She ran into me at full speed and broke her own damn nose.”
“Want me to go open the saloon for you?” Ty asked.
Grady nodded and fished his keys out of his pocket. He tossed them at Ty. “I’ll be there soon.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Laurel said as Ty rode off. “My nose isn’t really broken. It’s just bleeding. I can clean myself up in my car.”
“How do you know it’s not broken?”
She shrugged. She was a tall woman, but narrow. Narrow shoulders, narrow hips. Her hair always pulled back in a bouncy brown ponytail. Her face always devoid of makeup. Her body always covered up. The complete opposite of his type.
Which was why he’d never quite understood why his gaze tended to linger on her when they happened to be in the same vicinity, or why he got such a kick out of pissing her the hell off, and always had, since she’d been a girl hanging around his sister back before Vanessa had decided Delaneys were evil incarnate.
But one thing he did know and always had known—no matter how fragile Laurel Delaney could look on the outside, she was as tough as nails when it came down to it.
“I’ve had my nose broken before,” she retorted. “I know what it feels like.”
“You?”
“Yes, me.” She glared at him, all piss and vinegar and a special brand of spitfire unique to her. “Meth-head head-butted me once.”
“A meth-head head-butted you and your father let you stay in police work?”
“You don’t know what I did to the meth-head in return.”
Hell. Bloodthirsty was such a turn-on, even on a Delaney. Maybe especially on one. “Come inside so we can wash you up before you slink back to wherever you hid your car.”
“I did not hide my car.”
Grady raised an eyebrow at her and she returned his look with an arch one of her own.
“I parked it down the hill so I could have a nice, head-clearing walk.” She smiled sweetly.
“Sure.” Grady pushed the front door open and led her into the kitchen. “Sit.” He pointed to a barstool situated under the kitchen counter.
He grabbed a washcloth and ran it under some warm water before walking around to her.
“I can clean it myself,” she said, holding her hand out for the cloth.
Instead he did what he knew would piss her off. He gripped her chin and held her head still as he used the washcloth to wipe away the blood.
She sat there regally, not sniping at him or pushing him away, and he had to fight back a smile over the fact she had changed tactics with him.
He wiped the blood from her nose and where it had dripped down her chin. She was fair-skinned and her nose was faintly freckled. While most Delaneys reveled in the finer things, the more genteel side of life, and her elegant face sure fit all that, Laurel had never been one for elegance and pretty things.
“You sure it’s not broken?” he asked, and he was close enough that the hair hanging around her face stirred.
“I’m sure.” She stared at him with those golden-brown eyes and there wasn’t an ounce of animosity hiding there. He couldn’t help that his gaze dropped to her unpainted mouth.
Laurel had always been easy to resist, not because he’d never found her attractive, but because it only ever took him opening his mouth to rile her up enough to have her walk away. But she wasn’t bristling like she usually did, and he figured that was all kinds of dangerous.
“I’m not out to get you,” she said as sincerely as she’d ever said anything to him.
Her sincerity was good enough to break this particular spell. “You’ll have to pardon my lack of belief, considering how many times your father has tried to get Rightful Claim shut down.” He stepped away and tossed the cloth in the sink. He crossed his arms across his chest and frowned intimidatingly down at her.
“That doesn’t have anything to do with me. Should I blame you for everything your father’s ever done? Because I hear it’s quite a list.”
He wouldn’t admit she had a fair point.
“Work with me, Grady,” she implored, speaking to him for once like he was a person instead of a Carson. “For your brother’s sake. For Bent’s sake. Put everything that came before behind us for the sake of this case and this case alone. If Clint is innocent, I don’t want to be the one who puts him away for murder. I don’t want a real murderer to get away with something because of feud crap.”
“Haven’t you ever heard the old saying that those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it?”
“Well, I don’t think there’s any chance of me falling in love with you and dying in some army-led Native American massacre, or you and all the Carsons going off to war and eradicating an entire generation. So we might just make it. Did I cover all the idiotic Delaney-Carson fairy tales?”
His mouth curved. “I don’t know, the illegitimate Carson who married a Delaney as payback always struck my fancy.”
“That poor woman died in childbirth.”
“And thus the waters between Carson and Delaney never commingled.”
“You’re terrible.”
“Don’t you forget it, princess.”
The door squeaked open and Noah entered, slapping his cowboy hat against his thigh so that dust puffed up. “Must have had some help. That boy isn’t anywhere out there.”
“I need a list of friends, places he might have gone, that sort of thing,” Laurel said in her demanding cop way that got Grady’s back up like few other things.
But she’d implored him to help, and while helping a Delaney was the first and biggest thing on his Don’t Ever Do list, this was about Clint. It was about Bent. Much as he might enjoy the feud tales and riling up the Delaneys, he didn’t actually want any trouble in town. Trouble wasn’t good for business, and as much as he would never admit to anyone, a little too hard on his heart.
He loved the town like he loved his brother. He loved his saloon like he loved the graves of every Carson before him. He might not have sworn to protect this place like Laurel had, but he had the sneaking suspicion they both wanted the same thing.
Damn it all.
“Your best bets are Pauline Hugh or Fred Gaskill,” Grady offered.
Laurel hopped off the barstool. “Hugh, Gaskill. Got it. And if he comes back here, call me. Or bring him to me. I only need to question him. The longer he runs, the worse this looks. Please let him know that.”
Grady nodded and Noah did, too, and then Laurel was striding out of the house.
“So, we’re working with a Delaney,” Noah said as if he didn’t quite believe it.
“That Delaney and that Delaney only. And only until we get a handle on what Clint’s involvement is and how much we need to protect him.”
Noah made one of his many noncommittal sounds that Grady usually found funny, but he wasn’t much in a mood to find anything funny today. “What’s that grunt supposed to mean?”
“Oh, nothing. You just seemed awfully cozy with Deputy Delaney there.”
“At least I wasn’t blushing in front of her.”
Noah bristled. “I was not blushing.”
“Just don’t get any hooking up ideas of your own.” Which was the wrong thing to say. It was beyond irritating, since he always knew the right thing to say, or when to keep his mouth shut. Grady never gave too much away.