by Jenn Sable
I nodded. “One Bavarian cream, an apple fritter and two glazed chocolate donuts. Got it. Anything else?” I swung my attention back to Jeremy.
Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “I never turn down vanilla-frosted donuts with sprinkles.” Then he held up two fingers and wiggled them.
I laughed. “Done. Two vanilla frosted with sprinkles.”
“This is why you can’t agree to a reassignment,” quietly sniffed Dolly as I walked past her desk on my way out of the station.
I winked at her and pushed open the door.
“He likes brunettes,” I heard Dolly say as the door closed behind me and I shook my head and chuckled. That woman knew me too well. A tight feeling pulled at my chest as I thought back to Dolly’s comment, “You’re so loved and needed right here.”
Dale’s Diner was packed, asshole to belly button, but I lucked out and walked in at the same time Ralph Sutter was throwing a few one-dollar bills down onto the table after having lunch. “Troy, she’s all yours,” he said and gestured for me to sit down.
I SLID INTO THE BOOTH and started stacking the used dishes into a pile and pushed them to the edge of the table. “Ralph, thanks. I owe you one,” I said.
He smiled. “It was divine timing, kid,” he said.
Kid. I’d been a scrawny freshman in high school during Ralph’s senior year. He’d taken one look at me the first day of football practice and plowed me into the dirt the whole damn time, then took me under his wing when I was still standing at the end of the first week. At thirty-two years old with over a decade of state police experience, it was humorous, and a little comforting, that Ralph still saw me as a kid.
He covered his shiny, bald head with a baseball cap, then slapped me on my shoulder with one of his strong brick-layer hands. “Be good,” is all he said before he turned away.
Pat, my favorite waitress, flapped her order pad in the air to get my attention from three booths down. She’s dressed appropriately for a Friday lunch rush with her orthopedic sneakers and sweat band. Her apron string was cinched tightly against her willow-thin frame, and she looked like a waitress warrior. “Troy, I’ll be there to clear and wipe that table in a minute. Boy, do I have a story for you! Hang tight I’ll have Alicia bring you some coffee.”
“No, don’t. I can wait, Patty. Take your time,” I said and scanned the diner but didn’t see any sign of Rick Probst.
I glanced back at Patty, and she was busy taking orders at a table of four. Sliding out of the booth I walked the stack of dirty dishes over to a dish bin resting on the end of the diner counter. Alicia, the young, twenty-something waitress, whose small baby bump was starting to show, silently mouthed, “thank you.” She quickly wiped the counter as a guy I’d never seen before rattled off an order with several substitutions without waiting for her to get out her pad. She gave me a look that let me know exactly what she thought of him.
“Washcloth?” asked Alicia, still not bothering to write down anything the man at the counter had ordered.
“That’d be great, thanks,” I said, and I gave her one of my charming half-smiles. It pleased me when Alicia rolled her eyes but blushed prettily anyway before throwing me a clean washcloth.
Looked like my half-smile was ready to perform tonight. It’s a good thing, too, because I hadn’t been able to get El’s sweet lips out of my mind, even in the midst of almost falling off of Everett Probst’s damn barn roof. It has been far too long since I laid in the arms of a woman and even longer since I had thrusted into the warm, wet softness of a woman. El’s picture last night had ignited a flame of desire inside me so deep that it illuminated a longing I had been denying and having her in my arms today nearly made my heart pound out of my chest.
The need to kiss and stroke and hold El had settled into the marrow of my bones. Her laughter, her gasp, and the husky voice she’d used when we were up against her kitchen counter played like loud background music in my mind, always pulling at my attention and thoughts back to her. It was Friday, my Harley was fueled up, and I had more than a few lady friends who welcomed me with open arms and legs into their beds in Axe Hollow. But the thought paled in comparison to seeing El once more and possibly getting a chance to taste her lips.
State police had some of the highest divorce rates in the country, and I’d refused to play a role in that sad statistic. So, I kept my sexual encounters casual, light, and fun with women who were looking for the same thing. However, something had shifted in me over the last several months, and I grew disinterested in one-night stands. I longed for something different, and for the first time in my life, wondered if by focusing so much on my career if I’d robbed myself of ever being able to experience true intimacy with a woman.
I slid a handwritten order of the crew’s donut order to Alicia, and she smiled and nodded then tucked it inside her apron. Turning back to my table, I blinked hard and my mouth nearly fell open when I saw a busty blonde sitting in my booth. She smiled at me like a cat who just spotted its dinner.
April. Jesus, today is like a high school reunion. April was probably pissed that she’d been texting me for over a week, and I’d only texted her back to let her know that I wasn’t interested in dinner or rekindling any old flames. It took me a second to recognize her because she clearly had gotten a boob job and possibly some silicone lip injections since I last saw her.
April Kline had been the high school girlfriend who broke my young, fool heart. I thought we’d lost our virginity together, as it turned out April had collected a few boys' virginities. I had no idea, and I’d been a bit naive and innocent-minded. Back then, not so much these days. It took me a while to learn my lesson with her, though.
April always looked like an innocent angel with her clear-blue eyes, bubblegum-pink lips, and her wide, too-friendly smile. The truth was she struggled with chronic lying and used her sex appeal to get whatever she wanted. And apparently, today, she wanted my attention in person since she wasn’t getting it through text messages.
“Trooper Witmer, I stole your booth. Are you going to arrest me?” she crooned and shimmied her shoulders. It made the swell of her high and hard breasts strain against the low neck-line of her tank that she wore under an expensive-looking red woman’s blazer. The red blazer looked to be one size too small for her; if she were to try and button it her boobs would spill out.
“Hello, April. It’s been a while. How long will you be in town visiting?” I asked, ignoring her opening remarks.
She looked a bit crestfallen over my professional demeanor but quickly recovered, pasted another smile on her face, slid over on the booth, and patted the seat beside her. I slid into the booth on the opposite side and leaned my forearms against the table and threaded my fingers together on the table.
She coyly bit her bottom lip. “It’s been a few years since we last saw one another. How did that happen? I’ve missed you. Terribly. You and your gentlemanly ways, though, you always used such maddening restraint with me. And now it looks like you’ve cultivated even more self-control since the last time I saw you. It’s probably because you're a big, bad, authority figure. I must say that you look positively edible in your uniform these days. Do you still ride out to Axe Hollow on Friday nights? I could be your partner tonight,” April said and snaked her tongue along her upper lip.
Jesus. I forgot how forward she is. I shrugged and changed the subject. “How is Howie? Are you two here visiting your uncle?” I asked, not really caring, but I didn’t want to be a total asshole by jumping straight to the point and telling her that we're never going to end up in bed again. Ever.
One, she was a married woman. Two, I have zero fucking interest in April Kline. Zero. All I really wanted to say to her was that I was meeting someone else soon, and that she needed to move along. And three, I thought El Evans had bewitched me this morning because I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
April's plastic smile faltered. “Howie and I are divorcing.”
I paused, and for the first time, looked de
eply into her eyes. I didn’t see any sadness in her blue depths, but I also don’t see any hurt, either. “Amicable separation, I take it?” I said.
She shrugged and rolled her eyes. “He knocked up a prostitute. There’s no coming back from that. His political career is over.” She picked up a fork, and for a moment, I thought she was going to bend it.
“I’m sorry,” I said and meant it.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t marry Howard Christoff for love or companionship. I married him because I thought I was going to get to live in a governor’s mansion,” she said, disappointedly.
Palms to the ceiling in surrender, she released a low, desperate-sounding laugh. “Now I'm thirty-two and brushing off a journalism degree that I never used, while I regroup,” she said and sat back and slid down a notch, looking a bit defeated.
She pressed two manicured fingers to her temple then blinked hard. It was a total change in demeanor from the sultry seductress I sat across from a few minutes ago. I almost felt bad for her. Although I wasn't a therapist, state troopers are often on the receiving end of people processing some heavy truths. I've learned over the years that what's needed from me is to sit back and listen.
April closed her eyes then continued her stream of thought. “What's sad is that we could have been the perfect couple. Not that we loved each other in the normal way most couples do, but we had the skills that complement each other and could have benefited one another. We could have led a good life together,” she choked, and it was the most real emotional response I'd ever seen from the woman in the two decades.
April shifted in her seat, looking off into the distance as though she forgot I was there. “Then that fuck-up had to go ruin my life plan with his crocked, little dick. I told him to be discreet!” She sat up and pounded one closed fist on the table, making the silverware jump. The clatter of utensils shocked her back to present, and she smiled up at me sheepishly.
“Sorry, Troy. I didn't mean for our chat to be dominated by my sob story. I honestly was hoping for something more sigh-worthy.” She tried to smile seductively, but it fell short.
I nodded and kept my gaze steady in line with hers. “It's okay, April. Sometimes you just gotta air what's on your mind,” I said, trying to balance my feelings between sympathy for her and still not wanting to get caught in her web. That was the problem once you caught someone in a few lies, you never knew when they were telling the truth.
April crossed her arms, and glanced around, looking a little uncomfortable. “Although I never formally used my journalism degree, I used my knowledge of it to launch Howie’s political career. I cared more about his damn career than he did. I would've turned him into a damn good governor too. His apathy disgusts me. He probably doesn't even care that I'm writing a book about our marriage and my total devastation over his infidelity.” Her laugh sounded bitter, and I wondered if Howie knew what dye he cast when he had married April.
“If there’s anything I can do to help,” I started to say and then stopped, immediately regretting my words.
April sat back up, and the spark of something not altogether trustworthy flashed through her baby blues.
“You could be my date to the Annual Small Business Ball at the Old Governor’s Mansion next month,” her voice is tinged with urgency. “My Uncle Matthew suggested that I attend the event. I need to get back into the social scene here in Bloombury so I can elbow my way into the Clear Creek scene. You and I attending together would be perfect. Rumor on the street is that you've made a few prominent and powerful friends from Clear Creek. Plus, you know how I love governor’s mansions, even old ones. They put me in a very, very good mood,” she said and winked.
“I can't. I work that Friday night. However, I’m sure that you’ll have plenty of gentlemen who will want to fill your dance card at the ball,” I said and smiled, actually relieved for once that I had to work a Friday night shift.
April had been back in town for a matter of a week or two and she was already neck-deep in gossip. It was a sign that she intended to stick around town for a while.
“Boo, you’re never any fun, Troy. You need to loosen up and live a little. Can’t you at least stop by, you know, to check things out and make sure we’re safe or something?” she asked.
I chuckled. “Maybe, I don’t want to make any promises that I can’t keep,” I said.
April seductively leaned forward, her breasts pressed against the table. “Say that you’ll try for me,” she said in a low, breathy voice.
“I usually swing by the event each year,” I said and took a quick scan of the diner to see Rick Probst had walked in and was looking around, probably trying to find me. I didn’t want him to see me with April and figure that I no longer needed to speak with him.
“It was great seeing you, April, but I'm here to meet someone else, and they just walked in,” I said.
“I don't see anyone. Come on, buy me a cup of coffee, and let's catch up. It's been way too long, and I want to know everything about you,” she said, still talking in a fake breathy voice that sounded so disingenuous compared to El’s husky voice that morning.
“I'm on the clock and need to speak with Rick Probst,” I said, my eyes returned to Rick, and I waved him over.
“You seriously need to lighten up. Is he even here yet?” asked April, turning in her seat to follow my line of vision and scowled.
“Yeah, Rick’s walking over. I’ll see you later April,” I said.
April leaned forward and gave me one last view of the high, hard breasts that peeked over her low neckline. “Good. Because for a moment earlier today, an Evans’ sister, the messed up middle one, was in here proclaiming something was going on between you two. I knew it had to be a lie because just the thought of you and her together is absolutely absurd.”
Chapter 5 - Eloise
The good news was that Winnie had suffered a mild cardiac arrest and, according to her cardiologist, was going to be okay after some rest, relaxation, and some lifestyle changes.
As soon as I heard, “Hello, love,” from Winnie on the phone several hours after talking with Nigel, a wellspring of relief washed over me that had me weeping with gratitude. And although Winnie was the one who’d had a heart attack, she was the one who had comforted me with words of calm encouragement.
The bad news was that all our carefully scheduled plans for our business would have to be put on hold for an indefinite period of time. Which was disastrous for our bottom line and would require me to suck it up and ask for help with the inn’s guests, delay the opening of the teahouse, and it would throw tea sales contracts into question that were signed with stores for sales distribution. All meetings were effectively canceled, and the only thing that kept pumping was tea production because we'd already ordered and paid for it.
An in essence, it was a cluster fuck.
Chloe had been a godsend, though. She had helped me pack for Paris while I did my best to hold Sammie and her twin minions at bay. She tried to bombard me with questions and insisted on joining me on my flight to Paris. I lovingly, but firmly, insisted that she continue to Elys Island, that I'd be in touch the moment I knew anything.
“Eloise, I’m your big sister! Why aren’t you allowing me to help you?” asked Sammie, sitting at the inn’s kitchen table with her fingers steepled and pressed against her forehead while Chloe was upstairs packing outfits for me.
“You are helping me,” I insisted.
She blinked. “I’m sitting here in the kitchen because you refuse to allow me into your bedroom. You refuse to let me book you a private flight on a Brocker jet. You won’t tell me anything about Winnie’s condition beyond she had a heart attack, and you won’t let me fly with you to Paris tomorrow!”
I silently counted to three before speaking. “Sammie, I love you. Don’t worry about my packing. Nigel, Winnie’s lawyer, already booked a flight for me. I told you Winnie had a heart attack because that’s all I know and you’re not flying to Paris with me tomorrow because your gre
atest help, at this moment, comes in the form of just knowing that you’re there if I need you.”
“If I need you. Are you saying that you don’t need me anymore?” asked Sammie, clearly hurt and more sensitive than normal. She picked up her cell and fired off a text that I prayed wasn’t about me, because if so, it wasn’t going to be a complimentary one.
“I’ll always need you. Just not right now,” I tried to explain and raked my fingers through my knotted curls.
She stood. “Well, if you have everything under control and know what you’re doing, then I guess I’ll just carry on with my plans to fly the twins to Elys Island.”
I stood, smiled, and started walking behind Sammie toward the front door. “Yes, thank you. It makes me feel good to know that I’m not interrupting your plans. We’ll stay in touch with one another.”
Sammie nodded. “Yes, hourly.”
I smiled. “How about every other?”
She slumped a little. “I guess.”
The front door was thrown open, and I gasped when the twins burst through headed straight for me. “Hold her down!” Sammie cried, and the traitorous twins pinned me to the wall while Sammie rushed up the front stairs, bolted into my bedroom and slammed the door shut. I heard Chloe’s surprised little yelp from downstairs.
“Oh, for crying out loud! Has everyone lost their damn minds?” I said and started pinching the twins anywhere I could reach.
“My God, she’s pinching us! Hey! Watch it, I bruise easily,” said Abby and immediately released me. Rose, surprised by her partner’s lack of resolve, was easy to overcome.
I marched up the steps with increasing determination to do things my own way. The twins trailed me and cried out to Sammie that I was coming. Pushing open the door, Sammie was going through my toiletries and undergarments that I’d already packed. Her head snapped up, and she looked at the twins.