Violet didn’t like the feeling of jealousy blossoming inside her. Not because Marcus had shared the details of their relationship with another woman, but because Violet hadn’t been able to do the same. Her mother had insisted that they needed to keep the whole thing quiet so that it didn’t affect her senate reelection bid. The only other person who’d known was her dad, but he had a tendency to revert to baseball jargon during emotionally vulnerable moments. And nobody wanted to hear “Sometimes you hit a few foul balls before you get that grand slam” after a bad breakup.
Marcus rubbed the back of his neck as he continued, “Brie asked if I wanted to keep in contact while I was at AIT and assured me that she wasn’t interested in some sort of rebound fling. I guess she thought I seemed like I could use a friend. Mostly we just followed each other on social media and would text every once in a while. Then, when I went on deployment, she started sending me care packages and little notes and funny cards. I never really stopped thinking about you, but talking to Brie helped keep my mind off what I’d lost. When my four years was up, I came back to Wyoming. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to fall in love again after you, but she won me over. Being with her just seemed...easy.”
Of course it was easy. Brie didn’t have a famous mother trying to keep them physically and emotionally separated. Violet glanced at the headstone, then asked, “Do the twins get to see her family often?”
“Actually, she was raised by her grandparents. Her grandma passed away right after high school, and her grandpa moved into an assisted-living place out in Cheyenne before we started dating.”
“Oh, that must’ve been hard for her. To feel so alone at such a young age.”
Marcus nodded. “Probably, but Brie never showed it. She was one of those glass-half-full kind of people. Always had a smile on her face, never said anything bad about anyone. My mom joked that she would’ve been the perfect politician’s wife, but Brie never had those kinds of ambitions. Which was good, because I didn’t, either. She seemed happy being married to a small-town cop and loved being a mom.”
Violet heard the quiet part out loud. Brie didn’t bring along the baggage of an interfering family. Unlike Violet, who had a controlling mother and who—in Marcus’s mind at the time—had chosen her career over their children.
He’d fallen in love with Violet’s exact opposite. She’d seen a few framed pictures of Brie and Marcus back at the main house, and even appearance wise, the women had completely different coloring and dressed very differently. A shiver of rejection made its way down Violet’s spine.
“I really am sorry for your loss, Marcus. That must’ve been so hard on you and the boys.” She bit her lip. “They must really miss their mom.”
His jaw was rigid as he gave a stiff nod.
“And again, I’m sorry for interrupting your visit.”
“More like a therapy session.” He lifted his face to the sun before shrugging. “I’d been avoiding this place for years before my dad died. In fact, I was dreading his funeral for this very reason. I hated the reminder of what I’d lost. What my sons had lost. But that day at the graveside service, I saw her headstone without so much as a flower on it, and it made me realize that I shouldn’t have allowed my hurt to keep me away. Since you’ve gotten here... I don’t know how to explain it, but it just felt like I should be filling her in on everything going on. The boys, MJ, you. She was a good wife and mother, but more than anything else, she was always a great listener. A great partner.”
Violet inhaled deeply, unsure of this raw emotion gnawing at something inside of her. It wasn’t quite jealousy, despite the fact that she clearly would never be able to fill Brie’s shoes when it came to being a loving mother or a doting wife—not that anyone was trying to compete with the memory of a dead woman. Nor was it the implication that Violet’s sudden appearance had reopened all of Marcus’s old wounds and talking to Brie was again the one thing that seemed to bring him any sort of comfort.
Rather, hearing about Marcus’s wife and how much he’d loved her made Violet feel more remorse than anything else. Like she was causing him to be disloyal in some way to Brie. She never would have kissed him knowing he wasn’t ready to move on.
She glanced at the freshly turned earth of Roper King’s gravesite. There were two flower arrangements which were too fresh to have been leftover from the funeral weeks ago. There was also a collection of little trinkets lined up along the granite ledge, such as a set of gold pilot wings, a thirty-year sobriety chip and a small US flag in a weighted stand.
But the item that caught her attention was a freshly cut log leaning against the headstone with RKx2 carved into the bark. Perhaps Rider had simply stopped by to visit his brother. Or maybe it was another sign from Marcus’s father. It didn’t matter, though. There was no way she was going to talk to him about MJ right now. In fact, maybe she’d misread the earlier signs, and Roper King was actually trying to tell her to return to the main house and give his son space.
“Can I give you a ride back down the hill?” Marcus asked.
“No, thanks.” She forced a polite smile. “I still need to finish my run.”
Marcus had his own demons and hardships he needed to face without her chiming in with her two cents every time they disagreed. It was becoming increasingly clear that it wasn’t Violet’s place to be his voice of reason. She’d forfeited that opportunity to another woman long ago.
* * *
“You’re not staying for dinner?” Aunt Freckles asked Marcus the following Friday evening when he dropped off the twins at the main house for the weekly meal that was becoming a bit too frequent. It was also a bit too tension-filled—even by King standards—now that peacekeeping Duke had returned to duty on his aircraft carrier.
“Nah. I’m covering a shift for one of my deputies who needed the night off.”
“What a coincidence.” Freckles pursed her coral-painted lips. “Violet won’t be here for dinner, either.”
“Where’s she going?” Marcus asked more suspiciously than he’d intended.
“I didn’t ask, seeing as how she’s a grown woman and it’s not my business.” Freckles challenged Marcus with an impish grin.
“Is that your way of telling me that it’s not my business, either?”
“Of course it’s his business,” Sherilee King said sarcastically as she came striding into the kitchen. “Didn’t you hear, Freckles? My son is the sheriff of the whole entire county and thinks he’s in charge of everything and everyone in his jurisdiction.”
Marcus didn’t give his mother the satisfaction of rolling his eyes. He was not going to engage in the same old argument that neither of them would win.
“Now, Sherilee, don’t give the boy such a hard time for doing his job.”
“Thank you, Aunt Freckles.” Finally someone was on his side.
But before he could relish in his triumph, Freckles pointed an oven mitt in his direction. “And you don’t give your mama a hard time for doing her job and protecting her babies.”
“You mean baby, singular,” Marcus corrected. “Only one of her young cubs is getting the full mama-bear protection, and it certainly isn’t me.”
“Oh, I’m protecting you, Marcus.” His mother reached for the hunk of cheddar Freckles had been shredding for her baked macaroni and cheese casserole. His mom only ate dairy products when she was stressed. Or when she was annoyed. Or when she thought no one was watching. She chewed before adding, “You’re just too stubborn to see it.”
“You’re protecting me?” Marcus snorted. “How? By undermining my job and my role in the community? Or by installing my ex-girlfriend in our family home to argue with me at every turn?”
“You think I’m enjoying all the increased tension around here?” His mom slapped a manicured hand on the counter. “Every time I turn around, you’re squabbling with Violet, or Freckles is bickering with Rider. Even my sweet
Duke was getting testy on some secret phone call before he left. And then there’s troublemaking Finn egging everyone on like she’s an announcer at the state rodeo. My husband—the love of my life—just died, yet my home is filled with so much damn chaos and shouting I can’t even hear myself think.”
“You eat any more of my cheese, Sherilee, and you’re going to have plenty of time alone to think. In the bathroom.” Freckles took the wedge of decimated cheddar away from her sister-in-law. “Besides, Rider and I don’t bicker. We engage in verbal wrestling, which isn’t nearly as fun as our mattress wrestling—”
“Really, Freckles?” His mom thankfully interrupted his aunt. “Do you have to be so graphic all the time?”
“Stop being such a prude, Sher. You have six kids, so it’s not like you didn’t have a little fun in your marriage, too.”
“Yeah, but I’m not going around bragging about it to the whole damn world.”
“Give it a rest, you two!” Marcus suddenly went from defending himself to refereeing a forty-year dispute between the biggest verbal combatants in the entire King family. He lifted his brow at his mother. “And you accuse everyone else of arguing?”
“This isn’t an argument,” his mom countered. “This is a discussion. Right, Freckles?”
“Yep. Just a little conversation to clear the air.”
“Oh, so now you guys decide to agree?” This time, Marcus did give in and rolled his eyes. “To gang up on me?”
“We’re not ganging up on you, darlin’.” Freckles tsked. “We’re demonstrating healthy dialogue. Showing you there’s nothing wrong with voicing your feelings and concerns.”
“I talk about my feelings,” he said, thinking of his trip to the cemetery the other day. It was the second visit he’d made to see Brie since his father’s funeral, which was incredible progress considering he previously hadn’t been there in over five years.
This time, his mother was the one rolling her eyes. “Perhaps you should try talking to someone who is alive, Marcus. Someone who will actually give you the advice you don’t think you need.”
“Ouch,” Freckles said as she tossed some shredded cheese into a simmering pot. “That was harsh, Sherilee. True. But harsh. No wonder the kids get so frustrated with you.”
“Oh, so now you’re the expert on my children?” His mother and aunt continued their so-called healthy dialogue with such intensity they didn’t seem to notice Marcus slipping out the back door.
His head was throbbing, his stomach was buzzing with hunger, and now he was working a night shift to avoid having dinner with a woman who wasn’t even going to be there, anyway.
No. He wasn’t avoiding Violet. He was just... Hell. He didn’t know what he was doing. Marcus stared at his tired reflection in his rearview mirror. Talking to Brie had always used to make him feel better, but maybe his mom was right. There was a difference between venting and actually receiving feedback.
He’d told Violet that Brie had been a great listener, which was true. But his wife had also never talked about what was bothering her. She avoided conflict whenever possible and rarely challenged him with a differing opinion. Or told him something he hadn’t wanted to hear. Being with Brie had been almost too easy at times. Too simple.
Yet nothing was simple anymore.
He’d always used to talk to Violet when they were younger, but it might be too late to go back to being friends now. Especially after their recent kisses proved that he couldn’t keep his hands to himself whenever he was around her. That left his only options as fighting with her or avoiding her.
Unless she was avoiding him first.
Why wasn’t she having dinner with his family tonight? He pulled out his phone to text her before realizing he didn’t have her number.
Before he could give it another thought, a call came over his handheld radio. “Be advised we have reports of an altercation taking place at Teton Ridge High School.”
It could be worse, he told himself as he drove toward the highway. Nothing could top last year when the varsity basketball team was in the playoffs and Marcus had to arrest his former math teacher for streaking across the court during the fourth quarter wearing nothing but blue and gold body paint.
Then the radio crackled to life again and the dispatcher added, “Make that two altercations. And some possible vandalism. All units, please respond.”
Crap. Marcus switched on his siren before advising dispatch he was en route. At least this was a public-disturbance call that didn’t involve anyone from his family.
* * *
If Violet had to sit through one more antagonistic family meal with Marcus, she’d probably scream loud enough to shatter the crystal chandelier in the formal dining room of the main house. Last Friday, Connor Remington, the new owner of one of the neighboring ranches, had come to dinner and had spent the whole evening exchanging flirtatious glances with Dahlia. But the only glances Violet received across the table that night were seething glares from Marcus, who had just found out that she’d filed a motion for discovery to have his department’s Breathalyzer tested for accuracy. Apparently, he didn’t appreciate the insinuation that his equipment wasn’t maintained properly.
Not that Violet was an entirely innocent party when it came to their petty bickering. She’d known the Breathalyzer results were likely accurate because MJ had admitted to her that he’d had quite a bit to drink before getting arrested. Still, she wouldn’t be doing her job if she didn’t pursue every possible avenue of defense. Besides, if she was too busy fighting with Marcus, then she didn’t have time to think about how damn attractive he always looked in his sheriff’s uniform.
At least that had been her initial strategy dealing with her ex-boyfriend who was making her feel all sorts of things she probably shouldn’t.
Now, though, her strategy was to escape him altogether by hiding out in an overheated and overcrowded high-school gymnasium, watching a high-stakes basketball game she had absolutely zero interest in.
She couldn’t even claim that she was only there hoping to find some character witnesses for MJ’s case. When Roper King had become vice president, MJ had been forced to move to Washington, DC, and attend a private school, where he hadn’t exactly excelled.
No, Violet had come to the game because the only thing to do on a cold Friday night in Teton Ridge was to get a drink at Big Millie’s or go to a high-school sporting event. And since she’d already been to the saloon, she’d thought she’d give basketball a try. Plus, she might run into Reed Nakamoto or Judge Calhoun at the game, which would hopefully give them the impression that she wasn’t a total outsider from the big city.
It wasn’t until halftime that Violet finally saw Judge Calhoun. She was behind him in line at the concession stand, and one of the parents wearing a Fling Rock High School sweatshirt dropped a tray of nachos on the judge’s brand-new white high-top sneakers. Some heated words were exchanged, and the next thing Violet knew, punches were flying and she and another woman were pulling the judge from a brawl he’d caused by his overreaction to a few accidental drops of nacho cheese.
Several other parents stepped in to break up the fight, but the sound of approaching sirens could already be heard from the parking lot. The small concession area of the gym filled as the bleachers cleared and everyone came to see what was going on. There was a lot of finger-pointing over who’d thrown the first punch, and eventually Violet found her way to a nearby bench to try to wipe off the ketchup that had gotten all over her suede boot when someone lost their hot dog in the altercation.
“That’s the woman who saw everything go down, Sheriff,” Violet heard a woman say, and her stomach dropped.
No, she thought to herself, refusing to look up so her eyes wouldn’t confirm what her gut was already telling her. He wasn’t supposed to be on duty. He was supposed to be having dinner at the Twin Kings. But when she saw the black utility boots appro
ach her, Violet knew exactly whose legs would be attached to them.
Marcus.
“Oh, hey,” Violet said a little too nonchalantly. She crumpled the red-stained napkins in her hand as she stood to meet him.
“Are you bleeding?” he asked, concern evident in his blue eyes as he searched her face for injuries. Her heart did a little flip. She liked this compassionate and nonaccusatory version of Marcus.
“No. It’s just ketchup. The lady in line behind me got drenched with orange soda, so I’ll consider myself lucky.”
Marcus scrubbed at the lower half of his face, but not before she saw the grin he was trying to hold back. When he got his expression under control, he said, “I wish you’d told me that you were coming to the game tonight. I would’ve warned you to avoid the concession stand and the restrooms during halftime.”
“The restrooms, too, huh?”
“Oh, yeah. People take their high-school games pretty seriously around here. Broman is currently dealing with the fight in the ladies’ room, and I’ve got two other deputies searching for some seniors in the parking lot who were letting the air out of the tires on any car with a Fling Rock bumper sticker.”
“Well, kids can pull stupid pranks when school pride is on the line.”
“No, not seniors in high school. Senior citizens.” Marcus bit his lower lip, probably to keep himself from joining Violet as she snorted with repressed laughter. He was the sheriff and had to maintain at least the image of being in control of an otherwise chaotic situation. “I knew I shouldn’t have volunteered to cover this shift tonight.”
So she’d been right, and he wasn’t supposed to be on duty. Not that she was trying to keep track of his schedule. “At least you can’t blame me for adding to your troubles this time.”
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