by Fiona Lowe
“I can assure you this is no joke,” she said, her voice dropping to a register that would snap freeze peas, trees and everything in its path. “I’m an officer of the law, and you’re under arrest for breaking and entering. You have the right to remain silent. If you do say anything, what you say can be used against you in a court—”
“This isn’t a Juilliard audition.” Just his luck to get the wannabe-serious-actress stripper. “I know the guys are late and all this fine acting is going to waste, so I tell you what? How about you take a photo of me handcuffed and pussy whipped, which is all the guys want to see anyway, and then you can finish up early and get a jump on the long drive back to Great Falls.”
She tapped the black box on her shirt. “All of this is being videoed.”
What? It was one thing for the guys to use a photo to have some fun on Twitter, but a video was the next level, and he was putting a stop to it now. “Here’s the thing. I don’t need the lap dance or anything else they’ve paid for. I’ll even throw in an extra hundred for the footage. You can’t get fairer than that.”
Her beautiful face hardened to granite. “Walk. To. The. Car.”
He sighed. She was determined to play this thing out to the end. Well, tough. He’d just about reached his limit of what he was prepared to put up with in the indignity stakes. He’d drawn that line in the sand in middle school when Rudy Baker had pantsed him. She was mighty close to hitting that line. He wondered if the stripper spent time working as a dominatrix, because being pushed facedown in the garden bed was in his mind way over the top of what the guys would have intended as payback for him not giving them the party they wanted for his birthday. Fuck it. He was sick of this. Where the hell was everyone anyway?
With no movement in the garden, he turned to face the street, and the first thing he saw was the Bear Paw patrol vehicle. His stomach lurched, uncertain whether to rise to his throat or fall to his feet. Holy crap. The guys might have “borrowed” a spare uniform, but they sure as hell wouldn’t have been able to use the car. This woman really was a cop, and somehow in the deluge that was his post-vacation e-mail inbox, he’d missed the city hall memo.
The fact he had right on his side and she’d jumped the gun arresting him on his own property didn’t lessen the fact that he, the county’s librarian, IT guy and equal opportunity officer, had just accused the newest member of the police force of being a sex worker.
“I got your text,” Judy said as she walked back into the station waving a brown paper sack from the Big Foot diner.
Tara glanced up from her paperwork, pleased to see the older woman. Judy had been out for lunch when she’d brought the perp back to the station and placed him in the holding cell. From the moment he’d seen the patrol vehicle, he’d gone virtually silent, which had pleased her because she’d had more than enough of his crass comments about her being a stripper.
In the rearview mirror on the short ride from the crime scene and now from the cell when she’d caught him looking at her, she couldn’t help but notice the intelligence in his cinnamon brown eyes. Not that criminals couldn’t be intelligent. Heck, there were some brilliant crimes pulled off by masterminds, but this guy had been attempting petty theft in broad daylight, which wasn’t so masterful. Even so, Tara had an uneasy feeling scuttling in her veins, which was ridiculous, because although she might second-guess her personal decisions, she never second-guessed work.
Granted, this guy with his rust chinos, blue collared shirt with its fashionable faded floral pattern, suede buck shoes and retro glasses didn’t match the profile of the usual home burglar, but neither did he match the profile of most of the men she’d met in town so far. They’d fallen into distinct categories—swaggering cowboys, intense first responders, tradesmen and construction workers and jelly-bellied businessmen. This guy didn’t fit the white-trash look, either, although his truck sure did. She quickly reminded herself that thieves came in all shapes, sizes, intelligences and dress codes. This one was moderate height, lithe and surprisingly strong.
“Thanks for buying the sandwich, Judy. He’s not saying anything except that he’s hungry.”
“No problem and it’s exciting. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to buy food for a prisoner. The last time was at Christmas when Fred Eisenberg was sleeping off a bender.” She dropped the bag beside Tara, her face alight with interest. “So, who’ve you got?”
Tara sighed and tapped her pen. “I don’t know. He’s got no ID on him, and the name he’s giving me belongs to the owner of the house he was burglarizing.”
“So who’s he saying he is?”
She double-checked the name she’d written down. “Ethan Langworthy. Do you know the real Ethan Langworthy? He’s not answering his cell.”
“Sure do, and this guy’s gotta be lying because Eth would be the last guy you’d be locking up.” Judy picked up the lunch sack and headed toward the holding cells.
Relieved to hear that bit of information, Tara stood and followed her with the swipe card for the cell. She’d only taken five steps when she heard Judy’s laugh—high-pitched, loud and long—echoing down the hallway.
“Yeah, it’s hilarious, Judy,” she heard the prisoner say, his tone a perfect deadpan. “And a hell of a birthday present. So pass me lunch and then go tell the overzealous officer who I am.”
A whoosh of sickening adrenaline shot through her, making every cell shiver with dread. Oh God. What had she done? Forcing herself to keep walking, she went and stood next to Judy, who was now doubled over with laughter and clutching the bars of the cell for support.
“Tara,” she spluttered between fits of giggles. “This is the funniest thing that’s happened in the department in ten years.” Another burst of laughter rocked her. “You’ve just locked up . . .”—she collapsed in raucous laughter—“. . . Bear Paw’s librarian for . . .”—she fanned herself with her hand as she tried to suck in a breath in between rafts of hysterical chortling—“. . . breaking into his own house.”
Please, no. Tara wanted to go back in time to the moment before she’d seen a pair of long legs sticking out of a basement window. To a time before she’d let her own gut be overshadowed by the sheriff’s warning that crime was alive and flourishing in Bear Paw. To a time when she wasn’t begging for something to happen in this too-quiet town that let her own thoughts get too loud, but flights of fantasy didn’t solve a damn thing, and she’d known that since she was twelve. She’d screwed up big-time.
Show no weakness. Despite not wanting to, she found herself raising her gaze to Ethan’s, expecting to read triumph and revenge. Instead, she saw relief and something else that was a lot less defined. It involved wariness, but there was an element of warmth to it as well. That shocked her. If she was in his position, she’d be furious and wanting blood.
Judy’s laughter slowly subsided, and just as Tara was sliding the swipe card to open the cell door, she noticed Judy had her phone in her hand.
“What are you doing?”
Judy didn’t look up, but her fingers flew across the smartphone’s keyboard. “Putting this on Twitter.”
“No!” she yelled as Ethan’s equally emphatic but deeper objection rolled over hers.
Judy looked genuinely surprised at their chagrin. “But it’s funny. Besides, Ethan’s used to this sort of thing going up on Twitter, aren’t you, Eth?”
To the untrained eye, the librarian didn’t react to the question, but Tara noticed the almost imperceptible ripple of tension roll through his body. His jaw, which was surprisingly square, stiffened slightly. And then it was gone.
“It’s not me I’m worried about, Judy,” he said in an even and well-modulated voice that reminded Tara of the soft touch of velvet. “But is it fair to Officer . . . ?” He glanced toward her name badge, which was pinned just above her breast, and then, as if staring at her chest was an offense, he snapped his head away so fast Tara thought she heard a click. “I don’t believe you introduced yourself when we met.”
“Yes, Officer Ralston’s been overenthusiastic in her upholding of the law in her first week, but if this gets out, you know it’s going to make it impossible for her to be taken seriously by the town.”
Tara had to stop her mouth from falling open. She couldn’t believe after what she’d done to him that he was stepping in to pinch hit for her. No one did that. Ever.
“That’s true, but . . .” Judy gave Tara a conflicted look. “This is just too delicious not to spill. It’s going to kill me to stay quiet.”
I’ll kill you if you post it, Tara thought, gearing up to give a warning about confidentiality and risking losing the goodwill of the one person she needed on her side. “The sheriff won’t want the department to be seen in a bad light.”
“Okay.” Judy sighed. “I won’t put it on social media.”
Her words did little to reassure Tara, because in a town this size, gossip flew around fast anyway. Social media only sped things up by about twelve hours.
Ethan took off his glasses and then, as if he was in pain, rubbed the bridge of his nose before sliding the frames back on his face. “What if I give you a replacement story with a promise that you keep this one completely confidential?”
Judy laughed. “Eth, we already know all of your dumb stuff.”
“You only know what happens in Bear Paw.”
Judy’s eyes sparkled at his quiet and resigned words. “Tell me.”
His Adam’s apple moved slowly up and down his firm throat. “Last week when I was on vacation and visiting my cousin in Missoula, I was the emergency player on his soccer team.”
Judy burst out laughing all over again. “Oh, I can feel this is going to be good.” She turned to Tara and by way of explanation said, “Eth’s not the most coordinated person when it comes to sports. How many times did you get hit by the ball in Little League?”
Tara clearly remembered how he’d gone from facedown and handcuffed in the dirt to standing on his feet without any assistance. Ball sports may not be his area of expertise, but he was far from uncoordinated.
“Do you want the story?” Ethan asked with the barest hint of heat in his voice.
“Of course I do,” Judy said, returning her attention to him.
“I have video footage of me kicking a goal, pulling up my shirt and doing, among other things, a victory airplane lap in front of my bewildered team before the umpire pointed out that I’d kicked it in our goal.”
Judy clapped and said to Tara. “Now that’s a perfect Ethan story.” As she hurried off to answer the now ringing telephone, she called back, “E-mail it to me as soon as Tara releases you.”
That left Tara alone with the man she’d wrongfully arrested and feeling excruciatingly uncomfortable. She wasn’t used to feeling that way, because at work she always knew what she was doing. There were rules. There were protocols. Today, none of those gave her any guidance, and Ethan wasn’t helping.
She’d been expecting a complaint from him—one against her for wrongful arrest. She still did, and this video thing just muddied the waters, making her suspicious. None of it made any sense, so she made a preemptive strike.
“I wish to apologize for the misunderstanding, Doctor Langworthy. Where I come from and based on my experience, people don’t generally break into their own homes.”
“I don’t generally break into mine,” he said, his tone softly ironic. “I guess it was my lucky day that the one time I got locked out, you were driving past.”
He rubbed the light brown short beard stubble on his jaw in a contemplative way and his warm and gentle gaze caught hers. “Now that you’re working in Bear Paw, I must remember that the hour between twelve and one is a dangerous time of day.”
She had a crazy urge to smile, but she squashed it. This was serious. This was work, and she still hadn’t figured him out. “You’re free to leave whenever you wish, Doctor Langworthy.”
“And here I was thinking how nice it would be to spend the rest of my birthday in a cell.” His lips twitched before his mouth curved into a wry smile.
How had she missed that he had such a friendly mouth?
You were too busy being outraged that he’d called you a stripper.
Oh yeah, there was that.
“Many happy returns, sir.”
“Call me Ethan.”
“I’m on duty, Doctor Langworthy,” she said, retreating behind the badge like she always did with men. With everyone.
“Well, when you’re off duty, please call me Ethan.” He looked at her expectantly, as if he was thinking she’d say, And you can call me Tara.
That wasn’t going to happen. Life had taught her to be cautious with people, and she was Officer Ralston until she got to know them. Really know them. She didn’t know Ethan Langworthy from Adam. Granted, she’d run a routine check on him and the worst thing she’d discovered was that he’d been issued a speeding ticket four years ago. He’d paid it on time. Still, there were three other levels of checks she could still do to find incriminating evidence.
Feeling discombobulated under the scrutiny of his open and friendly gaze and wanting him to leave, she picked up the bagged lunch Judy had left on the floor when she’d dissolved in laughter. She thrust it at him. “Please enjoy lunch courtesy of the department.”
“I’m overwhelmed with the police department’s generosity,” he said with a smile in his voice as he accepted the bag.
He turned as if he was about to walk past her, and she breathed in the odor of garden mulch and pure soap that emanated from him. Flutters of relief moved through her that he was finally leaving.
He didn’t move. “It’s my birthday . . .”
What do you want? “So you said, Doctor Langworthy,” she said coolly.
“I want you to know that’s the reason why I said you were . . .” His gaze fell to the floor before he hauled it back to her face, the wariness back in place. “Why I jumped to conclusions about you and added to the craziness of the last hour.”
The genuine regret in his voice was unexpected. “I think we’re both guilty of that today.”
“We are,” he said in his quiet and musical voice, his wariness vanishing. “I’ve been on vacation, and I didn’t know the town had hired a new police officer.”
“The ‘Welcome to Bear Paw’ interview appears in the paper tomorrow.”
“Timing,” he said wryly.
“Exactly.” She didn’t know what else to say.
He ran his hand across the back of his neck, as if he was working out what to say next. “Given you’re new to town and it’s my birthday, you’re very welcome to come to Leroy’s tonight, which I can promise you is a stripper-free zone.” His eyes warmed to the rich color of toffee. “A few of us are getting together for a quiet—and I do stress quiet—celebration, and a buddy of mine, Ty Garver, is playing guitar. It’s casual and relaxed and it would be an opportunity for you to meet a few people.”
Keep a professional distance. “Thank you for the invitation, but with the sheriff on sick leave—”
“Of course,” he said hurriedly, as if he didn’t want to hear the rest of her explanation. Something flickered in his compelling eyes, and his friendly smile dimmed as he raised the sandwich sack in salute. “I best get back to work and leave you to yours. Good afternoon, Officer.”
As he walked away from her, and despite all her misgivings, she had the crazy urge to call out, Tara.
Chapter 5
“So, Millie, dear, any nice young men studying medicine with you?” Doris Peterson was at the clinic having the dressing changed on what was a very recalcitrant ulcer on her lower leg.
It was Friday afternoon, almost a week after the wedding, and Millie was coming to the end of her first week back at the clinic. For the last four and half days, she’d been fielding many different versions of the
same question from her patients, whether they be her contemporaries, her parents’ colleagues or Bear Paw’s significant senior population. Everyone was keen to hear if she’d met someone while she was at grad school. “There are some perfectly nice young men, Doris.”
Doris sighed. “But not one for you.”
Millie shook her head in silent answer as she tried to shift from her mind the picture of a shirtless Will propped up on pillows in her bed eating bacon and eggs. Eating them slowly and savoring each mouthful like it was ambrosia. It was only a short, sharp and quick leap from that delectable visual to her wondering if his mouth savored a woman’s mouth in the same slow yet thorough way.
A flash of heat zipped through her from head to toe, and she swallowed hard, giving herself an imaginary slap before pulling her concentration back to Doris. Five days had passed since she’d lied to Will about having plans and had virtually pushed him out of the guesthouse. The only plan she’d had was to avoid spending any more time with him. This meant she’d stayed hiding in the guesthouse until Bethany had tweeted in the midafternoon, Aussie doctor has left Bear Paw. Did the woman have a camera on the city limits sign? Given her next tweet—Who got lucky last night?—she fortunately didn’t have a camera or a spy in Millie’s part of town.
“Doris, you’ve got some pink skin at the edges, here and here.” She indicated with the tip of the dressing forceps.
The older woman peered where she was pointing. “Is that good?”
“It’s better than good. It means we’re winning and we’ve got this ulcer on the run.”
“We’ll run it far out of town,” Doris said with relief before countering with, “It’s not that I don’t like coming in to see Doctor Josh and the other nurses each week . . .”
“But you’ve got better things to do with your day,” Millie said, finishing the dressing. “Make another appointment for next week. Bethany can book you on the clinic bus if you need transportation.”