Lanie tried to slip out of the room, but Mark didn’t budge from the doorway.

“You’re still adjusting to civilian life,” Cora said, softer now. “When you didn’t even want to be here.”

Mark let out a breath. “Mom, you’ve got to stop saying that. If the girls hear you and—”

“They’re playing outside.”

Lanie tried to become invisible, but her superpowers failed her. She moved to the far side of her L-shaped desk and looked around for something to do with herself.

“I think you’re holding back,” Cora told Mark. “Another reason I wasn’t about to let you be a part of this auction. That’s not how I want to push you back to the land of the living, though I do want you to be free to date.”

“Not happening,” Mark said firmly.

Lanie tried really hard not to let that bother her. She didn’t want to date either, so she had no idea what was wrong with her.

“You can’t just shut off that part of your life,” Cora said. “You need companionship. Eventually you’re going to want to be in a relationship—”

Lanie couldn’t quite catch Mark’s response to that, but whatever he muttered had Cora’s temper igniting.

“I know you’re not about to tell me that you have no intention of falling in love again, because I raised you to be more sensible than that,” she said.

He didn’t sigh, but he looked like he wanted to. “I’m going to do this on my own time, Mom. And not even you can rush me.”

“But you are going to eventually do it?”

His gaze flicked to Lanie. “We’re done with this conversation.”

Cora threw up her hands. “Fine. Go. They need help setting the lunch tables. I’ll be right there.”

Given the fact that she’d just ordered around the biggest alpha male Lanie had ever met, she was thinking it was pretty optimistic of Cora to expect Mark to actually go. Which was why she was surprised at the indulgent crinkle at the corners of his eyes and found herself actually floored when he turned and did as he was told.

Cora was amused when Lanie just gaped at her. “How did you do that?” she asked. “That was like magic!”

“No, honey, not magic. A man’ll do almost anything for a woman he loves, but it’s not the big gestures that mean the most. It’s the small ones, if you see what I’m saying.”

“Like setting the table.”

She smiled bright as the sun. “Yes, like the setting the table.” She took Lanie’s hand and squeezed it. “Don’t give up on him just yet.”

“Oh. Um, I think you’re mistaken because Mark and I aren’t—”

“You sure about that?”

Lanie grimaced and zipped her mouth.

Cora smiled and patted her on the arm. “You don’t owe me any explanations, honey. You’re both grown-ups.”

“Then what was that about wanting him to feel free to date . . . ?”

A smug light came into Cora’s gaze.

“Oh,” Lanie breathed. “You just wanted confirmation that he and I . . .”

Cora smiled.

“You’re brilliant,” Lanie marveled. “And a little scary.”

“I know,” Cora said.

Lanie moved to the door and then stopped and turned back. “But really, there isn’t anything going on between us, at least nothing permanent.”

“I understand. And it’s none of my business.”

No, but Lanie wanted to make sure there was no mistake. “Neither of us are in a place for it. I’m only telling you this because I don’t want to get your hopes up. In my experience, hope is the first step toward disappointment.”

“I understand,” Cora repeated gently, but she wasn’t looking discouraged in the slightest.

Lanie left, hoping that Cora was human and not some sort of a secret guardian angel who granted wishes that were made in the deep dark of the night.

Chapter 13

When someone says “Don’t be anxious” and I’m miraculously cured. Not.

Halfway through the next work week, Mark was in the middle of acting as a referee at a domestic disturbance call when he felt his personal cell phone vibrate in his pocket. Since his family knew to contact him during business hours only with an emergency, he itched to reach for it, but had to ignore it because of the trouble brewing in front of him.

The wife had made the call on her husband, saying that she’d married an abusive asshole and needed help extracting him from her house. The husband had called immediately after, claiming that his soon-to-be ex-wife was threatening his manhood and life.

Mark had gotten on the scene to find the man had locked himself in the bathroom and the wife was pounding on the door with one hand, her other holding a lethal-looking spike stiletto heel.

He’d taken the “weapon” from her and made her sit on the couch in the living room in plain sight while he turned to the still-locked bathroom. Before he could say a word, the wife got in plenty.

“Come out of there, you no-good, pussy-addicted, lint-licking, soul-sucking piece of shit!” she yelled from her perch on the couch. “I’m going to stab you in the nads with your ho’s shoe! Get out here and take it like a man!”

“I called the cops on you, you crazy bitch!” the husband yelled through the door. “I’m not coming out until I’ve got an armed protector.”

The wife shook her head at Mark as if to say, Do you see what I’m dealing with? “The cop is here, you idiot,” she snapped. “I let him in.”

The bathroom door cracked open. A bleary, red-rimmed eye peeked out and focused in on Mark, taking in his uniform. “You armed?”

“Yes,” Mark said.

“Thank God.” The husband opened the door the rest of the way and pointed at his wife. “She’s completely gonzo. I want her hauled off to jail and locked away.”

The wife crossed her arms. “You’re the one who cheated, you dipshit. And there’s only one chick I know who owns these ridiculous knock-offs and that’s our crack-ho of a neighbor with the store-bought knockers. I’m going to kill you both.”

Mark grimaced. “If you don’t want to be arrested, you’re going to have to stop threatening him.”

“Well, then he’s going to have to stop being stupid, and I don’t see either of those things happening.”

In the end, Mark had the husband leave the home, which belonged to the wife’s family. The guy left for a friend’s house, his parting shot to his wife that he’d see her in court.

Fine by Mark. Better in court than in the morgue.

When he was back in his patrol Blazer, he pulled out his phone. The call he’d received earlier had come from the girls’ school. Specifically from the principal. This wasn’t a complete shock. Samantha didn’t like her teacher, and when Samantha didn’t like someone, the whole world paid the price. Twice he’d been called in when she’d gone missing—aka hidden in a tree on the playground after recess had ended—simply because she hadn’t wanted to go back to her classroom.

He hit the number for the school and got the principal’s assistant.