by Laura Wright
Cole glanced over at Deacon, brows raised.
“You don’t believe it?” Deacon asked Shiver.
The Deputy snorted, crossed his arms over his chest. “I can smell a cover-up from a mile away. Or a couple hundred miles as the case may be.”
Deacon was stunned. He’d expected a lecture on pushing for answers that’d never come. But this—
“I’m here.” James came blustering into the room. He looked and smelled like he’d been rolling in manure. And he knew it too. “Sorry about that. Having some trouble with Arnie Caborn’s new mare. What did I miss?”
“More roadblocks when it comes to Natalie’s past,” Deacon informed him.
“Total bullshit,” Cole put in.
“Hey . . .” Deputy Shiver had his laptop open and was typing furiously. Then he stopped. “This is interesting.”
“What?” James asked, coming to stand beside Deac’s chair.
“When you check family names. There’s a Detective Palmer in the precinct of the next parish over.” He looked up—and at each one of them in turn. He shrugged lightly. “Could be a coincidence . . . could be a reason for a cover-up.”
“Fuck,” Cole ground out. “I swear we’re never going to get this resolved. Cass’s life—her death . . . she deserves justice.”
Steven inhaled deeply and let it out. “It’s true that I can’t do much with the detective. Big city, out of state, doesn’t like to work with a small-town local . . .” His eyes locked with Cole’s. “But I’m taking it on anyway.”
“You are?” Deacon said, surprised.
Shiver nodded. “Yup.”
“Why?” James asked.
The man’s brow arched. “She messed with my family. Or so my sister believes.”
Deacon didn’t know what the man was talking about, but James quickly explained. He’d seen the flyers plastered all over town, had heard the talk. Hadn’t known they’d been the product of Natalie though, but clearly Deputy Shiver did.
“She’s a menace,” Cole said. “Needs to be off the street.”
“Unfortunately you can’t arrest a person for spreading gossip,” James pointed out.
“No,” Deputy Shiver agreed. “But it gives me the right to watch her like a goddamned hawk.”
Twenty-four
Dean looked at her like she was crazy instead of pregnant. “What are you talking about, Em?” he asked. “’Course you’re not fired.”
Emily had worked a long day at the Bull’s Eye and hadn’t had a chance to speak to her boss. So when her shift was nearly up, she’d headed straight for his office. She’d wanted to get everything out on the table, let him express his feelings—let him know she knew her future at the bar wasn’t clear.
“I’m sure you’ve heard,” she began, seated across from him, a small desk separating them, “. . . or seen the flyers . . .”
“I have,” he confirmed. “Whoever did that was an asshole of the first order. Any idea who it was?”
“Yes, I have an idea,” she said loosely. Even though it was more than that, she didn’t want to disclose it to her manager. The drama of Natalie Palmer couldn’t bleed into her work life. She needed it too much. “I’ve taken down every flyer I found, so let’s hope that’s that.” But even as she said the words, she wasn’t hopeful. Natalie seemed pretty determined to cause trouble. What she thought up next might even be worse.
“But it’s true?” he asked, his eyes searching her. “You’re going to have a kid?”
She inhaled deeply. “It’s true.”
He nodded, remained thoughtful for a second, then said, “I know this isn’t your ultimate goal, Emily. Working at the Bull’s Eye. I remember thinking when you came in with those flowers for every table that your ship was probably set for another port. But I want you to know that you will always have a job here for as long as you want it.”
Emily hadn’t realized just how tense she’d become until those words wrapped around her, and relief spilled through her. Dean’s kindness and his thoughtfulness touched her heart. “Thank you.”
“Nothing to thank me for,” he said. “You’re one of my best employees. Would hate to lose you.”
She gave him a grateful smile. “I appreciate that. You have no idea how much.”
“Hope they catch that creep with the flyers.”
“Me too.” She stood up. “I’m going to finish up, then clock out.”
“Okeydoke. See you tomorrow?” he asked.
“Bright and early. And by that I mean eleven a.m.” She grinned, feeling lighter than she had in days.
Dean laughed as she headed out the door. It wasn’t that she’d expected her boss to can her or look down on her, or even think she wasn’t capable of the job as she sported a belly. But she hadn’t expected that level of support, and it made her feel good, stronger, ready to tackle what came her way next. And when the time came to put in her notice, she’d be sad to walk away from the family she’d built here.
Out in the house, happy hour had hit in full force, and most of the tables were full and partying up a storm. Rae, Grady, and Kim were on, but Emily just wanted to finish up with a party of twelve, a booth, and one of the two-tops that she’d started. Both for the continuity and for the tips. Ten minutes later, she was just racing by on her way to clock out when she heard someone call out to her.
“I’ll have Rae be right with—” she started, then immediately stopped. She knew this older dark-haired woman, sitting alone, with a nervous expression on her beautiful face. She’d seen her in the street with Blue yesterday morning.
She smiled tentatively up at Emily. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“I’m Elena Perez.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve just never seen you in here before.”
She glanced around. “Never been in here before,” she admitted. “No offense. I just do all the cooking at home.”
“No offense taken.” Emily tried to tamp down the intense curiosity she felt. “Can I get you something? Are you here for dinner or . . .”
“I suppose I could try something.” She picked up her menu. “Are you going to be my server?”
“No. Sorry. I’m actually done for the day.”
Disappointment registered in the woman’s eyes and she put down the menu. The look was so similar to one Emily had seen coming from Elena’s son, it unnerved her.
“You didn’t stop by to eat, did you?” Emily asked her.
Elena looked a tad sheepish. “I was hoping to see you, actually. Talk to you.”
Oh. So she knew. Just like the entire town. Thank you again, crazy Natalie Palmer. But Emily was curious about Elena’s reaction. Had she spoken to Blue about it? What had been said? No matter what she’d told herself about last night, needing time to process, giving time to Blue to process, she still missed him. Missed his arms around her . . . sleeping beside him, against him . . . talking with him while they ate . . . while they had soup. She smiled to herself. How could one get addicted to the comfort of another person so quickly?
“I’m sorry,” Elena said, standing up. “I shouldn’t have come. I’ve done enough damage for three lifetimes—”
“Wait, no,” Emily cut in. “Please. I’m glad you’re here.”
The woman’s expression brightened with hope and surprise. “Really?”
Emily nodded. “I’m actually meeting my mom for dinner over at Mirabelle’s.” She gave the woman a hopeful smile. “Would you like to join us?”
She looked a tad stunned. “Are you sure? Having a stranger around—”
“You’re hardly a stranger, Elena.” The encouraging smile Emily gave the woman was for herself too. “You’re my baby’s grandmother.”
The woman’s lips parted and quick tears pricked her eyes. “Oh my . . .”
“Wait for me,” Emily told her with a quick touch to Elena’s arm. “Okay? Just going to change; then we can walk over together.”
* * *
Every damn muscle in his body ached. Shit, he
hadn’t been thrown from a horse in God only knew how long. He sank deeper into the cold water and cursed up a storm. Legend had it that the stream water on the Triple C land had healing properties. Blue was pretty sure that was bullshit. A joke. A prank. Put forth by one of the Cavanaugh brothers to get back at the others. But he was trying it. His thigh was bruised good, and even though the sun was setting and the water was cold, the pain was receding.
Not that he was going to be thanking those boys anytime soon. Because that would entail him telling them he’d actually taken his clothes off and sat his ass in cold, autumn creek water. And Blue wasn’t offering up that bit of comical ammunition. Especially to someone like Cole. That guy—
The sound of a stick cracking up on the hillside stole his attention and he instantly scanned the dirt and trees. For a second, he thought about getting out of the water, getting dressed. But whoever was coming was coming up fast, and he wouldn’t have time to throw on anything before they got an up-close-and-personal view of his ass or . . .
Shit, no. Unbelievable. Or maybe not. He sat up. Not in a million goddamned years would he have expected what he saw coming his way. Easy, breezy, not a care in the world. Acting like they hadn’t just had a conversation about boundaries and steering clear—acting like she belonged.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he said, his tone as cold as the water he sat in.
Natalie Palmer wore a calm, serene expression and a dark blue dress as she headed down the short incline. “You came to visit me,” she called out, the sun setting behind her. But instead of it being a pretty sight, it felt ominous. “And I’m coming to visit you.”
The woman was off her fucking rocker. “This is private property.”
She shrugged. “Again, you came to see me. On my private property.”
He hated being naked and ass-deep in river water right now. “What do you want, Natalie?”
“Just to apologize,” she said, stopping when she reached the rock with his clothes on it.
Apologize? He sniffed with derision. Hell, no. Didn’t buy that for a second. Nor the look of complete normality on her face.
“Here’s the thing, Blue,” she began, reaching out and ever so gently fingering his jeans. “It’s been hard for me. These past weeks. You and I, we had a relationship. One we both treasured. I felt like I could tell you anything—”
“Except who you were,” he interrupted harshly.
“We both wanted it that way, didn’t we? That was our agreement from the beginning. It allowed us to feel free, safe.”
He wanted to tell her he would feel safer around a starving crocodile, but he wanted to see where she was going with all this. Wanted to see if he could glean any information about Cass or the other woman who’d gone missing.
“It felt right,” he acquiesced. “At the time.”
Her eyes warmed with that little nudge of agreement. She put her hand over her heart. “So then you can’t blame me for feeling angry and stupidly spiteful when I see you with another woman.”
Off. Her. Rocker.
“What about the flyers?” he said, trying like hell to keep his tone even when what he really wanted to do was throttle her. “Are you still going to pretend you didn’t do that?”
She shrugged and looked incredibly vulnerable. “I haven’t gotten over you, Blue. I don’t work like that. Turn my feelings off so easily and quickly. I gave you my heart, and you wanted to take it. Where does that exchange go?”
When it’s all based on a fucking lie? Into the sewer, honey. He stared at her, feeling colder with every breath.
“I know you were with her that night we argued,” she continued, her chin lifting slightly. “And I forgive you. We all make mistakes.” Her eyes searched his. “Especially in the name of passion.”
Calling his night with Emily a mistake was about as idiotic as calling Natalie Palmer sane. Christ. How he had ever thought this woman—“Cowgirl”—was his match was beyond him now. A moment of his own insanity. Or . . . maybe a moment of vulnerability. At that time he’d needed comfort and acceptance—and she’d given it to him.
His gaze connected with hers, and he forced himself to tamp down his own disgust, and go down the path that might lead to answers for so many. “That night was a difficult one,” he said carefully. “Finding out you were in River Black, had been all along. Finding Cass’s diary . . . what was a man to think?” He left it hanging there. He wanted to see how she’d react, what story she’d concoct.
She shook her head. “That poor girl. You have to believe me, Blue. I didn’t do anything to her. I liked her.”
“You had her diary, Natalie.”
Her face hardened a touch. “You don’t want to believe me. You’ll never listen to my side.”
She sounded like a toddler. “I would listen.”
A soft pink blush touched her cheeks. “Really?”
He nodded.
“Okay. Well, I’d like that.” Her eyes sparkled with happiness and excitement. “We could go up to your house and talk. I’ve always wanted to see the Triple C. I’m sure I would feel right at home there. Comfortable.” She smiled. “With you.”
His fucking skin was crawling. As if he was going to take her inside his house. Not a chance. “My mother’s there. She wouldn’t leave us alone.”
“No, she’s not,” Natalie retorted. Her expression turned suddenly sour. “I just saw your mom in town. She was with . . . her.”
Blue’s chest constricted. “What are you talking about?” Was this more lies?
“Your mother was with Emily Shiver.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head.
Sensing she’d just poked an already sore subject—one that might be to her advantage if she sharpened the stick a bit—she continued. “They were at Mirabelle’s. Emily, her mother, and your mother.” She studied him closely. “Does that bother you, Blue? It seems like it does.” She pressed her lips together. “Did she go behind your back? Some women can’t be trusted. I’m so sorry. But it’s good that you found out now. What kind of person she is.”
Blue could no longer hold his ire in check. Was he concerned about Emily and his mom having dinner together? Sure. Mostly because Elena was completely and understandably fed up with him right now, and so was Emily. The mutual irritation they must be releasing could probably fuel a jetliner. But that was nothing compared to how Blue felt about the woman in front of him. She was dangerous and manipulative, and she had just insulted the wrong person.
On a curse, he stood up and, naked as a jaybird, waded out of the water and over to Natalie. He grabbed his clothes off the rock and started dressing. “You won’t talk about her in front of me ever again,” he said. “Understand?”
Natalie’s eyes were running up and down his body. Hungrily. Covetously. “Blue,” she began breathlessly. “She’s—”
“She’s the mother of my child,” he finished, tugging on his jeans.
His words made Natalie’s mouth drop open and her skin turn a ghostly white. “So the baby—”
He nodded. “Is mine.” He zipped up his jeans, then grabbed the rest of his clothes. “I’m going now. I suggest you do the same. And if you know what’s good for you, stay off this property in the future.”
Without another word, he started up the hill toward the big house. What a goddamned mess this was. Maybe Natalie would stay out of it. Maybe she wouldn’t. But first thing he needed to deal with was Emily, and the dinner she’d just shared with his mother.
Twenty-five
As the moon’s light commingled with the electric ones inside Emily’s apartment, she sat at her dining table and stared at the chart she’d created on her laptop. Her budget. Income, expenses, rent. She’d decided to visit River Black Bank tomorrow to see about a small-business loan. Aubrey had left a message on her cell phone earlier, saying she might have found the perfect place for Emily’s flower shop. A rental, a little over her budget, but maybe they could get it down?
The screen darken
ed with lack of use and she ran her fingers over the track pad to bring it back to life again. It was going to be hard to give up the dream of the space downstairs. When you plotted and planned and decorated in your head, it took some time to switch out the image. But then again, she had time.
“Emily?” a voice called outside her door.
She gasped, nearly jumped out of her chair, and went looking for a knife. Goddamn Blue. What was he thinking? She’d told him she needed time—not a heart attack. And that spare key she’d given him—the one that opened the door downstairs—well, she was going to need that back.
She stalked over to the door and yanked it back with fear-based irritation. “You just scared the hell out of me!”
“We need to talk,” was all he said as he walked into the apartment.
“It’s late—you could’ve called me,” she suggested, trying not to look directly at him. He was in a red and tan chambray shirt and jeans. His hair was all wet, his skin was tanned, and he was sporting a day’s worth of beard stubble.
Damn cowboy.
Damn gorgeous cowboy who made her heart flutter and her panties wet.
She rolled her eyes at herself.
“Yeah, I could have,” he answered, glancing around her apartment like he was looking for something or someone.
“Or texted,” she suggested.
He turned around, nodded. “Yeah, that’s real personal-like.”
If she dove at him right now, would he wrap those thick arms around her and just hold her tight? Would he tell her to tip her chin up, maybe do it himself, and kiss her? Because even though she was angry and frustrated with him, at their situation, she missed him.
No. She yearned for him.
“I’m just trying to keep you from investing too much of yourself, Blue,” she said, her tone contradictory to what her heart was feeling, what her mind wished for.
His eyes, those incredible blue orbs, drank her in. So fierce, so fraught. “So I see you had a side of sarcasm with your chicken-fried steak tonight.” He arched one black brow. “How was dinner, by the way?”