by Maisey Yates
“I’m sure,” she bit out.
“You know,” he said. “Since you mentioned it. I could really use a beer.”
“I did not...mention that.”
“Oh, didn’t you?”
She narrowed her eyes, then stepped into the house, and he heard the front door slam. For some reason, he was sure that she would reappear with a beer, and be mad about it.
She was the strangest woman he had ever met. Constantly irritated at him for one slight or another and yet... She wasn’t avoiding him. Not really. And she wasn’t mean to him. And in fact, just as he had expected, she returned not long later with a beer in her hand. She stood down below, holding it aloft. “I’m not climbing up there with a beer in my hand. And, if you get drunk and fall off my roof I will not be held responsible.”
“A beer is not going to get me drunk,” he called down.
“I don’t know how many you had prior to this one.”
He chuckled, then put his hammer down and made his way down the ladder. He walked over to where she was standing, her dark eyes gone round and somewhat glazed.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
“Why do you keep asking me that?”
“Maybe because you always look at me like I’m a problem.”
Her breath hitched, like whatever she’d been about to say had gotten caught in her throat. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then opened it again. “Then quit being one.”
He snatched the beer—which she had already opened—out of her hand.
He took a swig of the beer, then considered Pansy for a moment. “How serious is a police department liable to take a missing persons report for a fifteen-year-old boy?”
She blinked. “What?”
“Just curious.”
She cleared her throat. “I guess it depends on the circumstances.”
“Great. So, probably not at all.”
“What’s going on?”
“My half brother is missing. My mom’s kid. I mean, she doesn’t think he’s missing, that’s the thing. He’s fifteen, and he hasn’t been home for weeks, and I found out today that she never reported it.”
“Oh,” Pansy said.
“I reported it,” he said. “I called the department out in Linn County. But I have no idea if they’re going to take me seriously, or if they’re just going to assume that he’s a troubled kid who went walkabout.”
“I can’t say,” she said. “I would take it seriously. I take it very seriously when someone from the community goes missing. Whether they have a pattern of being a runaway or not. But...not every police officer is like that. We’re just people. Some are better than others. Some are better at evaluating situations without prejudice. And some...some just care more.”
“So what you’re telling me is there’s no way of knowing what they’ll do.”
“Well, if he’s not presumed endangered...”
“No. I don’t suppose he is.”
“Does he not have a good relationship with your mom?”
“I don’t really know. He’s got...the relationship that you can have with her. She’s not...maternal. Not really. And that’s fine. I mean, I turned out all right. I figured it out. Life’s tough, but I stumbled my way through it. Made some mistakes. But if I could keep Emmett from having some of the same issues I did, I would. As soon as I divorced Monica I would have taken him in, but you know, then I was in prison. And when I got out... Mom was real cagey about his whereabouts. And then she finally admitted to me she didn’t know where he was. She said he came home occasionally for food. Lately he hasn’t been home at all.”
“And Child Services never intervened?”
“They never did for me either. Like you said. The problem with everything is that it’s run by people. And that means if you get the wrong person you fall through the cracks real easy. Emmett and I...we fell through cracks. That’s just the way of it.”
“Well, give me all the information about your brother. I know... Look, there’s not a lot I can do here. Linn County’s a few hours away. But if I hear any chatter, if anyone shows up matching his description and I see it I swear I’ll let you know.”
“Why do you want to help me?” Standing there with the cold beer in his hand, and Pansy looking up at him with concern, he genuinely did want to know. She didn’t like him much, and yet, she was pledging to offer extra help on something that wasn’t her responsibility.
But then, he had told her about it because something in him had known that she would, and he didn’t know why he had known that, only that he did.
“Family is everything,” she said. “Family is what keeps you standing. Believe me.”
“That’s not my experience of family.”
“You’re doing that for your brother. You’re not forgetting about him, you’re not letting him go. I guess... Even if there isn’t anyone to do that for you it’s a good thing when you can do it for someone else. Family gets made all kinds of ways. Not just being raised together. Not just being blood. When my parents... When my parents died, you know my aunt and uncle died along with them. And so did my mom’s best friend. She was a single mom, one child. Logan. We grew up with him. He’s like a brother to me. Just as much as Ryder. And Jake and Colt are my cousins but they might as well be brothers too. We had to come together. We had to depend on each other. And we did. Family is what you make it. And what you do when times are tough.”
He nodded slowly. “Well, I’m doing my best to find out what family can mean.”
“Right. Connecting with the Daltons.”
“And McKenna. She’s a Dodge now.”
“I know,” Pansy said. “McKenna and Grant were a pretty hot topic of town gossip.”
“Is that so?”
“Oh yes. Grant’s wife died nearly ten years ago and everyone in town was pretty invested in him. Then McKenna showed up and... She changed him. She saved his life. I’m convinced of that. I mean, he was always going to live, but I think that was just surviving. Breathing. She made him alive.”
“That’s nice,” he said.
His half sister definitely seemed to have a great relationship with her husband even if it was one that kind of mystified him. Grant seemed like a pretty sincere guy, while McKenna was sharp, witty and a little bit spiky, which was why he liked her so much.
McKenna was like him. She had grown up on the outside of any real family. Though, she had made it into foster care when he hadn’t. He needed to make sure he spent more time with her. He had a feeling the two of them could relate.
“Thank you,” she said. “For fixing my roof.”
“Not a problem,” he said, taking another long sip of beer.
She was staring and it took him a moment to realize that she was watching him drink the beer. That she was staring at his mouth. And as he lowered the bottle, her eyes went down too, until they landed in the center of his chest.
They settled there for a moment, then bounced back up, a look of extreme embarrassment behind them.
Interesting.
In spite of himself, he felt the look of interest burn through his body, igniting his blood.
He didn’t want to be interested in her. He didn’t want an entanglement, and Pansy Daniels had entanglement written all over her. She was complicated. And if ever there was something he didn’t want, it was complicated.
Sex could be simple. Relationships he discovered could come with claws and snarls and brambles he had never even considered. He was not doing a relationship again.
Sometimes he wondered what the hell he had been thinking.
Marriage had been a foreign concept to him. His mother had never been married. He had never seen that kind of household. That kind of life.
And when he had met Monica—all pretty and blonde and soft—he had thought she was the kind of woman who would make the sor
t of household that he’d never gotten to be a part of before.
He’d had a whole fantasy of suburban life—upper-class suburban life, but suburban life nonetheless—and it had all been wrapped up in her.
He hadn’t been in love with her so much as he had been taken with the idea of claiming a life that had seemed beyond him.
And it had turned out that it was.
No. When he wanted sex, he would get himself a one-night stand. Go to the next town over. He was not going to get himself involved with a local. And he was sure as hell not going to get himself involved with a local who also lived on his property and happened to be a police officer.
Who had a great many brothers and surrogate brothers who would probably take him to task in painful and unpleasant ways.
No thank you.
A lot of women were pretty. And a whole lot of women would look at his chest if they were standing there right now.
She wasn’t special.
He took another swig of beer.
“Can I help you with something?” he asked.
Her cheeks went pink. “No. Just... The roof. Thank you.”
“No problem.” He handed her the empty beer bottle, and their fingertips brushed together, like they had done last night when they had exchanged food and drink. Damn. Her skin burned.
“Great,” she said. “Thanks again.”
She walked almost self-consciously steadily into the house, leaving him standing outside. The breath rushed out of his lungs in a gust.
Until that moment he hadn’t been aware that he’d been holding it in.
She was still annoying. It didn’t matter that she had said that she would help with his brother. It didn’t change the fact that she was an irritation and a complication.
And he was only here to fix her roof. Nothing more.
CHAPTER SIX
PANSY CHECKED HER reflection in the bathroom mirror again. She was waiting for her interview at City Hall to start. The first of multiple panel interviews she was going to have with the selection committee. Her hair was neat, her uniform was perfect.
And she felt off balance.
She had felt off balance since she had come home to find West Caldwell shirtless on her roof.
And then, he had come down from the roof shirtless. And she... Suddenly all of her jittery feelings when he was around made a lot of really irritating sense.
Her sisters had been right.
She thought he was attractive.
Somehow, her mind had been able to ignore the fact that he had broad shoulders and big muscles while he had been wearing a T-shirt. Her body had internalized it for sure, but her brain had blocked it out.
But when he had come down that ladder in all his half naked glory, the muscles on his back moving and shifting with each motion, it had all sort of fit together.
She had been prepared to be frosty to him, something, anything to combat the foreign, riotous attraction that was moving through her body, and then he had told her about his brother.
Everything in her had gone soft. Like it had been melted by the scorching heat of his body, and also by his...humanity.
Because as he was standing there looking like a god of cowboy mythology—if such a thing existed—he had also exhibited something more vulnerable and sympathetic than he had before.
He cared about his brother. He was worried about his brother.
And she had a soft spot for brothers like him.
Who cared enough to shift their lives around to make sure their siblings were taken care of.
Because her whole life had depended on that. On her brother Ryder being the way that he was. The kind of man who gave up his dreams, his independence, to make sure his younger siblings could have a stable life.
If not for him... They could have been separated in foster care. Moved around. They would’ve had to leave Hope Springs Ranch.
She wiggled, shaking her hands out. She didn’t need to go thinking about him now. She had too much adrenaline coursing through her system as it was. She didn’t do entanglements.
She didn’t do...men.
Well, she liked men. It was just that she didn’t have any experience with them. Somewhat by design. Though, that was getting to the point where it was a little bit silly. But it was one of those things that had just gotten away from her.
Because when you were raised by your overprotective older brother dating was difficult. And then when you became the youngest police officer the city had, and also the only woman, it got even more complicated, and all she had wanted was to be taken seriously.
She certainly didn’t need to go pulling over a former boyfriend or hookup. And now it was one of those things that she had just left a little bit too long.
But not this. You’re not going to leave being police chief too long.
Yes. And that mattered a whole lot more than her...
Her situation.
A situation that felt exacerbated by West Caldwell’s body.
She gritted her teeth and put it out of her mind as she walked out of the bathroom and headed down the hallway toward the room where they would be doing the interview.
She knew that it would be a panel of four people including the city manager, the mayor and a couple of council members.
When she walked in, she felt like she’d been hit with a brick, because of course the city council member that was present was Barbara Niedermayer.
And she knew she should feel sorry for Barbara.
For all the reasons Iris had said.
But Rose’s words were the ones that replayed in her mind over and over.
She’s mean.
“Hi,” Pansy said, moving over to the table and taking her seat across from the panel. “Nice to see you all.”
“You too, Officer Daniels,” said Jeb, the city manager.
“I’m ready,” she said.
Whether she meant for the interview to start or for the police chief job, she wasn’t entirely sure. But both were true, so it didn’t really matter which.
“Any progress on my missing wallet?”
Pansy gritted her teeth. “Not as yet,” she said. “But no one has tried to use any of the credit cards. Or produced your ID anywhere. It’s all flagged, so if it happens we’ll get a notice.”
“That’s not very compelling,” Barbara said, making a note in front of her. The others at the table didn’t seem very compelled by Barbara. Which made Pansy feel better.
“It says in your file that you have six years of experience on the police force.” That comment came from Mayor Lana Ramirez.
“Yes.”
“And your father was police chief.”
Pansy nodded. “He was.”
“But he was thirty-five when he took the job. Do you feel that you have the necessary maturity to handle the responsibilities inherent to this position?”
“My father was thirty-five,” Pansy said. “And he also had the responsibilities of a ranch and a family. My life is Gold Valley. I’m devoted absolutely to the community and to the people here.”
“And what are your feelings on the school being run at the Dalton ranch?” This question came from Barbara.
“My feelings on it? I don’t really have any. They met all the legal requirements to be able to do so.”
“So you don’t think it’s a problem that they’re bringing juvenile delinquents into town.”
“There hasn’t been any trouble.”
“One of the boys went missing last year and the search and rescue effort cost the city a substantial sum of money. Additionally, there was the break-in at my home.”
“Two incidents don’t make a trend,” Pansy said. “We are very fortunate in Gold Valley to have a low incidence of crime. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be issues. The town is populated by people. No m
atter where they come from, people aren’t perfect.”
She imagined that she should pander a little bit more, but she really didn’t know how. All she knew was honesty. Being straightforward. She looked up and she caught Lana’s eyes. The other woman seemed to approve. And maybe this was the strategy that Pansy should use anyway. Because it was proving that she could handle opposition. She didn’t know what else to do.
The questioning went on, and Pansy answered everything to the best of her ability. When it came to facts, she was completely certain of herself.
When it came to her qualifications, she was confident.
And when it was finished, she shook hands with the panel and walked out of the room, feeling energized.
She was going to be able to do this. She knew what she wanted. She knew that she was qualified.
And all of her concerns about West faded away because when it came to her work, she knew exactly what she was doing.
Then, her radio squawked. It was dispatch.
“Daniels.”
“There’s been a break-in at Buttercloud Bakery.”
Buttercloud was a small family owned bakery just off Main that had cakes and bread you could buy by the slice or as a whole, and served biscuit sandwiches all day. It was a fairly new business and was becoming popular with locals and tourists alike.
“I’m on my way.”
By the time Pansy arrived, the owners were there, surveying the broken windows.
“What was taken?” Pansy asked.
“The register was pried open, but we didn’t have more than fifty dollars inside. That’s gone. And mostly... A lot of bread. And Twinkies.”
Pansy shook her head. “I don’t understand. I mean, that window is more expensive than what was taken.”
“At least insurance will cover that,” said the owner.
“Yeah. Well. We’ll check for prints and all of that.” And when she was finished, and they ran them through the system later, she was not terribly surprised to discover that they were the same fingerprints that she had found on Barbara Niedermayer’s car.