by Kaylea Cross
He made a sound to let her know he was listening and kept moving the armoire into place, even though he thought her expectations were totally unrealistic and were bound to lead to disappointment.
“What about your parents? Are they still together?”
And here was yet another instance of them being opposites. “Divorced when I was a kid.” Another reason he wasn’t a big believer in true love and soulmates or whatever.
Her encouraging smile fell. “Oh.”
He didn’t like that he’d made her smile disappear. “My mom moved me down here right after. My half-sister lives with our dad in Kelowna, B.C.”
“Are you close with your mom?”
“I was.” He glanced away. “She died of breast cancer last fall.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She sounded horrified.
He nodded but didn’t say anything else. The loss was still pretty fresh and he didn’t like talking about it. “This okay?” he asked, straightening and stepping back from the armoire. The meds Avery had given him weren’t really helping. A bitch of a headache was pulsing in his temples and the back of his head.
Her grateful smile hit him right in the chest. “Perfect, thanks. I really appreciate your help. This would have taken me forever.”
“It’s no problem. Anything else?” He should go.
“No, that’s it. What can I get you as a thank you?”
“Nothing. Seriously, it’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it.”
“But I’d like to.”
She looked so sincere. And almost hopeful. He didn’t have the heart to dismiss it again. “Then I’ll think about it.”
“Good.”
She looked even more beautiful than she had five minutes ago. He really needed to leave. “Well, I’m gonna head home, then. Nice to meet you finally. Guess I’ll see you around.”
“Yes. Have a good night.”
She followed him out, even walked around the side of the house with him, and waved as he drove away. His last sight of her was as she turned away in the rearview mirror.
It wasn’t his last thought of her, however. Tate couldn’t get her out of his mind, even after he was home alone in bed. Even though he tried to stop thinking about her.
Even though they were opposites in almost every way and it would never work out between them.
Chapter Five
Tate pried his eyes open when his cell rang on his bedside table the next morning. Avery. “Hey,” he mumbled, still half-asleep as he squinted at the logs and chinking in the wall beside his bed. Damn, he was sore. “What’s up?”
“We’ve got a call. Since you don’t have wheels at the moment, I’m on the way to get you.”
It was seven in the morning on a Saturday. Curt had taken the truck in last night. “Was there a murder?” It was the only reason he could think of to warrant a response in Rifle Creek at this time of the morning.
“Your neighbor’s apparently been terrorizing the area again by, quote, ‘holding a shooting spree in the middle of the night.’ You and I are supposed to deal with it ASAP.”
Tate groaned and flopped back onto his pillow. “Curt?”
“Who else?”
He closed his eyes and sighed. “Let me guess, Mrs. Engleman filed the complaint.” The elderly widow was a recent addition to Rifle Creek and wasn’t shy about letting the Sheriff’s Office know when something bothered her. Which was often. And mostly pertained to Curt, whose rear property line abutted hers.
“Yep. Can you call him and get his side of things before I get there? It’ll save us time.”
“Yeah, all right. How long do I have?”
“Seven minutes. But only because I’m stopping to get you coffee on the way.”
“You’re a goddess.”
“I know. Now call him. I’ll be there soon.” She ended the call.
Tate dialed Curt, taking stock of all his aches and pains while he waited for his neighbor to answer. Damn, he was sore through his neck and shoulders and down either side of his spine. “Hey, Curt, sorry to call so early.”
“No, it’s great timing,” Curt answered in his usual brisk way. Pneumatic tools buzzed in the background. “Figured I’d get an early start on your truck.”
“That’s great.” He rubbed his eyes. “Listen, I’m calling about something else. The department got a complaint from—”
“That damn woman. I guess she’d rather lose her precious powder puff of a lapdog and her chickens to the coyotes, then?” Curt snapped. “That damn woman became the bane of my fucking existence the day she moved in behind me. I’ve lived on this land since nineteen-eighty-one, and never had any trouble with a single soul until her. She’s the problem, not me.”
Okay, well, be that as it may… “Can you give me your side of the story? It would help to know before I go talk to her.”
Curt huffed out a frustrated sigh and relayed his version of events. They were as Tate expected. “Okay, thanks. I’ll make a note of all that in the official report.”
“Listen, just tell her to remove that stick up her ass and wake up to reality. This is the wild Rocky Mountains, not suburban Atlanta. Damn clueless snob, like she’s some Southern belle looking down her nose at me like I’m a redneck.”
Yeah, no, Tate wouldn’t be telling her any of that. “But you are a redneck.”
“And proud of it!”
“I know. I’ll handle this, see if I can explain everything and get her to agree not to pursue charges.”
“Charges? Jesus Ch—”
“I’ll do my best, okay? If we need anything further from you, I’ll let you know.”
“You do that. In the meantime, I’m gonna go bang out some dents in your truck.”
The line went dead before Tate could answer.
He hauled himself out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, then grabbed clothes from his closet. At the brisk knock on his front door he hurried to answer it, wincing as he tugged his shirt over his head.
He pulled the door open to find Avery standing there with two coffee cups in hand. The sun was barely up, its rays casting a faint glow on the top of the roof across the street behind her, and the soaring peaks of the mountains beyond. “Morning,” he muttered.
She winced in empathy. “Ooh. Rough night?”
“Sort of, yeah.” Even with some extra-strength pain relievers before bed, he still hadn’t slept well. He was surprised how sore he was from the impact.
She thrust one of the cups at him, along with two pills. “Here. Let’s go.”
“Thanks.” He followed her out to her vehicle, inhaling the rich scent of the coffee to push the lingering fatigue from his brain.
“How sore are you?” Avery asked as she pulled out of his driveway.
He took the pills with a swallow of coffee. “I’m okay.” He just needed another few hours of sleep and a long, hot soak in the hot tub after. “They seriously couldn’t find anyone else to deal with this?”
“Nope. A lot of people are still away for summer vacation, so we’re still short-staffed.”
He grunted and sipped at his coffee. “What’s her story?”
“She says Curt shot at her dog and chickens.”
Tate shook his head. “He didn’t. And this bullshit has been going on for weeks.” Mrs. Engleman’s constant stream of complaints ranged from annoying to ridiculous, but this was the first time Tate had been directly involved in an official capacity. Usually he just got a frustrated rundown from Curt across the fence.
“Nope. She was pissed right off, demanded the office send someone out first thing this morning. So, here we are. Lucky us.” Avery shot him a fake smile and turned the corner to take them past the length of Curt’s property.
Tate groaned. “This is why I stopped being a beat cop the second I could.”
“Oh, stop whining. It’s Rifle Creek, not the mean streets of inner-city Chicago. We’ll go, hear her out, do our job, then I’ll drive you home and you can cra
wl back into bed.”
He’d never be able to get back to sleep now. Part of his military training that would never go away. Once he was up, that was it.
Two minutes later, Avery pulled into Mrs. Engleman’s driveway and parked in front of the tidy little yellow bungalow. Multicolored flowers burst from hanging baskets and window boxes all around the front of the house. The emerald green lawn was so perfect it looked like the height had been measured with a ruler.
Tate rapped on the front door as Avery came up beside him on the front porch. Brisk footsteps came toward them, then the door swung open. Mrs. Engleman stood there dressed in slacks and a blouse with her gray hair and makeup done to elegant perfection, looking like she’d been up for hours.
“Good morning, officers.” The hint of a drawl colored her voice.
Tate didn’t bother correcting her that they were detectives. “Morning, ma’am. We understand you filed a complaint about a disturbance last night?”
“Yes. Please come in.” She abruptly turned away and led them into the house. Tate and Avery followed after her, the scent of baking wafting from the kitchen. Everything in sight sparkled and gleamed, not a single item out of place. “I made banana bread this morning if anyone would like some, and maybe some coffee?”
He’d love some homemade banana bread, but this wasn’t a social call and he didn’t want to stay any longer than necessary. “No, thank you. Can we sit so you can tell us what happened?”
“Of course.” She led them into her neat-as-a-pin living room and waited for them to be seated on the sofa.
The little white powder puff of a dog Curt had mentioned was perched on the love seat across from them and immediately scrambled into Mrs. Engleman’s lap when she sat. It had a pink collar studded with jewels.
“You’re aware that the rear of my property adjoins Mr. Larsen’s?” she began.
“Yes. I live next door to him,” Tate said, taking out a notepad to jot things down for the official report.
Mrs. Engleman’s perfectly-shaped eyebrows rose. “Do you? Well, then you know what a menace that man is.”
“I—”
“In spite of my polite requests that he refrain from doing so, he repeatedly patrols his property at night with a rifle and takes potshots at things. Last night when I took Bella out to do her business before bedtime, he shot at her.”
“Mrs. Engleman, what makes you think he was targeting Bella?”
“He absolutely did,” she said indignantly, her pale eyes flashing as she cuddled her dog to her. “Scared us both half to death. Now Bella’s afraid to go outside. She had an accident this morning by the sliding door for the first time since we’ve been here, because she refused to go into the yard. She’s traumatized, and frankly, so am I. No one has taken my complaints seriously yet, but now that man needs to be dealt with. I demand y’all do something about this. It’s unacceptable.”
Tate shot Avery a look to tell her to take over, trying to be patient. Mrs. Engleman was brand new to country and mountain life. This was an alien environment for her, and he could understand why she was so upset about this. But while Curt was a lot of things, and a little eccentric, he wouldn’t terrorize an old woman and her pet.
“We’ve already talked with Mr. Larsen about the incident,” Avery told her. “He says he was shooting at some coyotes he saw wander onto your property last night, and the times match.”
Mrs. Engleman’s gaze cooled. “He can claim whatever he wants. But I believe that shot was a warning to both of us. Sometimes when Bella goes outside, she barks. He shot when she barked last night. And he’s shot at my chickens before too. Now they won’t lay.”
“Mrs. Engleman,” Tate said, unsure how to convince her that she had this all wrong. “I’ve only lived in the neighborhood for a few months longer than you. I know living next to Mr. Larsen takes some getting used to. You’re aware that he owns a hobby farm of sorts?”
“Yes. What of it?”
“And that he’s really protective of his goats?”
She blinked. “Goats?”
“Fainting goats.”
Her eyebrows hiked up toward her hairline. “I beg your pardon?”
Okay, fainting goats weren’t all that common, even out here in the mountains. Tate drew a breath and explained what they were, and that they tended to stiffen and even fall over when startled.
When he finished, Mrs. Engleman stared at him in disbelief. “Yet he goes around shooting at things in the middle of the night, making all his precious pets topple over and therefore even more vulnerable to predators?”
She had a point. “It’s exactly because they’re so vulnerable that he takes their safety so seriously.”
“Even so, he can’t run around with a weapon like a maniac, shooting at every threat he thinks he sees. This is a community, not the wilderness.”
“I understand your concern. But let me add that Mr. Larsen isn’t breaking any laws by protecting his property—and yours. We’re outside of the city limits, so what he’s done isn’t a violation of any firearms laws. He’s also an expert shot and served three tours in Vietnam in an elite special operations regiment.”
Tate had hoped the intel would make Mrs. Engleman feel better, but she didn’t react.
Avery nudged his thigh with hers, urging him to continue. “I understand how hearing nearby gunshots in the middle of the night would be unsettling for you, especially if you thought your dog was the target. But I know Mr. Larsen well. He’s an animal lover, and I can assure you if he’d been aiming at Bella, you wouldn’t be holding her right now.”
Rather than comfort her, Tate’s words made Mrs. Engleman gather Bella tighter to her. “Is that…supposed to reassure me?”
Yes. Yes, it is. “I just meant that you and your animals are actually safer with Mr. Larsen on patrol at night. He’s watching out for you and your property because you’re his neighbor.”
Avery nodded. “He’s right, ma’am. And to err on the side of caution, I don’t think you should let Bella outside at night at all without you having her on a leash. It’s really not safe. There are all kinds of predators out in these hills, especially this time of year.”
Mrs. Engleman clutched her dog to her chest, her expression full of alarm.
“Would it help if you met him on neutral ground with me there to make the official introductions?” Tate offered. “It might make you feel better if you got to know him a bit.”
“I’ll think about it. Thank you,” Mrs. Engleman murmured, far more subdued now as she continued to clutch her dog to her.
She was uncharacteristically quiet as they took their leave a few minutes later. Driving away in Avery’s car, Tate shook his head. “I almost feel sorry for her. Talk about a fish out of water.”
Avery raised a strawberry-blond eyebrow at him. “Like you didn’t wonder about Larsen’s sanity when you first moved in next door?”
“Only for a day or two. Now I like the quirky old bastard.”
“Yeah, because you’re both Corps brothers. And speaking of fish out of water, what did you think of Nina?”
He’d thought too much about her. Including a lot of hot, dirty things last night in the shower before he’d crawled into bed. “She seems nice.”
Avery shot him a censuring look. “Nice? That’s it?”
“What?”
“She’s my best friend. I want you to like her.”
“I do like her.” Probably too much.
“I just don’t want things to be weird between you guys. She’s awesome and moving here is a huge change for her. So be nice.”
“I am nice,” he grumbled. “But what’s her story?”
“What do you mean?”
“She seems a little…” He circled his wrist, searching for the right words and trying to be tactful. “I dunno, naive about life.”
Avery laughed and slowed as they came to a stop sign. “You only think that because the military and being a cop has warped your world view.”
&
nbsp; Okay, maybe he was more jaded than he used to be. Between losing his mom and breaking up with Erica last year, on top of the things he’d seen overseas and the things he dealt with every day on the job, that wasn’t a surprise.
“It just seems weird to me. I mean, the woman’s a scientist. Aren’t scientists supposed to be all about facts and evidence and math or whatever? Yet it’s like she’s got this dreamy look in her eyes when she talks about relationship stuff.”
“I love that about her,” Avery said with a fond smile.
Tate looked at her sharply, frowning. “Why?”
“That she has such a sense of wonder and an optimistic outlook on life. It’s refreshing. And kind of infectious, to be honest.” She eyed him. “Who knows, maybe some of that will rub off on us. Re-inflate our shriveled, blackened hearts.”
“Yeah, doubt it,” he said on a brusque chuckle. As she turned the corner onto his street he immediately spotted the red Jeep parked in his driveway.
“There, see? Your company wasn’t gonna let you sleep in this morning anyway.”
Mason. Tate hadn’t expected him so early, but was glad his buddy was here. “Yeah. You wanna come in for a bit and say hi?”
“Nope. I’m going home to pick up Nina and show her around town.”
“Tell her not to blink on the tour.”
“Ha, smartass.”
“Maybe Mase and I’ll see you later.” The second he got out, his front door opened to reveal Mason standing there, wearing a black cowboy hat and a wide grin on his dark-bearded face.
“Hey, man,” Mason called out. “Thought for sure I’d catch you sleeping. Was looking forward to waking you up.” A medium-sized white, black and brown dog appeared at his side, and he absently reached down to stroke its head.