Mr. Serious

by Danica Winters

  It was total dumb luck Waylon had found the paper. It was almost like the proverbial needle in the haystack, but he wouldn’t admit that to his big brother. “Hold up your hand,” Waylon said with a mischievous grin.

  Wyatt frowned, but he played along, lifting his hand and extending his fingers.

  “Oh, yep,” Waylon said. “It’s those stubby fingers that are the problem. You just couldn’t reach it.”

  Wyatt balled his fingers into a tight fist, but he laughed. “Real funny, jackass. You just got lucky and you know it. In fact, it probably got loosened up when they towed the car.”

  “Wait,” Christina said, “if you guys are done picking at each other, what is on it? Is it from Alli?”

  Waylon opened the folded page. Inside was a note in Alli’s jagged, hurried scrawl. All it said was “I’m sorry. But, William, I don’t understand. Why?”

  It was almost as if while she had been writing the note, she had been interrupted and she had stuffed it half written in the headliner. What in the hell was it supposed to mean? And why would she leave such an obscure note behind? Had she meant for them to find it, or was it meant for someone else?

  He thought he didn’t hate Alli, but in this moment, the feeling threatened to overwhelm him.

  Christina glanced over her shoulder and he could hear her breath catch.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Christina said, mimicking his thoughts. “What did she mean by ‘I don’t understand’? She’s the one who started all of this mess. She set the rules to this game.”

  He handed the note over to Wyatt. His brother shook his head and slipped it into his pocket. “I’ll get this into evidence, but I have a feeling it’s going to be just about as helpful as the straw wrappers. Do you remember William Poe?”

  Waylon had met the county tax appraiser a time or two in passing, but aside from Poe’s relationship with Alli and a brief mention of him in the newspapers thanks to the murder of his wife, Monica, Waylon didn’t know much about the man.

  Waylon shook his head.

  “Poe is like a greased pig,” Wyatt said. “Just when I think I can pin him down for something, he slips out of my grasp. I thought for sure he was involved with Bianca’s and Monica’s murders, but the guy always has an alibi. Always.”

  “And from what I hear, it usually involves politics or a woman’s thighs,” Christina added.

  Wyatt laughed. “And sometimes a combination of the two.”

  “Did you check his alibi?” Waylon asked.

  Wyatt looked at him with a raise of the brow. “Really? Dude, I’m not completely incompetent at my job.”

  He instantly regretted asking his brother such a stupid question. Of course Wyatt knew what he was doing—Waylon hadn’t meant to step on his toes, but he was just so used to working alone, or rather, being in command, that coming here and being second in line in the investigation was out of his comfort zone.

  “Boys, boys, you are both good at your jobs. Wyatt, I don’t think that’s what your brother meant,” Christina said, trying to smooth the ground between them. “Right, Waylon?” She put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.

  “Of course. Sorry, man.”

  Waylon stood up, and Christina’s fingers slipped from him. He looked back at her, and he couldn’t help but notice the way the midday sun made her normally icy blue eyes sparkle with warmth.

  He forced himself to look away and walked toward the back of the car, stopping by the rear tire on the passenger’s side. As he looked down, something odd caught his eye. “Wyatt,” he said, squatting down and pressing his finger against a deformation in the rim’s surface, “look at this.”

  Wyatt came over. “It’s just a rock chip.” But he knelt down beside him.

  “No.” Waylon pressed. “Look closer. That, Wyatt...is a bullet hole.”

  Chapter Four

  Wyatt dropped them off at the ranch so Christina could get her truck and they could set to work. She sent a quick glance over at Waylon. His copper-toned skin glistened in the midday sun, and she couldn’t help the little wiggle of attraction that rose up from her core.

  Seeing him in his element, working over the car and finding what the rest had missed, had made some of the anger she had been carrying for the man fall to the wayside. He was good at his job, and he looked even better doing it.

  This would have been so much easier if she could just stay firmly planted in her dislike. It made it easier to compartmentalize and keep him as an enemy. Yet every time he joked around, she was tempted to think of him almost as a friend.

  He turned to her as Wyatt drove off. “You sure you don’t mind driving me around? I could just borrow one of the ranch’s trucks. You don’t have to keep me company.”

  She appreciated the out, but her whole body pushed her to stay with him. “I’m doing this for Alli. I can’t stop looking just because you’re here.”

  “Have you been looking for her nonstop since she went missing last week?” he asked. A frown crossed over his face, like he was surprised she had not given up.

  “Of course. She’s my sister. I don’t have to agree with what she does, or the choices she makes, but I love her and I want to make sure that she’s safe.”

  “If she called or you found her, do you think you’d be able to turn her in to the authorities—or Wyatt?”

  She chewed on her lip. She’d already thought about that question, but she had pushed it to the back of her mind. “I need to know she’s safe first, then I’ll make that choice.”

  “Does that mean you would let her stay on the run?”

  Alli deserved to pay for her crimes. She had murdered, but Christina had to think about Winnie, too. The girl was already bearing the weight of her mother’s choices. If Alli went to prison, Winnie would have to visit that terrible place, but if Alli stayed on the run, things could be kept from Winnie until she was old enough to understand a bit better.

  “Like I said, I’ll make that choice when I’m faced with it,” she said. “All I want now is to know that she’s alive and well.”

  Waylon glanced down at his hands. “You know what? I get it,” he said, looking at his tanned and calloused fingers. “Your sister has a good heart. I don’t know why she acted like she did, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about her and what happens to her. I want her to be safe—just like you do.”

  The way he spoke about Alli was endearing and completely unexpected. Alli had never spoken of him with anything close to the same warmth. In fact, if Christina had to guess, regardless of what Alli had told her, it was not a breakup he had instigated. If anything, it seemed like he might still have had feelings for her sister when they had split and maybe even now.

  Which made the feelings Christina was starting to have for him all that much more wrong. How could she possibly be attracted to her sister’s ex-husband? There was something so daytime gossip show about the whole thing.

  She chuckled at the thought.

  “What’s so funny?” Waylon asked.

  “I wasn’t laughing at you,” she said, trying to backpedal from her bad timing. “It’s just that...” She couldn’t tell him she was laughing about the way she was starting to feel about him.

  “What?” he asked, spurring her on.

  “It’s just that I think we’re one step away from being asked to be on the Maury show.” She covered her mouth as she laughed and, as she did, the look of pain on Waylon’s face disappeared and he smiled. It was filled with a jovial warmth, and there was even a look of something else in his eyes...something that resembled attraction.

  Nope. She had to have it all wrong. There was no way he could be attracted to her.

  “I...er...” she said. There was a faint warmth in her cheeks, and she tried to keep it in check. She walked toward her truck with him a
t her side. “I don’t mean your family. Your mom and dad are great. It’s just with the murders and everything...you know.”

  He motioned that it was okay for her to stop her rambling. “It’s okay. I get it. And though my parents’ lives are in order, you and I both know the same can’t be said for the rest of us. That’s without even mentioning this thing with Alli.” He paused. “I can’t even begin to imagine what she told you about me over the years.” He glanced over at her, as if trying to gauge her reaction.

  She bit the inside of her cheek. Alli had made a personal habit of ripping her ex-husband to shreds. Alli hadn’t done it in front of Winnie as she had wanted to keep Winnie’s father’s identity a secret from her, but that didn’t change the fact that over the years, some of the things she had told Christina had begun to wear her down and made her dislike him on principle.

  “Yeah, I thought so,” he said, as though he could read her mind. “Listen, Alli and I had a tough relationship.” He said the word like it tasted of spoiled shellfish. “We never should have gotten married. I just thought that what we had was what love was supposed to be. I supported her—emotionally, mentally, even physically sometimes. It only made sense that we took the leap and made things official. But as soon as we got married, it was like a switch flipped. She went from bad to worse.”

  Christina should have been offended that he was saying her sister was bad, but she really didn’t have a platform to argue anything different. Alli made poor choices on a regular basis.

  “I thought I could handle her mood swings, but in the end—when she started sleeping with other men—I just couldn’t have her in my life anymore. We weren’t good together. We never were. It was just time that I left. She’s the reason I went back to active duty. And you know what? I’m glad that I left. It was far better than letting your sister rip my soul apart.”

  His candor came as a surprise, so much so that Christina didn’t quite know how to react. She should have stood up for her sister, yet at the same time, she could feel for Waylon. Her sister had a way of tearing down the people she loved. It was just a part of her personality, as if by pushing away the people she loved the most, she could protect herself from being vulnerable or at the mercy of others’ feelings. It was almost as though she wanted to hurt them before they had the chance to hurt her.

  It undoubtedly came from their childhood. Their parents had been emotional train wrecks—a world of constant cheating and berating. It was the reason Christina had sworn off men for the last few years. She had come too close to following in her parents’ footsteps. Not loving was just so much easier than living a life like that of her childhood.

  “Alli had her fair share of problems, and maybe a few extra, too,” she said, giving him a knowing smile.

  “I have mine, too,” he said, making the desire she was feeling for him even more intense.

  Waylon wasn’t a perfect man, but Alli had been wrong when she’d told her that he didn’t have a heart. Even now, when he had the chance to make Alli the fall guy, he took his lumps.

  She threw him her truck keys. “Remember how to get around?”

  His face pinched. “This old town ain’t that big. I think I can remember where the Poe place is.” He got into the driver’s seat and revved the old truck to life.

  Christina laughed as she slid onto the truck’s bench seat—far too close to the man who was starting to make her heart do strange things. “You got that right.” Sometimes, just like this truck, the town was entirely too small for comfort.

  “Why did you come here?” he asked as he steered the truck onto the road. “I mean, no offense or anything, but there’s so many amazing places in the world—places where anything you want is at your fingertips. Why would you, a woman in her late-twenties who could have anything—and anyone she wanted—come to a place like this and stay?”

  Did he really think she could have anyone she wanted? She almost laughed at the thought.

  The only men who had ever seemed to be attracted to her were emotional nitwits. They were just too much like her father—wanting her when it was convenient for them, and then forgetting about her when it wasn’t.

  She refused to chase another man. She wasn’t the kind of woman who pursued men and made things fit when they truly didn’t. She wanted the elusive unicorn—the kind of guy who actually made the effort, the kind who wanted her for her and not what she had between her legs, and the kind who fit into her life naturally instead of feeling like a fish out of water.

  She glanced over at Waylon as he drove. He would fit right in. It was his family’s ranch. He knew everyone. It was neutral ground and a commonality that she would have with only a few, but his passions didn’t seem to lie within the boundary lines of the guest ranch. Rather, they seemed to be following his heart all around the world—living for adventure. He seemed like the kind of guy who was far more at home jumping out of an airplane than sweeping a floor.

  He lived for his dreams.

  She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the window. If only she had the same freedoms.

  There had been a brief period of time, right after she had moved out of her mother’s house after her parents’ divorce, when she could have escaped. She could have gone anywhere in the world. At the time, she’d barely had two dimes to her name, but if she had truly wanted to get out, she could have. There was nothing holding her back—except her own fears and feelings of inadequacy. She hadn’t wanted to travel the world alone. Adventures alone were nothing compared to adventures with someone you loved—and that feeling had led her straight to her sister, and the gates of Dunrovin.

  Until now, she hadn’t looked back. Yet, sitting next to Waylon—a man who was living his dreams—Christina couldn’t help but feel like she had missed a chance of a lifetime. Now she couldn’t go—she had to think of Winnie. She had to think of her life at the ranch. Family, and the ability to support them, came first.

  The truck slowed down, and they bumped up the driveway leading to the Poes’—or rather William Poe’s—house. She still hadn’t gotten over her friend’s death. Every time she thought of Monica, she had to remind herself that she was gone. It was surreal. So many times over the last few days, she had lifted her phone to text her friend, only to remember that she was gone.

  Though everything had changed in her world, the Poes’ house hadn’t. The siding was the same gray it had been a few months ago, and the garage stood apart from the house, filled with William’s collection of cars, its walls adorned with Sports Illustrated posters of scantily clad women.

  She’d never liked stepping foot in the garage, and she had liked William even less—especially after Monica had told her about his private habits, which mostly centered on getting himself between the legs of as many women as humanly possible. How Monica had put up with it was still a mystery to her, but she’d always supported her friend. It wasn’t her place to judge her, but only to stand by her side.

  Monica’s car was parked outside, like now that she was dead, there wasn’t a place in William’s home for any of his wife’s leftovers.

  “You okay?” Waylon asked as she noticed him glancing over at her.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just made it a habit over the years not to hang out here. Monica was good about it—she normally let me meet her somewhere else.”

  “You were friends with Monica? The lady your sister...” He stopped, like he was afraid that the words your sister killed would break her once again.

  She couldn’t deny the fact he might have been right in his assumption. Even the thought of what her sister had done to her friend, and her reasons behind it, made a feeling of sickness rise up from her belly.

  “Yeah. Monica is a cool—I mean, was a cool chick. She loved to ride horses. We’d spend hours riding the trails around the ranch. Honestly, looking back, I think it was just an excuse for her not to be around h
er husband.”

  Waylon chuckled. “It’s funny how hindsight is always twenty-twenty.”

  “Is that how you feel when you look back at your marriage with my sister?”

  His face pinched slightly at the question, like he wished she hadn’t gone there. Lucky for him, as they pulled to a stop in front of William’s house, the man in question came out the door. William grimaced as he caught sight of them, and Christina would have sworn she could see him mouth a long line of curse words.

  Instead of answering her question, Waylon jumped out of the truck like he would rather face the cussing county tax appraiser than talk any more about his failed marriage.

  She couldn’t blame him. Relationships, and what came of them, were a tricky thing—especially in their case. Even as she thought about their confusing circumstances, she couldn’t help but watch as Waylon strode toward William.

  His jeans had to have been made especially for him. There was no way something that fit that well around the curves of his ass could have simply come off a rack.

  She giggled as she thought about the many web articles she had read about men who didn’t wash their jeans so they could get them to fit that way. Was Waylon among the no-wash crew? It was a random thought, but in a way it made her like him even more. It was almost as if the thought of him standing over his jeans at night and deciding whether or not they should be cleaned made him more human and less the imposing MP who had literally landed on her doorstep. More than anything, it made him real. Human. Attainable. But was he someone she really wanted to be with?

  Waylon turned around and waved for her to come out of the truck.

  She’d much rather have stayed—she had nothing to say to William Poe that she hadn’t already said. They’d had their moment together at Monica’s funeral. He had barely spoken to her or looked at her as they had stood at the cemetery, watching as people threw handfuls of dirt onto his wife’s casket. Yet, afterward, when everyone was saying their goodbyes, he’d made his position clear when he’d leaned in and said a few simple but inflammatory words: “This is all your fault.”