Our Time (Baytown Boys Book 11)

by Maryann Jordan

  Our Time

  Baytown Boys

  Maryann Jordan

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  31. Book Links

  32. Author Information

  Our Time Copyright 2020

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, then you are reading an illegal pirated copy. If you would be concerned about working for no pay, then please respect the author’s work! Make sure that you are only reading a copy that has been officially released by the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by: Becky McGraw

  ISBN ebook: 978-1-947214-48-4

  ISBN print: 978-1-947214-49-1

  Created with Vellum

  Author’s Note

  Please remember that this is a work of fiction. I have lived in numerous states as well as overseas, but for the last twenty years have called Virginia my home. I often choose to use fictional city names with some geographical accuracies.

  These fictionally named cities allow me to use my creativity and not feel constricted by attempting to accurately portray the areas.

  It is my hope that my readers will allow me this creative license and understand my fictional world.

  I also do quite a bit of research on my books and try to write on subjects with accuracy. There will always be points where creative license will be used in order to create scenes or plots.

  1

  “Morning, Sheriff.”

  Colt Hudson barely walked into Joe’s Place in Easton before the greetings were called out from all directions. Maybe it was because he ate there every morning. Maybe it was because he was so easily recognized in his sheriff’s uniform. Maybe it was just because he grew up in the area and had known many of the patrons since he was a boy.

  The diner had been in the same location for fifty years, and it had looked exactly the same for as long as he could remember, with very few upgrades. Several years ago, the owners, Joe and Mavis Crouch, finally had to replace the old linoleum flooring when a few spots had worn so thin the concrete floor below could almost be seen. He vaguely remembered as a young teenager that new seats and tables and barstools had been put in, but considering he was almost thirty-five, that meant they were twenty years old.

  The light green table tops were still Formica, worn pale from cleanings. The booth seats were green vinyl, the chairs and barstools were metal with green vinyl seats. Occasionally, Mavis would use green tape to repair a split in the vinyl when needed. Any time someone suggested to Joe or Mavis that they should upgrade to new seating, they were quickly told that if Joe and Mavis had to keep buying new furniture, then they would pass that cost on to their customers.

  The customers liked getting good food at a good value, so they kept their mouths shut, sat on the repaired vinyl chairs, and enjoyed their meal.

  Colt offered a few chin lifts to some of the patrons as he walked over to the counter, smiling at one of the servers. “Morning, BettyJo.” She had been working at Joe’s Place for years, always taking the breakfast shift. Her bleached blonde hair was teased up in the front and twisted into a bun in the back. No matter how early in the morning it was, BettyJo would have her lipstick on, always matching her fingernails, usually dark red or bright pink.

  He remembered when Mavis used to make the servers wear uniforms, and BettyJo would always be in a pink or blue dress with a little black apron tied around her waist. Now, Mavis had given in to more modern times, having the servers wear blue jeans with a pink or blue blouse, a black apron still tied around their waists.

  Continuing down the counter until he came to the last stool, he hefted himself onto the seat, nodding his thanks as BettyJo set a cup of coffee in front of him. He fixed his coffee the way he liked, looked through the passageway into the kitchen, and offered a nod to Joe, who was in the back scrambling eggs and frying bacon.

  Joe had been a cook in the Navy many years ago and started Joe’s Place as soon as he got out. His bald, shiny head was easily visible, and he wore his typical uniform of a white T-shirt that used to strain across his chest but now strained a bit across his stomach. Mavis, his high school sweetheart who’d waited for him until he got home from the Navy, was at the stove stirring a pot that Colt knew would hold grits, while keeping an eye on the biscuits in the oven. Her hair was gray, but he had no idea how long it was since he never saw it down. She had worn it twisted in a bun on top of her head for as long as he could remember. Joe and Mavis ran a tight ship, but the servers who worked for them usually stayed a long time. That was a testament to the diner’s longevity and how well the owners treated their employees.

  He slowly turned on the stool, letting his gaze drift over the morning breakfast crowd, always noticing new faces, those traveling through, as well as the regulars. And, just like every morning, his gaze finally landed on what he had been seeking.

  Carrie Beaumont.

  Her arms were currently full of plates as she made her way from the kitchen to the far side of the restaurant. Greeting the patrons warmly, she sat each of the platters down, made sure everyone had what they needed and then started back through the room, checking on her tables.

  Her dark brown hair, thick and shiny, was pulled into a low ponytail, the waves hanging down her back. Her lush curves were unmistakable. Her jeans clung to her shapely ass, her blouse pulled slightly over her full breasts, and the tied apron accentuated her narrow waist.

  He continued to observe as she stopped at a corner booth, one hand resting on the back of the older man sitting alone. She bent forward and whispered something into the man’s ear, and Colt watched as his lips turned upward into a smile. Carrie took the man’s knife and fork, cutting the pancakes into smaller bites before refilling his cup with coffee. Colt knew the older man had been finishing chemo treatments and came in every day that he could for something to eat. He also knew Joe and Mavis had not been charging the man, knowing his treatments had to punish his resources. And he also knew that Carrie would never get a tip from the man but always went above and beyond to make sure he ate and was able to handle his food.

  She continued her rounds, then, as usual, her gaze moved to the last stool at the counter, landed on his, and her smile widened. And just like every morning, the sight of her blue eyes made crawling out of bed worth it. He also figured if he had those blue eyes in his bed he would never leave it.

  Squashing that thought, he watched as she headed behind
the counter, walking until she got to the end and stopped right in front of him. She leaned her elbows on the counter, propped her chin on her hands. “Good morning, Sheriff Hudson.”

  Her voice hit him in the gut every morning. A little deep. A little husky. More than a little sexy. Something else he knew he should not be thinking about.

  Colt may have grown up on the Eastern Shore of Virginia, but Carrie transplanted here while he was serving in the military. And he had noticed her the first day he was back.

  “Morning, Ms. Beaumont.”

  She planted her fist on her cocked hip. “Are you ever going to call me Carrie?”

  “Not until I know you better.” It was his standard answer, the one he had given for the past year.

  She tossed her head back and laughed, and it was not the first time he thought her smile would brighten anyone’s day, ‘cause it sure as hell brightened his.

  She winked. “I can’t wait to get to know you better then.” With that, she reached behind her to grab the coffee pot, topped him off, then headed back through the restaurant to check on the other customers.

  He wished her laughter was just for him. Same with her flirty smile and banter. And he certainly wished her wink was only for him. But no…he watched as she moved around the diner, smiling and joking as she weaved between the tables. Fuck. Never mind…I’ve got no time for anything more anyway.

  “Here you go, Sheriff.” BettyJo set a plate filled with sausage gravy and biscuits, scrambled eggs, and hashbrown potatoes. “I reckon it’s a good thing you work as hard as you do to burn through these calories or you’d be so wide you couldn’t get through the door.”

  He picked up his fork, shoveling food into his mouth, looking up only when he heard Carrie call out, “Good morning, Detective Simmons.”

  He offered another chin lift as Hunter Simmons came walking over, taking the stool next to him. Right behind Detective Simmons were a couple of Colt’s deputies. Hunter wore the easy uniform of blue jeans and a dark blue shirt, while the deputies wore the traditional uniform of khaki pants and brown shirts, their patches and deputy badges in place. He figured one of the reasons Joe liked being near the Sheriff’s Office was that with so many law enforcement personnel in his restaurant, he never had to worry about problems.

  It only took a few minutes for Carrie to get their orders and coffees poured. “Trevon, how’s that wife of yours? I haven’t seen her in here recently and didn’t know if she had had that baby yet.”

  He shook his head. “She’s due any day. Honest to God, though, she’s ready. Looks like she’s about to pop!”

  “Well, I can’t wait to see the little one, so you’ll have to let us know when she has it.” Glancing down the counter, she said, “Of course, you’ll be busy. So perhaps Sheriff Hudson will let me know.”

  “If he doesn’t, I’ll be sure to come in and give you all the updates.”

  Colt glanced up as one of his deputies, Mark Robbins, flirted with Carrie, and he rolled his eyes. As Carrie smiled at all of them, Colt felt a bolt of jealousy, tamping it down as he shoveled in more breakfast.

  “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I see Sheriff Hudson almost every day,” she replied.

  Colt swallowed a grin at her reply to Mark. Glad when she moved away to take care of a few more customers, he felt Hunter’s gaze boring into the side of his head.

  Refusing to take the bait, he heard Hunter chuckle before mumbling, “Don’t know why you don’t go for that, Colt.”

  Ignoring him, Colt continued eating before reminding the others of the staff meeting that morning. Finishing his breakfast, he threw money onto the counter, making sure to add a good tip for Carrie and BettyJo.

  Offering more chin lifts to Joe, Mavis, BettyJo, and a few of the patrons, he could not help but look for Carrie as he was walking toward the door. She came from the kitchen, delivered a plate to a table nearby, and he watched as her gaze moved to the counter where he had been sitting and then quickly jerked around toward the door.

  She walked toward him, smiled and reached to lay her hand on his arm, saying, “Have a good day, Sheriff Hudson.”

  “You too, Ms. Beaumont.” He tried not to look at her hand on him, feeling the burn of her light touch.

  Her laughter followed him as he walked outside, moving directly to his SUV. He sat in his vehicle for just a moment, easily able to see her through the windows of the diner as she made her rounds among the tables. Inwardly rolling his eyes, he started his SUV and backed out of the parking lot before anyone could catch the Sheriff pining over a woman.

  In his rearview mirror he saw Hunter, Trevon, and Mark leaving Joe’s Place, and he was glad, knowing that Mark was no longer inside flirting with Carrie.

  It only took a couple of moments to pull into his reserved parking spot in front of the North Heron Sheriff’s Office in Easton. Just a few miles north of Baytown, Easton was a tiny town of only two hundred people. But, as the county seat, many people worked there since it held all of the county government offices, including the jail for both North Heron and Accawmacke Counties.

  Energized from a full breakfast and coffee served by the one person that could make his day brighter, he headed straight to his desk, ready to get to work.

  Carrie felt his eyes still on her even after the Sheriff had walked out of the diner. As she filled the coffee mugs at one of her tables, she looked through the window and observed him staring inside, and she could have sworn he was staring at her.

  She had worked for Joe and Mavis for almost ten years, the last five of those acutely aware of the handsome new sheriff. She still remembered the first time she saw him. She had heard that a local boy who had served in the Army was moving back to the Eastern Shore and running for the Office of Sheriff.

  She had never thought much about law enforcement other than she knew to stay on the good side of it. But everybody coming into and working at Joe’s Place had been excited when he returned, saying that it was time they had new blood in the county.

  According to BettyJo, the old sheriff who was retiring had been slow to modernize the office, slow to try new techniques, and slow to do anything except just arrest a few drunks and catch speeders.

  According to Joe, the county was becoming a major drug-running area, some gang activity had been discovered, and the sheriff’s department was outdated.

  According to Mavis, the outgoing sheriff was just a ‘lazy fuck’.

  The first time Carrie had seen Colt Hudson drive up in his big, shiny SUV with the word ‘Sheriff’ emblazoned on the side, she could not help but to laugh, thinking of an old western movie where someone would say, ‘Boys, there’s a new sheriff in town.’ But, when he climbed down from the driver’s seat, her laughter had died in her throat.

  Tall, easily topping six feet four inches, with thick, black hair. She did not know what she had expected, but the musclebound man who looked as though he could make a living as a fitness model was not what she imagined a sheriff would look like.

  It was not hard to find out more about him considering the gossip mill was running full time, and he was the talk of the county. Joe, Mavis, and BettyJo remembered him as a kid. Brenda, another server, had gone to high school with him.

  Good kid, never in trouble. A star athlete with the Baytown Boys. Supposedly, he could have gotten a sports scholarship to college but left the Shore to join the Army. He was gone for twelve years, then left the Army to return five years ago to run for sheriff, which he easily won.

  For five years he had been coming into Joe’s Place most mornings for breakfast, occasionally a lunch, and rarely for dinner. And every single time, Carrie found herself honing in on him like an invisible tractor beam was pulling. They seemed such opposites, but maybe that was part of the attraction. He was stoic, and she made her living chatting up the customers, both wanting them to be happy and hoping the tips would be decent. Colt appeared to have secrets, and she figured most people knew all her business.

  It was not har
d to imagine herself a little bit in love with him, but she was a smart woman. Life had taught her self-preservation. She was not putting herself down when she knew that her feelings would be unrequited. A woman like her would just not be the right person for him. At least, that was what she figured everyone else would think. Considering he kept her at arm’s length, he must think the same thing.

  “Carrie.”

  She startled as she looked up, seeing Joe walking toward her.

  “Are you going to keep staring out the window even though he’s long gone?”

  Blushing, she threw a narrowed-eyed glare at him. “I was just checking the weather.”

  “Well, unless it’s gonna start raining men, I don’t think there’s anything out there worth looking at anymore.”

  She cocked her hip, adopting an attitude. “Did you want something, or did you just come over here to bust my chops?” Not many people would talk to Joe that way, but she knew he was gruff on the outside and a teddy bear on the inside.

  He and Mavis had taken a chance almost ten years ago on a scared twenty-year-old, giving her a job when she was desperate. Joe learned how to cook when he was in the Navy many years ago. He moved to the Eastern Shore, bought Joe’s Place from Mavis’ father who wanted to retire and had continued to sling hash ever since. Tall and wide, with a shiny bald head and a dark goatee shot with silver, he looked a little bit like a pirate.

  He glared in return. “Ellen called and said she was going to be running late today and won’t get here until just before the dinner shift. Will you be able to cover until she gets in?”