Sergeant Sexypants

by Tawna Fenske

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “That’s the emergency ringtone I set for work,” he says as the phone buzzes again. “Must be something urgent if they’re calling on my day off.”

  Of course, Austin is one of those guys who obeys the law to the letter, waiting until the truck is completely stopped to pull his phone out of his pocket and answer the call. “Lieutenant Dugan.”

  I can’t hear what’s being said on the other end of the line, but I watch Austin’s handsome face crease into a frown. “Are you sure?”

  More frowning as Austin grips the wheel hard with his free hand. “If she doesn’t testify, that son of a bitch could walk. I don’t care how long it’s been, you know what he did.”

  I’ve never heard him sound so intense. Gone is jovial, smiling Austin. Hard-assed cop Austin has replaced him, and he’s not happy.

  I might find the intensity sexy if his words weren’t turning my skin to gooseflesh.

  “So I’ll go there,” Austin says. “She won’t come to us, I’ll go to her. I’m not letting the family go through another goddamn trial.”

  Beside me on the bench seat, Virginia pricks her ears and whines. I stroke a hand down her back, soothing myself as much as her.

  “I don’t fucking care how old Zonski was at the time,” he says. “And I don’t care how much time has passed. A crime is a crime, and that was a goddamn adult one. We can’t just wave the wand of forgiveness and make it go away. A kid lost his life, Jim—do you seriously not remember that?”

  More silence as my stomach fills with curdled lemon. I concentrate on petting the dog, on keeping my heart steady, on trying not to look guilty.

  “Thank you for the update,” he says. “I’ll make some calls as soon as I’m back.”

  Then he switches off the phone.

  He shoves it back in his pocket and turns to me with a sheepish look. “Sorry about that.”

  “Is there a problem?” My voice is a croak, and it’s all I can do to force my mouth into a timid smile.

  “Yeah, it’s—hell, I can’t really talk about it. Police stuff. Just an old case that’s cropping up again. You’ll maybe read something about it in the paper soon, but I can’t say much until it’s public.”

  “You’re not—are you in danger? Or is the community?”

  “No. God, no.” He smiles and puts a hand on my knee. “Don’t worry, it’s got nothing to do with you or us or any of our livelihoods or well-being.”

  He’s wrong about that. Not this case, that’s not what I mean. I believe him when he says it’s old news and nothing to start locking my doors over or carrying a shotgun to the bakery.

  But the words he just said, those matter.

  I don’t care how much time has passed.

  A crime is a crime.

  We can’t just wave the wand of forgiveness and make it go away.

  I swallow back the lump in my throat and force myself to smile.

  “I hope it all works out,” I say. “Let me know if I can help.”

  “Thanks,” he says, flashing me a tight smile as he eases the truck back out onto the road. “I appreciate that.”

  And that’s when I know.

  No matter what, I can’t tell him. I can never breathe a word of my secret to Austin.

  I close my eyes and accept that as the highway hums beneath our tires and the miles slip slowly behind us.

  I’ve been home less than a day when my brothers summon me to an emergency resort owners’ meeting.

  Since Ponderosa Resort is owned solely by us, it’s just my brothers and me in a conference room with a big pile of Sean’s famous Dungeness crab-stuffed mushroom caps and a bottle of Pinot Noir.

  “I threw these together for Genevieve Dugan after she called yesterday to ask if she could bring her producer over,” he says as he pours wine into each of our glasses. “She swooned.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t call me.” I scoop three mushrooms onto my plate and give Sean a stern look. “It’s such a huge deal, I would have come back to help.”

  “Which is exactly why we didn’t call you,” Mark grumbles as he shovels half-a-dozen mushrooms onto his own plate. “We had it covered.”

  James—the only one of us who isn’t dressed like he’s settling onto the couch for movie night—flips his necktie over one shoulder and rolls up his sleeves. “I asked to see a boilerplate contract, just to get a feel for how they run things. It might be premature, but I’d like to get a jump on the contract terms and legal nuances of doing a show like this. The fun stuff.”

  Spoken like a recovering attorney, which is precisely what he is. As James leans forward to claim a spoonful of butter sauce for his own plate of mushroom caps, I survey my siblings.

  “Thank you for giving her a second tour,” I say. “That seems like a good sign, right? That she came back out again.”

  “Yep.” Sean grins. “Pretty sure it’s my food pushing us over the edge.”

  He’s kidding, but he’s probably right. Having a Michelin-starred chef in charge of the resort’s culinary offerings has done wonders for putting us on the radar of the wealthy clientele we’ve been targeting. We’re all good at our jobs—James, Mark, even me—but none of us has Sean’s world-famous reputation.

  “This calls for a celebration,” I tell them.

  Mark looks at me. “What the hell does it look like we’re doing?”

  “You called this a meeting,” I point out.

  “James called it a meeting.” Sean pours a couple extra tablespoons of wine into our oldest brother’s glass and shoves it in front of him. “A good indication he needs to loosen up.”

  “And we’re talking about business stuff,” I continue. “So it’s a meeting.”

  “It’s a meeting with wine and hors d’oeuvres,” Sean points out. “That makes it slightly more tolerable.”

  James picks up a thick folder of documents and taps them on the table. “I took the liberty of printing out—”

  “Bree’s right,” Mark says, wiping his thick lumberjack beard with a napkin. “We should celebrate. Talk about fun shit instead of work.”

  James frowns, possibly because his vocabulary does not include the words “fun shit.” He sighs. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Bree’s romantic hot springs trip.” Sean shoots a knowing look at Mark. “We’ve been wondering how it went.”

  “We don’t want to hear sex stuff,” Mark clarifies.

  “But we do want to know how serious things are with you and the cop.” Sean takes a sip of wine and leans back in his chair. “Could be handy having a police chief in the family.”

  James gives him a withering look. “Why, are you planning something illegal?”

  Sean grins back. “I like to have options. It’s nice of Bree to look out for us like this, hooking up with a cop and all.”

  I’m beginning to think my brothers are a pain in the ass. And also I might prefer a business meeting.

  Sean sets his wineglass on the table and looks at me, a sliver of seriousness in his teasing expression. “Seriously, you’re the nosiest person I know when it comes to everyone else’s love life,” he says. “Brandon and Jade. Amber and me. It’s our turn to bug the shit out of you.”

  “Very mature,” I mutter.

  “Well it’s not like we got to grow up putting lizards in your bed or yanking your pigtails,” Mark points out. “All that stuff brothers are supposed to do to their sisters.”

  Sean nods in agreement. “We’re making up for lost time.”

  James sighs, recognizing the fact that he’s lost control of this meeting. He reaches for his wine and takes a healthy slug. “So you’re dating a police officer,” he says.

  “The soon-to-be chief of police,” Sean corrects. “Top dog. The big man.”

  Mark’s studying me over his empty plate. “You’ve thrown in the towel on your no-cops rule?”

  The way he’s looking at me makes my forearms prickle with tiny goosebumps. He does
n’t know my secret—none of them do—but Mark’s staring like he can read my mind. Does he suspect something? Or did Dad maybe tell him about—

  “I’m growing as a person,” I say, infusing my voice with enough maturity and confidence that I sound convincing. “It’s okay to change your mind about things. To change your outlook on life and love and dating and…”

  I trail off, aware that I’m talking like a self-help book. Maybe I should have insisted we stick to calling this a business meeting. I look to James for rescue. “Should we talk about this month’s financials?”

  “No.” He picks up his wineglass and drains half of it, tugging his tie loose with his free hand. “You and I have plenty of time to go over that on our way to the Portland meeting next week.”

  “Fine.” I turn to Sean. “Did I miss anything with the travel journalists? They’re staying apart, doing their day trips, behaving like grownups instead of horny teenagers at summer camp?”

  Sean snorts and takes a sip of wine. “We already went over this,” he says. “We didn’t manage to run this place into the ground in the twenty-four hours you were gone. It’s okay to relax a little, Bree.”

  “We’ve got things covered,” James says. “The staff is well-trained, and the rest of us have everything under control.”

  Mark nods, still watching me with that look. “You can trust us, you know. With anything.”

  I nod like a dumbass and look away, intent on filling my plate with more mushrooms, refilling my wineglass, adjusting my napkin, doing anything but acknowledging there are some things my family can’t do for me.

  Not then. Not now. Maybe not ever.

  Chapter 13

  AUSTIN

  I’m at my desk Friday morning, plowing my way through a pile of paperwork, when my sister walks in. She has two Starbucks cups and an expression like the one she’d get as a kid after sneaking a handful of gingersnaps from our mom’s cookie jar.

  “Don’t tell,” Kim says, handing me one of the cups as she slips into the chair across from me. “Mom’s watching Ainslie because I was supposed to have a dentist appointment, but they canceled on me at the last minute and I didn’t tell mom because I desperately wanted an hour to myself and does that make me a bad mother?”

  Kim’s the best mom I know—outside our own, of course—so I’m pretty sure that’s a rhetorical question.

  “You’re a great mother,” I assure her. “And also a fantastic sister for bringing me coffee. How’d you know I’d need it?”

  “Lucky guess,” she says. “And also I saw the paper this morning. That Zonski guy’s lawyers officially filed the motion for retrial.”

  I frown and take a sip of the coffee. It’s scalding and bitter and exactly what I need right now. “Yeah. I’ll have to testify again if he gets it. So will the sister, the girl who survived.”

  It was one of the worst cases I ever worked. An angry sixteen-year-old, blitzed out of his mind on meth and booze and whatever the hell else he’d ingested, drove his eight-year-old twin siblings home from school. Only they never made it to the house. He went off a cliff and into a tree, killing the brother instantly, and somehow managing to survive the crash himself. God bless airbags. Or not. The surviving sister remembered her brother’s words before he plunged them over that cliff.

  “It’s time to fucking die,” he’d screamed. “You assholes are coming with me.”

  Hearing that poor girl tell the story in her shaky, tear-filled voice literally brought me to my knees, and I’m mad as hell it’s coming up again.

  Bree must’ve seen the paper, too, since she called this morning to ask about it.

  “That must be so gut-wrenching,” she said after I filled her in on the history of the case. “I’m sorry you’re having to go through this. I wish I could help.”

  “I’m not worried about me,” I told her. “It’s the family—the fact that they’ll have to live through it all over again. That’s not the kind of thing people just move past, you know? The death of a kid, it’s the worst kind of tragedy a family can face.”

  “I’m sure it’s hard for the police, too,” she said. “For you.”

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “I still see those three kids’ faces in my dreams. Nightmares, really. It changes you, being so close to a case like that.”

  I’ve never shared that with anyone before. Bree must’ve heard the emotion in my voice, because I could swear I hear tears in hers, too. “Austin, I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “So, so, so sorry.”

  “Thanks,” I told her. “I sure lov—loved spending time with you the other night.”

  I almost said it. So damn close to telling her I love her, that I’ve fallen head over heels for her. I held off then, but maybe I won’t tonight. It’s Friday, so we’re getting together at my place for dinner. Bree agreed to spend the night.

  “Earth to Austin!” My sister waves a hand in front of my face, bringing me back to the present. “Helllllooo. Anyone home?”

  “Very funny.” I take a sip of my coffee. “Thanks again for this.”

  “What were you daydreaming about? You got this goofy look on your face.”

  “Nothing.”

  Kim grins, knowing damn well there’s a story here. “Is it Bree?” She sips her coffee, looking positively gleeful. “Come on, indulge an old married lady. I want to hear about your girlfriend.”

  I don’t correct her, even though I’m not positive Bree’s my girlfriend. But what else do you call someone you’re sleeping with and crazy about when you’re pretty sure she feels the same?

  “We’re taking it slow,” I say noncommittally. “But I’m hopeful.”

  Kim makes a face. “See, now why can’t Meredith do that? She’s been dating Icky Eddie for weeks and they’re already talking about moving in together.”

  That jolts me out of my own little dream world. “Meredith and Eddie?” I frown. “Seriously?”

  Kim groans “Yep. She thinks he’s going to propose.

  Crap, that reminds me. “I’ve been meaning to do a background check on Eddie. What’s his last name?” I pivot to grab my notepad, flipping the cover to reveal a blank page.

  “Dimwit,” she says. “Or maybe it’s Dewit.”

  I click my pen and scribble the name, along with a couple alternate spellings. Might as well check for aliases, too. “I’ll do it at lunchtime.”

  “Why not now? I want to see.”

  “The program I use for background checks is strictly confidential,” I tell her. “I’ll let you know if I find anything interesting.”

  “Fine.” She makes a face and slumps back in her chair. “Do we need to do one for Bree?”

  “What?”

  She shrugs and sips her coffee. “Between you and Dad, every guy who’s ever looked twice at us has gone through a background check. Just wondering who’s doing it for you.”

  “Don’t be dumb.” I’m dimly aware that I sound like a five-year-old version of myself when Kim would tease me about wetting the bed. “Bree’s about as squeaky clean as they come.”

  Kim shrugs again, not looking particularly concerned. I get that she’s desperate for excitement, so I’m not taking her suggestion personally. “Remember that one guy—the accountant Meredith brought home four years ago? Brent or Brett or—”

  “Britt,” I mutter. “Yeah. We all thought he was finally going to be Meredith’s steady guy.”

  “He might have been, if he hadn’t forgotten to mention he had a wife in Florida.”

  “Minor detail.” I still hate the guy. “I’m pretty confident Bree doesn’t have a husband. Or a wife,” I add before my sister can interject.

  Still, would it hurt to check?

  Stop. That’s silly, and besides…I trust Bree.

  My sister shrugs and takes another sip of coffee. “Suit yourself,” she says. “All I’m saying is that you have the resources at your fingertips. Might as well put them to use.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I say, mostly so we can end this conv
ersation. “I’ll do Bree after I do Eddie, if only so I can have the satisfaction of telling you you’re an idiot.”

  She laughs. “Don’t give me that look. I love Bree. Hell, if I didn’t have a great husband and if I batted for the other team, I’d totally steal her away from you. Even if she’s secretly a serial killer.” My sister glances at her watch and stands up. “I should get back. Mom’s expecting me at noon, and I’ll probably have to come clean about the dentist appointment getting cancelled.”

  “I doubt she’ll mind watching Ainslie again,” I tell her. “Hell, book eight more dentist appointments. Mom loves spoiling her.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  I get to my feet and move around the desk to give her a hug. “Thanks again for the coffee.

  “No problem. And congratulations.”

  “For what?”

  “For Bree.” She pulls back from the hug and smiles at me, and there’s a strange glow of sisterly pride in her eyes. Something that suggests I’m about to get some words of wisdom. “You know I’m just kidding about the criminal thing. I think she’s perfect for you. I’m so glad the two of you are seeing each other.”

  “Thanks.” My big, dumb heart throbs in my chest. “Tell Brian hi for me. And I’ll text him about elk hunting.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She waves as she sashays out the door. I watch her until she skips around the corner then move back to my desk. Settling back into my chair, I stare at my notepad where I’ve written the variations of Eddie’s name.

  Edward Dimwit. Eddie Dewit. Edward Dewit.

  I cue up my computer and toggle to the page where I do background checks, but it’s not Eddie’s name I type.

  Bree Bracelyn.

  Wait, no.

  Breeann Bracelyn.

  A twinge of guilt pinches the center of my chest, and I almost delete the words.

  But there’s nothing to worry about, so I hit enter.

  Then I sit back and watch the words scroll.

  Chapter 14

  BREE