Borrowing Trouble

by Stacy Finz

  “Not too many,” Sloane said.

  The girl was only fifteen and should stay as natural as possible. At least that was Sloane’s philosophy. Working in LA, she’d seen girls as young as sixteen getting boob jobs, nose jobs, even liposuction. Television, magazines, and advertisements had given girls such an unrealistic view of beauty that it made Sloane sick.

  Working out, eating right—not that she wasn’t prone to stuffing her face with junk food now and again—and making the best of what you were born with was the ticket to true beauty.

  And for all of Darla’s tacky plastic jewelry and outlandish hair colors, she knew how to play up a person’s natural features. To accentuate Rose’s beautiful brown eyes, Darla shaped her brows, giving them a wonderful arch. Afterward, Rose got a facial and a bag of cleansing products and instructions on how to use them.

  “The key,” Darla said, “is keeping your pores open and clean. Nothing is more attractive than healthy skin.”

  Harlee watched the whole process, regaling Rose with stories about her youth. How she’d had frizzy hair, a unibrow, and a mustache. No one looking at Harlee now would believe it, which had gone a long way toward perking up Rose’s confidence.

  Sloane could tell that the new hairstyle and Darla and Harlee’s easy way with Rose had helped her come out of her shell. In just the short time she’d worked at the police department, Sloane had seen a difference in the teen. She was more self-assured. In less than a week, she’d be going back to school, and Sloane hoped that Taylor and her posse would leave Rose alone. It would also help if Rose’s mother took a little more interest in her daughter.

  Early that morning, Sloane had picked Rose up at her house with the express purpose of meeting Mrs. Jones and getting her permission for the makeover. In a raspy smoker’s voice, Mrs. Jones had said, “As long as it doesn’t cost me anything,” and promptly got in her car and drove away. Well, the makeover hadn’t cost anyone a cent because Darla did it pro bono. Sloane had insisted on at least paying for the products.

  Harlee, who couldn’t seem to resist a project, threw a couple of extras in the bag. “You look awesome, Rose.”

  Rose stared at her reflection in the mirror and Sloane could tell that she liked what she saw. They went back to the police station, where Connie, Jake, and Rhys made a big fuss.

  “You at least look like a girl now,” Simpson said, and Sloane wanted to beat him over the head with a billy club.

  She’d give the kid credit, though. He’d thrown himself into the John Doe project like a mathematician with a problem to solve. Today he’d ridden over on his bike right after school and begun where he’d left off on Sunday. She’d come back from a call to find him hunkered over a list of missing persons reports, adding new names to the dry-erase board.

  Rose didn’t seem to mind the rude jibe. The two kids appeared to have a nice camaraderie. Sloane didn’t think they were boyfriend and girlfriend, just two people who had the sad commonality of being teenage outcasts.

  A horn honked outside and Rose gathered up her things, including Darla’s goodie bag. “That’s Skeeter. I’ve gotta go.” She ran out the door, calling, “See you tomorrow.”

  “Don’t you have homework to do, Simpson?” Sloane asked.

  Simpson hitched his shoulders. “When do we start calling these people’s families?” He nudged his head at the board, where there were at least fifteen missing persons listed.

  “I’ll start first thing tomorrow morning.” All she wanted to do now was go home and take a nap.

  The weekend, between the wedding and working, had worn her out. Not to mention that she’d spent much of it on high alert. Ever since Andy had told her that someone had called the Lumber Baron looking for her, she’d been a nervous wreck. She’d wanted to tell Brady, but he’d been so busy with catering Jake and Cecilia’s three-day event, including a breakfast on Sunday, that she hadn’t felt right about it. She should’ve told Rhys. But he would’ve demanded that they go to LAPD, and that was the last thing she needed.

  For all she knew it was a friend from LA or even someone from Chicago. Still, her cop sense told her the call was suspect and that she needed to watch her back.

  “I’ll be at school in the morning,” Simpson said, sounding disappointed.

  “We’ll have a briefing as soon as you come in. In the meantime, you should really go home, Simpson, and start your homework.”

  “Okay.” He grabbed his jacket and bike helmet. “Rudy Mendoza, this kid who goes to school with Rose and me, wants to help too. Can he?”

  “Um, sure.” But they were getting down to the last of their missing persons.

  She thought about Rhys’s idea that they wash police rigs. Kids were pretty smart. They’d know that was just grunt work. The John Doe case made them feel like they were doing something important. She’d have to come up with some other tasks they could work on that would seem significant, like a real contribution.

  After Simpson left, Sloane decided to cut out too. At home she found Brady on the porch, leaning back in his rocker, reading a book. It was a Jack Reacher novel. She loved those.

  “You recovering?” She climbed the stairs.

  “Yeah. Long weekend, huh?”

  “I didn’t get to thank you for the roses. They’re beautiful. I have a present for you too.”

  “Not much of a Valentine’s Day.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. The food was amazing. Those shrimp skewers. . . I ate at least ten. And those pastry cup things and the plum tomatoes filled with ceviche . . . oh my God. It makes me want to have a party just so I can hire you as the caterer.”

  He laughed. “I think it went pretty well. The inn emptied out right after breakfast this morning and we don’t have any bookings until tomorrow. So I’m off until tomorrow afternoon—get to sleep in.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “Want to go for a run?”

  Sloane considered it. “Nah, I just want to relax, have a glass of wine, and do some laundry. But don’t let me stop you.”

  “I’ll probably go in a few minutes. We could have dinner after. I could cobble together a meal from the wedding and breakfast leftovers.”

  “I’m all in favor of that. I’ll change, put in a wash, and set the table while you take your run. You don’t mind if we do it in my place, do you?”

  “Nope. I love ruffles and lace.”

  She poked him in the arm, went inside and quickly put on jeans. Throwing together a load of laundry, Sloane hauled it to the washer and turned it on. She was just about to set the table when her cell rang. It was her oldest brother, Aidan.

  “Hey, everything okay?” Usually she and Aidan just emailed.

  “Everything’s fine. I’m just checking on you, little sister.”

  “Nothing to report,” she lied.

  “How’s Nugget?” For some reason every time Aidan said the name of Sloane’s new home he laughed.

  “What are you laughing at, goofball? It’s good here.” Then even she started laughing. “Of all the McBrides, you would like it here the most.” Aidan was the outdoorsman of the family. He liked nothing more than to hike up a mountain and sleep under the stars.

  “If the pictures you sent are legit, I probably would. You still on bear patrol?”

  “I’m still trying to hunt down the identity of the remains we found. And in my free time, I’m running a pilot program for at-risk teens.” She rolled her eyes. Rhys came up with some doozies.

  “That sounds right up your alley.”

  “Being a social worker instead of a cop? Thanks.”

  “Ah, Sloane, we’re all social workers to some extent; otherwise we wouldn’t have gone into public service. I just meant that you like helping people. Isn’t that why you became a cop in the first place?”

  Yeah. To solve crimes. Major crimes. “What’s going on there?”

  “Not much. Just finished Kids’ Weekend.” It was a huge event for the firehouses in Chicago. CFD opened its doors to the community, giv
ing kids tours, letting them climb on the firetrucks, and helping parents put together ID kits for their children, to aid law enforcement if, God forbid, the kid ever went missing. Sloane’s dad had always been the chief organizer.

  “How did that go?”

  “Exhausting, but nice, though it gets our folks riled up about not having any grandchildren.”

  “You and Sue better start cranking them out then.”

  “Yeah . . . about that.” Long pause. “She got sick of waiting for a marriage proposal and is seeing someone else.”

  “She moved out?” Sloane was taken aback. When had this happened?

  “It’s been a few weeks . . . I should’ve told you.”

  “Ah, Aid, I’m so sorry.” Now Sloane knew the real reason for the call. “You guys have been together forever . . . maybe she’ll come back.”

  “Nah. I screwed up. She’s done with me, Sloane.”

  Sue had wanted to get married and Aidan had kept putting it off. First he’d decided that they should wait until he got elevated to the arson detail. Then he’d decided they should wait until after Sue got her teaching credential. There had always been an excuse.

  “Hey, Aid, you think maybe she wasn’t the right one for you?”

  “She was the one for me.” His voice got quiet. “But I guess I wasn’t the one for her.”

  “Why don’t you take a few days off and come here? You could fly into Reno. I have a couple of days coming to me and we could go fishing, camping, or just hang out. Whatever you want to do.”

  “I’ll think about it,” he said. “I’ve got a call coming in. But it was good talking to you, little sister.”

  She hung up, feeling sad. Sue had been such a big part of their family. She and Aidan had been going together for three years. A year ago, she’d decided to change careers from technical writer to middle school teacher and moved in with Aidan so they could save money while she got her credential. Sloane suspected what Sue had really wanted was to start making a home and family with Aidan. But her brother had put it off and put it off until Sue probably felt like she was running out of time.

  Apparently, her smart, ambitious big brother could sniff out a firebug a mile away but was clueless when it came to women and their biological clocks. Sloane considered calling her parents or Arron or Shane to get the full scoop, but someone was knocking on her door. Lately, she’d been real careful about keeping it dead-bolted. It seemed too soon for Brady if he’d gone on that run.

  She looked out the peephole, grinned, and unlocked the door. “You didn’t go?”

  “I’m feeling lazy.”

  “You deserve a day off. You worked so hard this weekend.”

  Brady came in carrying two bags. “I need to heat some of this stuff up. You hungry?”

  “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I just got off the phone with my brother Aidan. He and his long-term girlfriend broke up.”

  “I gather you liked her,” Brady said.

  “A lot. She was part of the family. Aid said she got tired of waiting for him to marry her and is dating someone else. He sounded depressed.”

  “Why didn’t he marry her then?”

  “Good question.” She helped unload the sacks of food. “You brought the prime rib. God, that was delicious.”

  “Homemade horseradish, too.” He held up a small jar. “Maybe he’s just not into marriage. It’s not for everyone, you know?”

  “Well, then he probably should’ve told her that right off the bat, instead of making her think that a proposal was just around the corner.”

  “I agree. Everyone needs to be on the same page. It saves a lot of heartache in the end.”

  She wanted to know what page they were on, but felt self-conscious asking. As it turned out, she didn’t have to.

  “That’s what I like about us,” he said, and preheated the oven. “You understand that given my situation I’m in no way able to commit to anything. Hell, at any minute I may have to pull up stakes and go somewhere else.”

  “You’re giving Sandra too much power.”

  “No, I’m keeping the people I care about safe.”

  But Sloane was starting to wonder if Sandra was just an excuse and whether Brady suffered from the same malady as her brother. Commitmentitis.

  Chapter 17

  “Let’s talk about the menu you want for your birthday party, Lkiddo.”

  “ ‘Beware, the chef is hot.’ ” Lina read the inscription on Brady’s apron and cocked a brow. “Well, don’t we think highly of ourselves?”

  Brady laughed. “Sloane gave it to me yesterday.” His Valentine’s Day gift.

  “Did she now?”

  His and Sloane’s relationship was starting to get complicated. He’d never given a woman flowers for Valentine’s Day. It had always screamed obligation and a bunch of other pledges Brady had never been comfortable making. The fact was, he liked flying solo. Still did. The only reason he’d given the dozen roses to Sloane . . . Ah jeez, he didn’t know why he’d done it. Just seemed like the right thing to do.

  “Are you guys a couple now?”

  “Menu, Lina. Focus.”

  She smirked at him knowingly and got back to the party. “I want it to be fun. Nothing over-the-top.”

  “You’ll have to be more specific.” Brady poured them both cups of coffee. He’d slept in and it was his first cup of the day.

  “I loved what you did for Jake and Cecilia, but that’s way too fancy for what I have in mind. If it wasn’t February I’d want it to be a cookout—hamburgers, hot dogs, that sort of thing. Plus, I don’t want this party costing my brother and sister-in-law an arm and a leg.”

  “Okay.” That gave him something to work with. “What do you think of pigs in a blanket, mini fried-chicken sandwiches, sliders, and a variety of salads? We’d be playing on that cookout theme, only keeping everything indoors. For dessert we could go old-school—ice cream cake.”

  “You’re a genius!” she said, and threw her arms around him. Lina backed up and read his apron again, and in a breathy voice said, “And a hot chef to boot.”

  “Yes, I am. So you better not touch or you’ll get burned.”

  “Griffin might come to the party.” She hopped up on a stool, sipped the coffee Brady had poured, and tried to act casual. Brady knew better.

  “Oh yeah? How did that come about?”

  “My truck broke down near Chilcoot. I called for a tow and he came to the rescue. He told me that the real estate agent isn’t in the picture, kissed me, and afterward did what he always does. Sorry. That shouldn’t have happened. I told him no big deal, mentioned the party, and told him to drop by if he was in the area.”

  She poured more cream into her coffee. “That’s the shorthand version anyway. But more or less I did what you told me. I played hard-to-get.”

  “Wait a minute,” he said. “I did not tell you to play hard-to-get. I told you to finish school and then worry about men.”

  “You also told me that men don’t like needy women. So I’m being cool as a cucumber.”

  Brady looked at her and shook his head. “No, you’re playing games. Men don’t like that either.”

  “Frankly, Brady, I’m tired of the push me, pull me. Griff is full of mixed messages. He tells me I’m too young for him, then the next thing I know he’s kissing me. I’m so over it.”

  “Then why did you invite him to your birthday party?” He bobbed his chin at her in challenge.

  “Because he’s a friend. No matter what, he’ll always be a friend.”

  “Fair enough. Who else is coming to this shindig?”

  “A bunch of my friends from school. Obviously Rhys, Maddy, Emma, and my little brother, Nate and Sam, the McCreedys, Donna and her husband, the entire police department, probably the mayor. You know how it works in this town.”

  Brady cracked a smile. “Yep. We’re gonna have a full house.” He’d have to make room in the deep freeze for the cake and t
he pigs in a blanket, which he could prepare in advance.

  “I better get back to the desk,” she said. “Nate’s here and you know what a taskmaster he is.”

  “I am not.” Nate breezed into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and popped his head in.

  “What are you looking for?” Brady asked.

  “Nothing. I just do it out of habit. That’s why I’ve gotta lose five pounds.”

  “Brady just came up with the most excellent menu for my birthday party.”

  “Yeah?” Nate sat next to Lina at the island and she told him what they’d planned. “Andy is under the impression that his band is playing. I hope you disabuse him of that notion as quickly as possible.”

  Lina snorted and got to her feet. “I don’t know where he got that idea. Not from me, that’s for sure. But I’ll go break the news to him right now.” She rushed out of the kitchen.

  “You want something to eat?” Brady asked Nate.

  “I’m good. How’s the menu for the restaurant at Gold Mountain coming along?”

  “Fine. I cruised by the other day on the way to Glory Junction. Looks like you’re making headway.”

  “I’d like to have it open in time for Memorial Day weekend.”

  Brady jerked his head in surprise. “That soon, huh?”

  “Things have been going so well with the rehab that we’re thinking we could actually make it happen in time for the holiday. If you think it’s too ambitious for the restaurant, we could always roll that out later.”

  “No, we should do it all at the same time. Makes a statement that way. After Lina’s party, I’ll cut back on the catering and go at it full throttle.”

  Nate stared at him for a second. “If you think I don’t know how overqualified for the Lumber Baron you are, you’re kidding yourself. What happened at your last job, Brady? What are you running from?”

  Brady really didn’t want to have this conversation. But from the time he’d taken the job he’d known it was inevitable. “Nothing happened as far as Pig and Tangelo. I was a rock star there and that’s the truth, Nate. I had some personal problems with a woman and felt it was best to leave.”