Free Montana Hero by Debra Salonen

over hours ago.
    She put a lid on the pot of chili she’d thrown together after Brady’s session with Serena James. Kat liked her a great deal, but Serena’s unguarded comments about “Austen this”, “Mia that”, and “Paul and Bailey’s new baby” made Kat’s head feel ready to explode.
    She had no intention of approaching the Zabrinski family with her unproven theory. The thought made her a little ill. She could picture what would happen if she dropped the “bastard” bomb in the center of this close-knit, extremely religious family.
    “No. Not happening,” she muttered, wiping her hands on a towel as she checked on Brady on the way to the door.
    Their two-bedroom apartment included a small alcove the rental agent called a study. Since neither she nor Brady were into television, she’d turned the area into a library, with a hodgepodge of bookshelves she’d bought at yard sales and spray-painted bright, some might say “garish” colors. Brady occupied his giant beanbag, headphones in place and iPad in hand.
    He hadn’t said much since their meeting with the principal and Ms. James. She knew from experience he needed time to fit all the pieces of what happened in a composite that made sense to him. Tomorrow or the next day, he’d probably hand her a drawing or a poem or short story that summarized this experience for him.
    Then, they’d talk.
    She checked the peephole and her pulse sped up as she quickly opened the door.
    “Hi. What are you doing here?” she asked her boss.
    Flynn held up her bulky winter jacket—the one she’d meant to grab on her way out of the office and the cloth tote she often joked carried her life. “If I’m hit by a car on the way home from work, promise you’ll bury this with me. No peeking,” she’d told her co-workers from Day One.
    “Rebecca was going to deliver these on her way home, but her husband’s car broke down north of town. Since your place is on my way…”
    His smile looked a little uncomfortable.
    She understood. They were still feeling their way as boss and employee, and privacy issues were on everyone’s mind these days after Ken Morrison’s Peeping Tom habits came to light.
    The reminder sent a shiver down her spine. She was tempted to grab her things from his hands and close the door, but the old-fashioned ringtone emanating from his pocket made her hesitate. She took her jacket to free up his hand to answer the call.
    He turned slightly and held out her bag, which she knew from lugging the stupid thing around every day wasn’t that light. Talk about a brick you-know-what, she thought. She was used to being around cops and SAR volunteers, but very few took physical training as seriously as this guy.
    Flynn was solid muscle. A very nice sort of big.
    “Flynn here. Yes. Sorry I missed your call earlier. Are we still on? Great. Ten minutes, then. I have the address.”
    He pocketed the phone. Only a few inches separated them. His fresh, outdoorsy scent mixed with that certain man smell sent her olfactory senses on high alert. It had been a long time since she’d been held in a man-woman way. Too long. But he wasn’t the right man and she definitely wasn’t the right woman.
    She stepped back and nearly tripped when the sole of her sloppy boot caught on the entry rug. “Damn. I took these from my mom’s stuff, and she was half a size bigger than me. If I break my neck, feel free to remind me that I tend to go cheap at the wrong times.”
    His smile did that light-up-the-hallway thing. She refused to credit him with lighting up the whole room. And now that she knew he had another appointment she didn’t have to worry about whether or not to invite him in.
    “Thanks for delivering these. I appreciate it. I’m sorry I had to ask for time off your first week on the job, but I plan to use the time to work on grant applications. Does that sound okay?” Since Flynn hadn’t returned to the office when Kat called to request the rest of the week