by Casey Hagen
“They’ll mind. Just watch,” the sheriff said, jutting his chin in their direction.
She had her back to them now, leaning against the counter, remote in hand, bringing up the local news. Without taking her eyes off the screen, she darted out her hand and caught Gerald’s as he crept in on Milton’s bacon.
“I know five-year-olds who have better manners than you,” she snapped.
Gerald shook his head with disgust. “Nasty little buggers. Pick their noses and eat it.”
“Yes,” she hummed in a sweet tone, “and what does that tell you?”
The sheriff chuckled as she slapped down the morning paper in front of Gerald. “I’ve got a juicy story for you on the front cover. Defense spending cut again. It’ll give you something to bitch about until your food’s done.”
A smile crept over my face again as I turned to face my mentor.
“I told you. She’s good with those two, not that she’d ever admit it. Tried to compliment her once and she got this pained look on her face. I swear she’d rather eat mud than have someone give her any sort of praise.”
“I don’t remember her. I guess she’s not local,” I said, feeling him out for information while I dug into my omelet.
“Not local. You were still in town when they arrived though,” he said, pointing at me with his fork, the sausage link bobbing on the end of it. “You might remember. Her mama was Daisy Flynn.”
“She had some sort of medical emergency, right? They didn’t get to her in time.”
“Something like that,” he said, lowering his voice, his eyes on the counter. “They found her slumped by the doors of the health center. Figured she must have been waiting for them to open, but it was too late. Diabetic coma. She died three days later.”
It happened on my first day back in town after my team won their first semi-final in Portland. But I still had two days off before I went back to work. By the time I’d clocked back in, the situation had been handled.
“Where’s her father?”
“Never could find him. Maisy doesn’t even know his name, so that didn’t help.”
“Other family?” I took a bite of the thick toast slathered with butter. Shit, I missed the food here. Not that Boston didn’t have good food, but good food meant crowds.
“None that we could find. They only landed here because this is where Daisy’s car broke down. She got a job over at the Beacon Motel and they gave her and Maisy a room to live in as part of her pay.”
Just a kid sleeping in a hole in the wall motel while her mom slipped away. Her mother probably hadn't woken her up to tell her she was running out.
The toast lost its appeal and I tossed it on my plate. “Where did she go after?”
“Where they all go at that age. Bay Wilderness.”
My jaw clenched so hard my temples throbbed with it. “But that’s for troubled youth.”
“She was fourteen and all of our foster homes were full. At least the ones in town, and she didn’t want to leave.”
“So, she chose it?” I told myself I was only seeking information, but with every new detail, my blood pumped harder and faster. I couldn’t afford to care, but I couldn’t stop myself from wanting—needing—to know more.
“In a way, yes. I would say it worked out. Who knows, might just be where she got her talents for herding stubborn old fisherman. Thanks to her keeping them in line, for the first time in ten years, Milton let that restraining order on Gerald lapse.”
“Her doing, huh?”
“Maisy’s blunt with them, but affectionate. They know if they don’t let the old shit go, they’ll lose her and she’s the bright spot in their day.”
“I haven’t seen that side of her yet.” But I saw something. Something I didn’t want to examine too closely.
She’d definitely decided where I belonged, and she was right.
Even as my mind knew keeping my distance was best, something in me just wanted to poke at her. Activate that temper.
Go head-to-head and see who came out on top.
“I don’t suppose you’ll be in town long enough to see it. She doesn’t trust easily, and we can’t seem to get you to stick around,” the sheriff said, his hard eyes settling on me.
I leaned back in my chair and turned my focus to the sunlight bathing the ripples of saltwater jumping on the surface of the ocean in a golden glow. “It’s better for everyone if I’m gone.”
The sheriff heaved a heavy sigh. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“That’s what everyone keeps saying.”
“When are you going to believe it?” the sheriff demanded with a hard rap of his knuckles rattling the table between them. The utensils on the sheriff’s now mostly empty plate rattled with the force.
Undaunted by the heat in his words, I looked him dead in the eye. “I’m not.”
“That sense of responsibility you’ve got is going to be the death of you.”
“Better than lack of responsibility being the death of others.”
Heat crept up my neck and my skin burned under the sheriff’s stare. The one man who knew all of it. The past and the present. The bad, and the downright disastrous.
Because there sure as hell wasn’t any good.
Sheriff Chase whistled low and leaned back in his chair. “You, son, are dancing with some old ghosts. You’ve gone back in time, clean past the accident and straight on back to your brother, haven’t you?”
Ah, there was the sore spot, always festering. Always making me wonder what the outcome would have been if I’d done something different.
If I’d been different.
“Wouldn’t you?”
“You were a kid, and your dad was a coward.”
“So was I, but I moved on. Made a life here just like you all said I should. Just like you all convinced me I deserved,” I hurled the words at him, resentment wrapped around my heart for the way I let them all convince me I deserved more. Could be more.
I wouldn’t fall for it today.
Not ever again.
The sheriff shot daggers at me with his narrowed eyes, but he couldn’t scare me. I’d seen far worse than him.
“I had the start of a solid career I could be proud of on a small-town police force. I got involved with my community, with my heritage, and you know how that all turned out.”
The sheriff scraped his hand along his chin. “We have an opening coming up this spring. I was kind of hoping with Lilith having a baby I could convince you to take it, but you’re too far gone, aren’t you?”
“It’s better for the town, better for my family and my nephew if I go.”
“Nothing heals if you keep running from it, son. You’ve got to face the ugly shit. Have hard conversations. When Sanders called me, told me he was sending a boy and his baby sister our way, sending them home where they belonged, he made me promise to look out for you.”
“I know.”
“Just because he’s gone doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten. I have every intention of seeing that promise through.”
“In Boston—”
“You work shit hours and have no friends. You’re not living in Boston, you’re existing,” the sheriff said, glancing over at the counter where Maisy favored her good hip and flinched when she laughed at something Gerald said.
The rib.
“She took six elbows to the ribs last night.”
Sheriff Chase cocked his head and smiled. “Did she? You were there to see it?”
“I walked right into that trap.”
“You did, but it’s not like I wouldn’t have heard about it anyway. Word around town travels faster than the empanadas from that food truck over on Route One tearing through a colon.”
“What in the fresh hell is the fascination this town has with digestion all of a sudden?”
“On that note, I need to get to the station,” the sheriff said with a gruff laugh. “I’m leaving that position open for a while. You’re my first choice.”
“Not going t
o hap—”
“Don’t even bother, son. I’m more stubborn than you and I’ll win.”
I stood and reached out to shake the sheriff’s hand. “I’m paying for breakfast then.”
“Joke’s on you, I’m going to let you.” The sheriff’s hand fell away, and he glanced up at Maisy and tipped his hat. “You get some rest now, Maisy Jane. Tell Scooter he outdid himself with the omelets.”
“Will do. Stay safe out there,” she said, giving him a quick smile.
“Always.”
Mayhem crossed her arms and tapped her foot, her temperature cooling a good forty degrees with the sheriff’s retreating back. “Anything else I can get for you?”
“The check.”
“Done.” She reached for the order pad tucked into her jeans pocket, wobbled, sucked in a jagged breath, caught her balance, and slapped the receipt on the table.
Fucking hell. “Tell me about the rib.”
She flicked me an irritated glance, all but telling me to fuck off with her wary eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with my rib. Now, if you ask me about my back, that’s a whole different story.”
“Show me.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” she said with a snort.
I reached for her arm before she could storm off. “You have a chiropractor?”
She glanced down at my fingers wrapped around her elbow. “Of course. I also have a money tree growing out my ass. Wanna see?”
“Cute.”
“That’s unfortunate, I wasn’t trying to be.”
“I’ll dismiss it as the pain talking and not your glowing personality.”
“Or you could just call it what it is. I don’t like you,” she spat back.
“Most people don’t.”
“Now that I believe.”
With two fingers tucked between my lips, I blew and let out a whistle that had every patron turning our way. Not really my intention, but that was the only way to get Scooter’s attention.
The retired fisherman popped his head up in the pass and glowered. “What?”
“Maisy’s taking five.”
“She’s the only one out there.”
“Ahh, let her go. We can get along for a few minutes,” Milton said with a wave of his hand as he sipped away at his coffee.
“Five minutes. That’s it,” Scooter said, pointing his greasy spatula at us through the pass.
“Come on.”
“You’re nuts.”
“And you’re maddening. Now move it.”
“Yes, Coach,” she said with a roll of her eyes. But I noticed the way her steps faltered with the snide comment.
Because…the rib.
I was going to take care of that sucker and say farewell to Mayhem once and for all.
I led her through the side exit the employees used. The same one I used for a year washing dishes as a teenager here at night, when the menu switched from gut-busting breakfasts to fried fish and seafood fresh from the ocean.
The spring-loaded door slammed shut behind us, reminding me of all the times I used to cut out here to kiss my girlfriend, Shelby.
Okay, putting that memory away now.
I gave the railing a hard shake to make sure it was solid. Falling fifteen feet to the lower parking lot, probably not the help she was looking for.
Not that she wanted any help, but she sure as hell was going to get it, whether she liked it or not.
She hugged herself against the cold. “This is how I die, isn’t it?”
4
“Are you ever not a smart-ass?” he said, cutting me with a hard glare from warm brown eyes that crinkled at the corners.
Brown fucking eyes like melted chocolate, with threads of caramel swirled in. Eyes of a languid lover smoldering with heat and promise.
God, I hate that I noticed. And maybe that was my problem with him all along.
His presence.
Commanding attention with a heavy silence, he held it in his grasp with the silent storm raging in his eyes, making me want to get closer and run all at the same time.
Making me want to hear his secrets, but only from him so he could consume me with the way they rolled off his scathing tongue.
All starting from that metal folding chair outside the track.
If only he’d keep his mouth shut because every observation, every question, every biting reply washed over me like the frigid, unforgiving Atlantic in early February.
And that was the only reason my nipples had perked up.
The cold water.
Not the eyes.
Or the forearms. Yeah, I hadn’t forgotten those. If anything, I may have imagined sinking my teeth into them.
I flashed him a grin, my smile dialed to eat-me-fucker. “Smart-ass is the only mood I’ve got.”
Shoving his hand through his short-cropped hair, he shook his head. “One thing I didn’t miss? The attitudes.”
“I can’t begin to imagine why you even care about a pinched nerve.” I fought the urge to spin away from the gust of air sweeping through the parking lot. My Henley tee had nothing on frigid late fall air. Early December temperatures sat firmly in the mid-thirties, but with the breeze rolling in off the ocean, the chill bit into my skin leaving a bone-deep cold even the sun burning in the cloudless sky couldn’t penetrate.
“It’s not a pinched nerve,” he muttered as he snatched his jacket from his elbow. His confidence, the arrogance, it poked at me and sizzled like a brand sparking my own flash of temper.
I gnashed my teeth and swallowed the snarl that bubbled in my throat. “So, this is about being right? Aren’t you a fucking charmer? It’s my body. I think I’m the first one to know when something goes wrong in there and I’d know if it was a rib.”
Arms hanging casually at his sides, but his shoulders rigid and ready to fight, he took a step toward me, the jacket swaying from where it dangled from his fingertips. “I think you don’t know shit about your own body. If you did, you’d know it’s your rib.”
“Fine, Doc. How is it possible for it to be my rib?” I asked, hoping to give him enough rope to hang himself. There’s no way he had a hundred percent accuracy rate in the confidence department. Especially considering his history.
He snorted as if the answer was obvious. The sound, a verbal pat on the head dismissing me like I was daft. “Because you took six elbows last night playing like shit. That’s all it takes. Lucky for you, I can fix it.”
He poked at the festering wound that never really healed. I knew I let Tilly get to me. I sure as hell didn’t need him to swoop into town and point out the obvious. Every time I let her get in my head, I told myself it was the last time. But the minute our skates met the concrete in the same jam, I was right back there—seething—stuck in a constant loop of taking hits from her, some of her worst barbs whispered with poison until I was that kid again.
Alone.
Terrified.
And defenseless.
Fortunately, I had no such history with the six-foot-tall mountain of conceit smirking before me. I took a step back, glanced over the railing to the ground below, then eyed him from head to toe. “You know, forget me taking you over the railing with me. How about I just shove your ass over and be done with you?”
“You wish. More like you’re going to lean against that railing, cross your arms over your chest, and then I’m going to bend you over backwards and see how flexible you really are.”
We both froze, the suggestive words hanging between us for a beat, two beats, and three.
“That’s a whole lot of your front against my front and I’m not cool with that.” The conviction in my voice just seconds before fled entirely, abandoning me when I needed the armor the most.
“I’m not thrilled about it either.” His eyes fell away from mine and his gaze traveled over me, touching every point from my chin to my fucking feet.
Slow and intense, he might as well have reached out with a finger and danced it over every single sensitive place on the points
in between.
I wanted to cross my arms, but I wouldn’t. Fuck him. I wouldn’t let him put me on the defensive. He was the one with the tattered reputation in this town. I just needed to make sure he didn’t taint mine while he was back here doing whatever the hell he was doing.
“Why do you even care?”
“Hell if I know. Come on.” He took my arm, the heat from his palm reaching through the thin cotton to my skin.
The rough way his fingers curled around me should have pissed me off. I should have yanked my arm away, but no. After the way he eye-fucked me before, my inner lusty bitch betrayed me and leaned into the pressure while wondering what it would be like to feel the same grip on my hips, my breasts, the inside of my thigh—he was too close. Too much.
Too fucking much.
Letting me go, he tossed his jacket over the cold metal and wrapped it around the railing three times before taking both of my arms. One step at a time, eyes on mine, he backed me right up to the worn leather. The clean scent of his morning shower teased my nose and despite the heap of reasons it was the worst possible thing to do, I caught myself leaning in for more.
“What are you doing?” he asked, giving me a hard look, a whole lot like the one he shot me the night before while I was stuck to the concrete.
“Just waiting for you to show off your skills so I can get back to work. You think you can hurry it up? I don’t want to clean up bloodshed in there. Scooter doesn’t pay me enough for that.”
“I’d love to. Now, lean back,” he said, lining me up with his jacket. “Does that feel like it’s hitting the spot?”
I rocked back and forth. “Ummm, maybe?”
He cocked his head and blew out a breath. “You don’t know?”
“Well, it’s hard to te—hey!”
Stepping into me, invading every last inch of my space, he reached around, his palm landing on my lower back. “I’ll work my way up, you tell me when I find it,” he said, his voice full of impatience and vibrating against my temple.
Thank fuck he wasn’t looking me in the eye right now because my body had decided to take complete leave of all sense and zero in on the heat radiating from him, the pressure making tracks along the edge of my spine, and the sound of his breath way too close to my ear.