Page 55 of Hawkeye

“Okay, but I think I just found my new best friend, so be prepared for me to play matchmaker soon,” I teased. “She bakes the most delicious desserts and has a fiery personality to balance that sweetness.”

Calder glanced over his shoulder with a grin. “Not sure Smoke’ll be happy if you try to match her up with anyone.”

“Just so long as he doesn’t interfere with me getting baked goods,” I mumbled.

“Don’t worry, baby doll,” he assured me. “My club brothers have been around enough pregnant women lately to know better than to get between one of you and a craving.”

EPILOGUE

HAWKEYE

The tracks began as two shallow marks in the dry ground behind our house, but Clara had already learned not to stop at the first thing she saw. She crouched beside me with both hands braced on her knees, thick chestnut waves escaping the enamel clip Josie had fastened into her hair that morning. Her eyes carried my muted green around the edges and her mother’s amber near the center, although the deep dimple appearing beside her mouth belonged entirely to Josie.

“What made those?” I asked.

Clara leaned closer until one curl fell across her face. “A rabbit.”

“Where was it going?”

She followed the marks to the flattened grass beneath a scrub oak. “Under there because something scared it.”

“What?”

Clara looked over her shoulder at me, her small face settling into the same expression Josie wore when I expected her to answer a question with incomplete information. “I don’t know, Daddy. I wasn’t here.”

“Fair answer.” I shifted onto one knee and indicated the bent stem beside the track. “One print tells you something stood here. The rest tells you where it went, how fast it moved, and what changed because it passed through.”

Clara nodded with the solemn concentration she usually reserved for damaged clocks in Josie’s workshop. “Mama says old things do that too. You have to look at all the marks because they tell the story.”

My father had taught me the same lesson using boot impressions, smoke, and disturbed ground. Josie taught it with scarred wood, worn brass, and letters softened by a hundred hands. Our daughter had combined both methods before she turned four and currently believed every rabbit track deserved a complete investigation.

My phone vibrated inside my jacket.

Josie

Bring my two favorite trackers to the workshop. I finally finished it.

Clara bounced to her feet when I told her we were going into town. She talked through the entire walk back to the house, explaining that Mama had been hiding something beneath a gray cloth and would not let her peek even after Clara promised to look with only one eye. By the time I buckled her into the truck, I knew the covered object was taller than she was and contained at least one photograph. I had required Josie to threaten her mother with temporary banishment from the workshop for attempting an early inspection.

The studio behind the boutique looked nothing like the neglected room Josie had shown me years ago. Her grandfather’s scarred workbench remained at the center, surrounded by modern task lighting, secure archival cabinets, repaired clock drawers, and padded stations built precisely to her height. The brass hook beside the connecting door held her restoration apron and the old lady vest carrying my name, while the framed certificates above her desk confirmed the apprenticeship she once worried would never end had become a respected specialty of her own.

Josie stood beneath one of the task lights. Four years of marriage had done nothing to dull my reaction to her full breasts, defined waist, rounded hips, or plush mouth. And the sight of her stomach once more round with my child had my cock hardening.

Our daughter raced past me to wrap herself around Josie’s legs. “Mama, I found a rabbit track, and Daddy expected me to know what scared it even though I wasn’t there.”

“That’s because Daddy believes answers improve when he makes you work for them.” Josie bent to kiss the top of her head, then looked at me over our daughter’s curls. “He does it to me too.”

“You usually enjoy the follow-up questions,” I reminded her as I crossed the workshop.

Warm color spread over her cheeks because she understood exactly what I meant. Clara had already turned her attention to a small clock on the nearest padded station, sparing Josie the need to explain why her husband’s comment made her blush. She placed both palms beside the clock and whispered, “Don’t worry. Mama’s very good at fixing things.”

Josie’s expression softened as she watched her. “Are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready since you borrowed my father’s things three months ago.”

Her brows lifted. “You knew?”

“You removed his search-and-rescue radio, compass, photograph, and one of the original maps from my study.” I settled one hand at her waist and let my thumb move over the apron tie. “I noticed.”