by Karis Walsh
Like this one. She finished cutting down the last of the knotweed and lugged the heavy bags back toward her car, stopping to pick up a few stray pieces of garbage along the way. Not the most glamorous side of her profession. Kira shoved an empty soda can and a candy-bar wrapper into one of the bags before she leaned against a cottonwood trunk and pulled off her gloves. She rubbed at the callouses near the base of her fingers. Even with protection, hours of chopping with the machete were brutal on her hands. Was there a glamorous side to her profession at all? Not really, but there were rewarding aspects to it, and they kept her going. Protecting what she saw as a beautiful and complex ecosystem from Tad Milford’s greed would definitely be one of the perks.
Kira pushed away from the cottonwood and continued dragging the bags along the narrow path. Dirty and sweaty as it was, the physical exertion had been good for her. She felt some semblance of equilibrium returning. She’d spent most of her week in some wetland or another—not uncommon for her, but this time the reasons had been more personal than professional. She’d made a few forays onto Milford’s property in an attempt to find any way possible to bolster the wetland’s rating, to give it every chance of survival.
Kira opened the trunk of her car and put the bags inside. They barely fit, and a few snags of black plastic were visible on the edges of the trunk lid after she shoved it closed. A good day’s work. She got in the car and sat for a few moments, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. Her experience with Tad had been simplistic and easily converted into energy. Energy to fight against him and energy to burn off with some hard labor. Abby, on the other hand, had created a much different kind of tension inside her, and Kira hadn’t been able to dissipate it nearly as well. Abby hadn’t engendered fear in her, but she’d been disturbing just the same. She’d forced Kira to relive the night she’d met Abby’s brother. Dale, the cut on her cheek, the shame of being caught in a situation she’d never expected to experience. How different would things have been if this Officer Hargrove had answered her call? Abby the white knight, Abby the mysterious horse donor. Kira had so many questions to ask, but instead of looking for an opportunity this week at the fair, she’d sought ways to avoid seeing Abby again.
Kira started her car with a rough twist of the key, and the engine revved loudly. She wasn’t afraid of Dale anymore, or of her memories. She was free now and determined not to get ensnared by another alpha personality ever again. The only reason she’d been too cowardly to interrogate Abby further was because she was attracted to her, but she was strong enough to resist her body’s reactions. She’d dealt with Tad by confronting their fight head-on, and she should do the same with Abby. Tonight when she and Julie went to the fair, she’d march right over to the police stables and…
Kira stopped at a red light and resumed tapping her fingers on the wheel. And…what? She pictured Abby standing in front of her wearing that sexy riding uniform, perfectly fitted to every curve. Abby, with her polished appearance and stern manner, but eyes so soft they almost seemed vulnerable…
The driver behind her honked, and Kira broke out of her daydream and accelerated through the green light. Vulnerable to what? Kira had no idea, but she knew her own vulnerabilities all too well. Abby—at least her type—was one of them. Kira sighed. Maybe she’d seek out Abby and question her tonight. Or maybe she’d wait until the weekend…
*
Kira texted Julie as she walked across the fairgrounds, dodging other pedestrians as they moved in and out of her peripheral vision. She’d been close enough to Puyallup while working at her wetland on the south side of Tacoma to make it easy enough to stop by and check Nirvana. Julie had begged to be allowed to miss school for the entire two-week run of the fair. She’d debated the issue several times with Kira, injecting all the passion and angst a preteen could muster into her arguments. Nirvana wasn’t used to being in a stall. She’d miss her pasture and wither away without Julie there to comfort her. Just think how much more Julie would learn about responsibility and hard work if she could only stay at the fair and take care of her horse…
Kira hadn’t relented. Julie could miss a few days of school when it interfered with her riding classes, but no more than necessary. Kira had privately made one concession, though, and she stopped by the barn almost every afternoon, texting Julie pictures of a perfectly content Nirvana, who seemed quite happy to stand in her stall and eat expensive hay all day.
The shrill beep of a brightly colored motorized trolley interrupted Kira’s texting. She jumped out of the way as a man in striped overalls drove past her with a tram full of fairgoers. She stayed on the side of the walkway and finished her text under the rhythmic shadows from the Skyride cars. She hit send and inhaled deeply. The air around her was smoky from a nearby barbecue pit, and her stomach growled in response to the honey-tinged scent of burning alder wood. Tempting, but if she was going to eat carnival food for lunch every day, she’d opt for one of the healthier options she’d found when she’d researched the nutrition information for the fair.
She passed by the log-cabin-style barbecue joint and glanced inside at the lucky patrons with plates of ribs and baked potatoes on the long tables in front of them. Her attention was caught by one woman in particular. She was even more tempting than the food, with her threadbare KISS T-shirt and wire-rimmed shades. Kira shook her head. Leave it to her to aim right for the badass rocker chick. At least her interest in another woman proved she wasn’t as enthralled by Abby as she had thought.
Kira stopped and backed up a few paces. Damn. It was Abby. As if aware of her presence, Abby looked directly at her and sketched a wave with sauce-covered fingers. Yeah, that helped. Now all Kira could picture was licking them clean one by one. She’d been caught staring, so she had no choice but to enter the food booth and at least acknowledge Abby.
“Hey,” she said when she got to Abby’s spot in the back corner. “I barely recognized you without…with your hair…” She waved in the general direction of Abby’s straight and glossy hair where it draped softly down to her shoulders, like expensive silk. “I didn’t realize you could remove it from that bun without cracking it.”
Abby grinned and ran her fingers down her center part, red-brown waves catching the filtered sunlight. “This is my off-duty look. I only wear the bulletproof bun when I’m working. Safety first.”
Kira tried to smile back, but her lips felt tight and her mouth too dry to move. Stop staring and get out of here.
“Have a seat,” Abby said. She wiped her fingers on a tattered napkin and pushed the chair across from her away from the table.
“Okay,” Kira said. Only because her knees were feeling peculiarly weak at the moment. She’d sit for a while and then get out. “I have to ask you—”
Abby groaned. “I know you do. First let me get you some food, though. Are you hungry?”
She stood and Kira looked up at her. Tall and proud, with a precise bearing that shone through her bleach-marked, ratty clothes like a diamond wrapped in burlap. Yes, Kira was very hungry.
“Well, I was going to get a salad for lunch, but this smells awfully good.”
“Be right back.”
Kira perched on the edge of her plastic chair. This might not be her best idea, but maybe she’d get some real answers from Abby while she was here. She’d treat the lunch as a fact-finding mission. Research. Luckily Abby got back to the table within minutes because Kira was about to break off a chunk of her cornbread and eat it.
She took a bite of succulent ribs, barely needing to chew the tender meat. “Tell me about—oh God, that’s good!—Nirvana and why you gave her to Julie.”
Abby watched Kira lick the thick burgundy sauce off her fingers. She had to remind herself to breathe, let alone keep control over every word she said and every detail she either shared or kept hidden. She needed freedom from the ever-present need to hold up a heavy shield. One hour of pure selfishness? She’d take it.
“It’s not unusual for 4-H alums to gift other rider
s with their horses. Especially when said alums have demanding jobs and too little time to spend on activities like riding.” She held up her hand to stop Kira’s follow-up questions. Her words were true, even though they didn’t accurately explain her personal motivation. “No more. Julie has her horse and they’re good for each other. You can’t deny that. And now I’m really off duty. No topics more serious than food or carnival rides.”
Kira seemed about to protest, but she eventually nodded and took a huge bite of her loaded baked potato. “Deal,” she mumbled around the mouthful of food. She waved her fork. “So, talk about rides. What’s your favorite kind?”
“Anything that goes fast,” Abby said. She remembered her first visits to the fair once she was old enough to graduate from kiddie rides to the more grown-up versions. She and Rick had been fearless, spinning and twirling on rides until they were too dizzy to walk straight. “I like the feeling of air whipping around and through me, and I love vertical drops that make my stomach sink.”
“I believe it,” Kira said. She drizzled honey on a piece of cornbread and popped it in her mouth. “I’ll bet you drive like a fiend, too.”
Abby was momentarily distracted by the honey, imagining it dripping onto her own skin for Kira to lick. She took a drink of iced tea before she could speak again. “Guilty. Before I was old enough to get my license, I was an exercise rider at the track. I’d gallop Thoroughbreds for hours every weekend. That was a thrill.”
Kira put down her fork and pointed her finger at Abby. “Do not tell Julie about that. She’ll want to do it because you did, and I’m not going to sit in the bleachers and watch her barreling around a track on some barely controlled racehorse.”
“I promise I won’t tell,” Abby said, but she liked the thought of Julie looking up to her and wanting to be like her. She’d never thought of herself as a role model for anyone, and she realized the responsibility of it. She’d been disappointed by the people she’d idolized—especially her grandfather—and she knew firsthand how painful the fall from grace was. “What about you? What rides do you like?”
“I don’t care about fast, but I like to go upside down.”
That can be arranged. Abby needed to get her imagination under control. Kira’s words were inspiring some enticing visuals. “Why upside down?”
Kira put her elbows on the table and gave the question some thought. “I like getting a new perspective, I guess. Everything looks different when you see it from another angle. And I notice the pull of gravity more, even though I barely give it thought when I’m right-side up.”
Abby smiled. She hadn’t done this in ages. Talk about nothing in particular, share small pieces of herself with another person. A new perspective, and something so basic and everyday that she was startled by a feeling of profound intimacy. “Your turn,” she said. “Pick a topic.”
Kira looked around at the various booths and kiosks in this corner of the fair. “Aha! Okay, you’re getting your caricature drawn. What’s the one feature you secretly hope the artist won’t choose to exaggerate because you really don’t like it?”
“Good question,” she said. She propped her chin in her hand and thought about her answer. Most of what she didn’t like about herself was genetic and invisible. “My lips,” she said. “I always thought they were unprofessional.”
Kira raised her eyebrows, and Abby thought she saw a soft flush of pink on her cheeks, but the sunglasses made it difficult to tell. “Your lips are…unprofessional?”
“Yeah. If they were thinner I’d look more authoritative.”
Kira gave a strangled sort of laugh and she reached across the table to lightly run her index finger over Abby’s lower lip. “Trust me, they’re perfect.”
Abby caught Kira’s hand before she could pull it away. She held it against her mouth for another moment before darting her tongue across trembling fingertips. Hints of wood smoke and something grasslike and delicious. Kira snatched her hand away.
“Hey, if you put it near my mouth I’m going to kiss it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kira said. She was laughing along with Abby, but this time there was no doubt she was blushing.
“Your turn to answer,” Abby said. “Please say you don’t like your breasts so I can touch them and tell you they’re perfect, like you did with my lips.”
Kira shrieked and threw her sauce-stained napkin at Abby. She caught it easily and reveled in the lightness she felt as laughter moved through her without resistance—a rare and pleasant sensation, just like the feel of Kira’s fingers had been.
“Hargrove? Jeez, I barely recognized you in that getup. Rock on!” Harvey Wayne stood next to their table. His arrival had gone unnoticed while Abby had been caught up in laughter, but the moment she saw him, her inescapable life burst the fragile bubble of make-believe she’d created.
He leered at Kira. “Who’s your friend? I have to say, Hargrove, you sure manage to attract the lookers. What’s your secret?”
Before she realized she was going to move, Abby was up and standing between Wayne and Kira. “We’re having a private lunch,” she said, but she felt Kira’s hand on her upper arm.
“I have to go anyway, Abby,” Kira said. “Julie will be home from school soon, and we’ll have to get back here for the show. Thanks for lunch.”
She left quickly, and Abby let her go, resigned as she’d been to the inevitable end to their off-duty truce.
“Was it something I said?” Harvey asked. Abby just shook her head and gathered up their empty plates. Even if he hadn’t come along, her work life would have intruded eventually. She tossed her trash in the garbage and walked away.
Chapter Six
Abby gritted her teeth and swung her leg over the back of the seventeen-hand-tall mare. Legs’s shoulder was an inch higher than the top of Abby’s head, and she would have been a challenge to mount even without tight and aching muscles. A week of unaccustomed riding had made the task nearly impossible, but no way was Abby going to use the fucking stool Cal had discreetly placed at the end of the aisle. A small group of onlookers hovered near the door to the barn while the officers prepared for their nightly patrol, and Abby wasn’t going to look weak in front of them or the rest of her team.
“Don’t be a hero, Lieutenant,” Don said with a grin in her direction as he used the stool to climb on Fancy. “I remember the first few weeks of training with Rachel. My thighs hurt so bad I thought I’d be permanently bowlegged.”
Abby adjusted her stirrups without looking at him. Her ankles were chafed raw from her tall boots and she had a series of small bruises on the insides of her calves and knees, but she wasn’t going to admit it. “I appreciate your concern, Officer, but I’m doing fine. I’ve ridden before.”
Yes, she’d ridden in the past, but this was completely different. Even busy horse-show days didn’t compare to a few hours of patrol on the midway. The riders were always on alert, always surrounded by unpredictable crowds. Each evening, after their shift, she’d dropped to the ground from Legs’s back and felt as if she was going to disintegrate at the first jarring contact with the pavement. She’d barely make it home to the relaxing comfort of a few beers and a bottle of foul-smelling horse liniment—another gift from Cal—and then she’d crawl out of bed to start over again the next morning.
Don laughed. “Must’ve been someone else I saw hobbling around the barn aisle. My mistake.”
“That does it, Lindstrom.” Abby glared at him while Billie came out of the barn and used the stool to mount Ranger. “You’re on probation for insubordination. For your punishment you have to carry me out to my car tonight because I don’t think I can walk that far.”
“Another day or two and you’ll be feeling better,” Billie said. She moved Ranger into position on Abby’s left side. “As long as you keep using Cal’s liniment every night.”
“Ugh,” Don said. “She’s using it, don’t worry. I smelled it as soon as I got through the gate this afternoon.”
&nbs
p; Abby tried to glare at him, but she couldn’t stop from joining in their laughter. He was exaggerating, of course, but not by much. Even with repeated showers, she smelled like someone who had recently been embalmed. Still, the liniment helped enough that she didn’t care. Her muscles would heal—stronger than before—but her relationship with her team was changing, and she wasn’t sure how she’d be able to return to her former aloof and authoritative position. She had to make it happen, she just wasn’t sure how.
Abby’s attention had been split between the police stables and the show-horse area, and she was finally rewarded when she saw Kira emerge from the 4-H barn, looking adorably like a teenager herself in dark khaki capris and white sleeveless T-shirt even though the evening was turning cool. Kira immediately looked to her right when she got outside and she gave what was probably supposed to be a casual wave, although it seemed anything but as she turned and darted back into the barn. Was she in the habit of looking for Abby, too? She had enjoyed lunch with Kira the other day. No Nirvana to remind Abby of her life-consuming familial obligations, and no uniform to force Kira to relive bad memories. It had been a brief moment for each of them to step out of their normal lives, and Abby treasured those rare opportunities whenever she found them. They were the exceptions, though, and never could be the rule.
Roles had always been clearly defined for Abby. She was the boss over her sergeant and the officers on her mounted team and she ruled strictly but fairly. She was deferential to her own bosses. Rules were followed, impropriety of any kind was scrupulously avoided. Lines were never crossed. Now, in the span of one week, everything had become blurred.