?”

She turned. “Thanks.” She put the photograph back then slid on the sweatshirt, the hem hanging almost as low as her dress.

He nodded his approval, liking the way she wore his clothes. “Looks good.”

She smiled, rolling the sleeves to her wrists. “I’ll happily sacrifice style for warmth. I’ll get it back to you tomorrow.”

“There’s no rush.”

“Thanks.” She glanced around again, her gaze wandering to his gun and handcuffs. “So, what happens if someone has to go to jail in this tiny town?”

“I put them in a cell.”

Her eyes widened. “You have jail cells here?”

“Two in back. Are you interested in occupying one?”

She shook her head. “I think I’ll pass. How often do you use them?”

He leaned back against the cabinet and crossed his arms. “In the summer, they see some action—typically D&Ds. On a rare occasion, they’re used off-season too.”

“I’m not sure what that is—D&Ds.”

“Drunk and disorderlies. They come in and sleep it off, I write them a citation to appear in our magistrate’s court, and we go our separate ways.”

She wrinkled her nose. “What if it’s more serious?”

“It happens.” He crossed his ankles, getting comfortable while Callie picked his brain. “They get to be my guests until we can transport them to the jail over on the mainland.”

“So if someone has to sleep here, you must have to sleep here too.”