LITMIR.BIZ

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than necessary and went in through the garage.

       The air inside was heavy with tanning acids and pickling baths. Big and small game mounting forms and kits covered the walls.

       Hatch used the connecting door into the workshop.

       Will Stewart looked up from painting the finishing touches on a squirrel. “Was wondering if we’d see you tonight.”

       “Said I’d try and stop by.” Granted, he didn’t get to town that often and had been vague about the time when he’d spoken with Stew yesterday, but it wasn’t even five o’clock.

       “I told Mia she shouldn’t believe everything she hears.” Stew shoved aside the lighted magnifying glass he used for detail work. Wiping his hands on his apron, he got up from the stool. “There’s a rumor going around town that you got married.”

       “Is that Hatch?”

       Before he could even digest that bit of information about the rumor mill, Mia, with little Alex on her hip, was dragging him into a hug as close as the boy and the baby bump would allow. It was good to see her happy again.

       “It’s true, isn’t it?” Stepping back, she looked him over as if to confirm it.

       “She’s in the truck,” he admitted.

       “Dammit!” Stew got out his wallet and handed his wife a dollar bill. “You couldn’t pick up a phone and call your best friend since second grade?” he muttered as he headed for the door. “I’m going to get the trophy head and introduce myself to your trophy wife.”

       Stew stopped in the doorway, shaking his head. “Twenty? Seriously, Hatch. Is that even legal? But it’s better than hearing you married a Marine.”

       “She’s not a Marine yet,” he qualified. “But we did get married just so she could join.”

       “Yeah, right.” Stew was laughing as he left.

       “I’d better go run interference,” Hatch said to Mia.

       She adjusted little Alex on her hip. “Your wife is in the store.”

      THE SHOWROOM WAS PACKED floor to ceiling with wall-mounted and freestanding displays. Slowly, Angela turned to absorb it all. She did a double take when Hatch appeared beneath a moose head mounted above an archway.

       A pregnant woman carrying a toddler entered behind him. According to their marriage license application, he’d never been married.

       But Angela hadn’t asked him about a significant other.

       “Quite the menagerie you have here.” She hoped that hadn’t come across quite as awkward as it sounded.

       “Welcome to my world,” the woman said, a smile playing at the corner of her generous mouth as she stepped onto the showroom floor. “I’m Mia Stewart, and this is my son, Alex.”

       “Hi, Alex.” Angela zeroed in on the dark-haired, blue-eyed child. “I have a little boy at home about your age.” The tot buried his face in his mother’s shoulder and then turned to peek again at Angela from beneath spiky lashes. He was a heartbreaker, all right.

       “You must be the bride we’ve heard talk about.” Mia paused expectantly.

       Angela glanced at Hatch. How was she supposed to respond to that? Surely he didn’t want people calling her his bride, when future ex-wife was more appropriate. How much simpler if they’d been able to keep the marriage a secret.

       “Angela Adams,” she said, introducing herself to the other woman.

       Or as the other woman?

       She hoped she wasn’t creating a headache for him.

       Chimes rang as a chubby guy in a paint-stained apron entered through the front door. They all pivoted toward him.

       “Couldn’t find her—” He spotted Angela and stopped. “Hello.” He turned accusing eyes on Hatch as he approached her.

       “Will Stewart,” he said in introduction. “If you’re Hatch’s bride, then why wasn’t I his best man? And how come he never mentioned you?”

       Angela really didn’t know how to answer that. Because we just met?

       “No, seriously. How come?”

       “I’d love to hear the story,” Mia said. “You’re welcome to join us for dinner.” She grabbed the baby monitor from the counter.

       Hatch checked his watch. “My aunt’s expecting us.”

       “Some other time, then,” Mia offered. “Angela, it was nice meeting you. Hatch has our number. Maybe we can get the boys together for a play date. And by boys I mean the four of them, so we can have time for some girl talk. I know all his secrets, dating back to high school.”

       Will pointed at himself. “Second grade,” he bragged in a stage whisper.

       “Afraid Angela’s headed back to Denver tonight,” Hatch said. “We’ve got to get going. I’ll be dropping off the meat as soon as it’s cured.”

       “You’re not leaving without your eye, are you?” his friend demanded.

       “I’ll stop by next week sometime.”

       “It’s ready now,” Will insisted. “Won’t take but a minute for me to get it.”

       “You sell prosthetic eyes?” Angela studied the animals on display. In particular the glass eyes, which were incredibly realistic. “For humans?”

       “For Hatch.” Will chuckled.

       “Will’s a third-generation glassblower,” Mia bragged, while bouncing the fourth generation on her hip. Alex didn’t look much like his dad. But he looked more like a combination of his mom and dad than he did Hatch. That was a relief. Maybe he would grow up to be a glassblowing taxidermist. “Eyes are his specialty.”

       “But I thought prosthetic eyes were made of silicone.” Angela looked to Hatch. He might not be an expert, but he had to know a little something about it.

       “Silicone is more durable,” Will said. “But you can’t beat glass for appearances. Wait here?” he asked Hatch.

       He nodded, but didn’t look pleased.

       Folding her arms, Angela looked around, following Will and Mia with her gaze as they walked off. “Which is more comfortable?”

       “You did not just ask me that,” he said.

       “Sorry.” She shifted her eyes back to him. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. What are you wearing right now?”

       “Why does this conversation remind me of a dirty phone call?”

       Now that she knew he had a sense of humor, she could appreciate the subtlety of it. “So you wear nothing under that patch?”

       “Didn’t you ever hear curiosity killed the cat?” He inclined his head toward a stuffed mountain lion. Or so she thought, until she saw the domesticated kitty curled up near the lion’s paw.

       To her relief the kitty got up and stretched.

       “It’s not like I asked you how you lost your eye. I mean, that would be rude, wouldn’t it? And I just assumed…” She looked down at her feet. “Because you were a Navy SEAL, it was a battlefield injury.”

       “Silicone,” he said. “An empty socket isn’t all that comfortable. I caught a piece of shrapnel in the eye.”

       “So why do you need the patch?”

       “It’s practical.” He didn’t elaborate.

       Will returned with a hinged case about the size of one for glasses, which he handed to Hatch. Angela got a peek inside when he opened it. She couldn’t believe the fine detail Will had achieved in

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