She opened the front door and found Ramsey standing there, dressed in khakis and a button-down shirt rolled up to his elbows. His hair looked in need of a cut.

“Long time no see.” Melina was really glad and shocked to see him. She had spent days telling herself she could get beyond him, but now she realized how much she had missed him. As soon as she acknowledged that, she felt a little miffed that he had not called.

A slight grin suggested he’d glimpsed all those emotions in her expression. “How’s the injury?”

“On the mend. I can return to work next week. Never thought I’d be grateful for my small office.”

“Who’s at the door?” her father called out.

She suspected her father had retrieved his weapon from the lockbox beside his chair and was preparing for an attack. God bless her old man. “It’s Agent Ramsey.”

“Bring him in!” Her dad’s voice hitched with excitement.

She stepped aside and led him back toward the den. “Be warned, we are rewatching the 1971 Super Bowl for the millionth time.”

“It’s a heartbreaker,” Ramsey said.

She groaned. “Please do not get my dad started.”

Her mother appeared from the kitchen and Elena was a half step behind. They wore matching pink aprons. Her mother’s read CHEF and Elena’s pint-size version read SOUS CHEF.

“Everything all right, Agent Ramsey?” her mother asked.

“It’s fine, ma’am,” he said. “I came to give Melina an update.” Ramsey shook hands with her father and mother and then handed a brown paper bag to Elena.

The little girl grinned and opened the bag. “Bubbles?”

“In a pink bottle,” he said.

“I love pink,” Elena said.

“I know,” he said with a wink.

Elena opened the bottle and began to blow bubbles.

“We’d all like to hear your report,” her father said.

Melina cleared her throat.

Ramsey straightened. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to give a recap to Melina first. Keep the briefing official.”

“I’m former law enforcement,” her father said.

Her mother smiled. “We can wait a few more minutes. Hank, come on in the kitchen and have a cookie.”

“I baked them!” Elena said.

“Hank, those cookies smell ready, don’t they?” her mother asked.

Her father seemed to sense he had been outnumbered and, grabbing his cane, hobbled into the kitchen after his wife and Elena.

Melina nodded toward the front door. “We can sit on the porch.”

“Sure.” They retraced their steps through the house, and he opened the front door. He closed it and then made sure she was settled on the glider. He took the seat beside her.

“When’s the last time you escorted a girl to the front porch, knowing her old man was on the other side of the door sporting a loaded weapon?”

“It’s been a while.”

“For what it’s worth, Dad likes you. So does Mom.”

“I like them.”

The nine days they had not seen each other had not diluted the absolute connection they had shared when they had worked together to bring down Edward Mecum. Agents sometimes develop a deeper bond when working a case. And more often than not, the relationships that turned romantic fizzled with the case. She feared that was going to be their fate.

“The FBI lab is processing the evidence from Mecum’s home, but given what we found, several jurisdictions will be able to close their outstanding cases.”

“That’s great.”

“You did some very solid work, Melina.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself.”

The glider squeaked as he gently moved it back and forth with his feet. “I should have called sooner.”

“Probably better you didn’t.” Still, it was nice to hear him say it. “I’ve been less than charming the last couple of weeks.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed.”

It irritated her that she had been hoping to see him each time the front doorbell rang. Phone lines worked both ways, so she could have called him. But once her brain had cleared of the painkillers, she hadn’t been sure what to say. “They finally going to kick you upstairs?” she asked. “There’s no way you can avoid a promotion after cracking this case.”

“They tried.”

Which meant he’d been in DC full time. “That’s great. Wait. Did you use the verb in past tense?”

“I resigned.”

He said it with so little emotion that it did not register. “Say again?”

“I quit. I turned in my paperwork yesterday.”

“Wow.” Never had she considered he would leave the FBI. In law enforcement circles, he was a legend.

“I’m burned out,” he said. “Time to shift gears.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“For the next few months, decompress. I’ll get back into the game at some point. I like the hunt too much to stay away. But if Nashville taught me anything, it was that I like fieldwork more than riding a desk.”

She regarded him. “Is that all you got out of Nashville?”

A slight smile quirked the edge of his lips. “No.”

“As always, your expressions are hard to read.”

“Take a guess.”

She swung for the fences. “You’re crazy about me.”

His expression still stoic, he leaned forward and, resting his hand on her shoulder, kissed her. Whatever self-pity she had nursed the last couple of weeks vanished.

She deepened the kiss, realizing how much she’d missed his touch. “Want to get out of here?”

He chuckled. “Yes, but I suspect there are three humans on the other side of that door waiting for us.”

She kissed him again. “Okay. Cookies. Crime update. And then we find a reason to go.”

The creases around his eyes deepened when he grinned. “Deal.”