by Jenny Penn
“And you certainly haven’t been of any help, either,” Brandon muttered, knowing that he was being a dick.
The hole he found himself in wasn’t Dylan’s fault, but he still couldn’t help but feel as if the other man was set against him. He knew how Dylan felt about relationships. He was allergic to them and considered love like a disease. How then could he even begin to understand what it was like to fall so hard, so fast, and end up so miserable?
“That’s where you are wrong, my friend.” Dylan turned to lean in closer and drop his tone, assuring nobody else heard him. “I just had the most enlightening cup of tea with Mr. and Mrs. Harold.”
“You what?” Brandon froze, feeling his heart seize, his lungs following suit and making it almost impossible to even get out a whisper. “What did you do?”
“Had an enlightening cup of tea,” Dylan repeated before correcting himself. “Actually it was a horrible cup of tea. Hot. Who drinks tea hot? I’ll tell you who, people who put plastic on their seats.”
“Dylan.” Brandon was breathing hard now, hard enough that it was still hard to speak.
That was okay. He didn’t know what the hell he would say. He really just wanted to hit Dylan, but his limbs felt too heavy, and his mind was still reeling with shock.
“And I scored an invite to church.” Dylan grinned, an evil, mischievous twist of the lips. “Wanna come?”
Brandon keeled over, hitting his head against the counter three times before letting it rest there as he focused on taking several deep breaths. He couldn’t kill Dylan. Not at a police station. Maybe later.
“What?” Dylan blinked at him innocently as Brandon turned his head to glare up at his best friend. “I’m helping.”
“You’re being a dick.”
Dylan paused as he seemed to consider that before heaving a heavy sigh. “Look, man, you know how I feel about relationships and women like Kristen, but it’s clear you feel differently. So, if this is your play, then I’ve got your back.”
That had Brandon straightening slowly up as he studied his friend. “What’s the catch?”
“There’s no catch,” Dylan assured him, a faint hint of insult sounding in his tone, but Brandon knew Dylan better than that.
He knew better than to believe the innocent look Dylan was trying to sell him. The bastard had joined the high school drama club just to get chicks and then ended up learning a whole new set of skills that had allowed him not only to bluff well at poker but to also lure girls to the dark side.
“Oh, there is always a catch.” Brandon was certain of it.
“Well, I mean, wherever you go, I go, right?” Dylan blinked over at him, clearly biting back a smile and leaving no doubt as to what he was thinking.
“You have got to be kidding me! Are we back to that?”
Brandon said that a little too loudly, drawing the attention of the other deputies as they all eyed them suspiciously. He lowered the volume as he leaned in to whisper furiously at Dylan.
“You can’t really think we’re going to share Kristen.”
“Why not?” Dylan shrugged. “We’ve shared everybody else.”
“Nobody like Kristen, though,” Brandon insisted. “She’s different.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Dylan smiled. “We won’t know until we try.”
“Dylan⎯”
“Look.” Dylan cut him off, his tone hardening into a sound of serious intent. “You can work with me or against me, but I’m not stopping.”
“Didn’t you hear the sheriff?”
“Fuck the sheriff.” Dylan snickered. “And don’t even play that line with me because I know you’re not stopping, and you know together we are undefeatable. So you coming to church, or not?”
Chapter 9
Wednesday, May 14th
“Are you sure about this?” Gwen frowned as she stared at the small moped Kristen was admiring. “Wouldn’t you rather get a new one? I already told you I could float you the money.”
“Yes, but I would rather be in debt for only five hundred dollars instead of a few thousand. Besides, this one is already painted pink.” Pink was Kristen’s favorite color.
She and Gwen had, at least, that much in common. They had a little more than that, actually, because Gwen had showed the true kindness of her heart when Kristen had mentioned the idea of getting a scooter to get around. The idea had come to her after enduring one of her mother’s long lectures about the sanctity of worship.
Apparently, she’d heard that Kristen hadn’t gone to church on Sunday. This Sunday she was going with her mom and dad. If she didn’t want to get stuck spending Saturday night at their house, she either had to come up with a ride or get herself a set of wheels.
Kristen really didn’t want to spend Saturday night playing gin with her mom. Cybil had already invited her to go dancing down in Dothan. Kristen didn’t know how to dance, but Cybil had assured her they’d all be lined up in a row and she would be able to easily follow along.
That meant she needed a set of wheels, which she needed anyway for school. While she’d been thinking about a car, the idea of a scooter felt so much more her. It even came with a pink helmet.
“I want it.” Kristen smiled at the man who stood on the other side. His name was Petey, and he smelled kind of funny. “I’ll give you three hundred dollars.”
“Five.” The man held firm.
“Don’t you think you should try driving it first?” Gwen suggested.
“Four,” the man readjusted instantly.
“What if it doesn’t even run?”
“Three fifty and only if it rides out of this drive.”
“Three seventy-five and it’s in perfect shape.”
“Three seventy-five.” Kristen nodded, holding out her hand to shake Petey’s as Gwen sighed.
“Your mother is going to blame me if you get hurt.”
“That’s probably right.” Kristen agreed, not even wanting to consider her parents’ reaction when they saw her new ride. Instead, she threw her arms around Gwen and hugged her tight. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you! You’re the best cousin ever!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Gwen squirmed out of Kristen’s hold. “Let’s not get like that, okay? I’ve got a meeting to attend later, and I don’t need to go in all messed up.”
Kristen released her to step back, not even perturbed by Gwen’s complaints. She knew what a meeting meant. Gwen had a lot of meetings, but that was none of Kristen’s business. Instead, she focused on trying on her new helmet as Gwen pulled out a wad of cash and started counting out the hundreds.
The sight didn’t bother Kristen in the least. Neither did the fact that she was now in debt. Gwen clearly made good money, and Kristen was expecting that her paycheck would be nice enough to afford her to pay off her cousin in just a few months. It would be worth it for the freedom she was purchasing.
“You want instructions on how to ride?” Petey offered as Kristen tucked her skirt between her legs and stepped on to her new scooter.
He didn’t wait for an answer but quickly went through the controls before sending her on her way. Gwen headed off, too. She had a meeting to attend, and Kristen was headed to the bakery for a little celebratory dessert. She was skipping dinner that evening and going straight to the pie.
* * * *
“You got me stuck on the night shift,” Brandon sulked as glared across the table at Dylan.
“I didn’t do anything,” Dylan said, defending himself, not about to take the blame for Brandon’s bad turn of luck. “Go blame Charles for getting sick.”
“I’m blaming you because otherwise Killian or Adam would have been chained to that damn desk. It’s so God-awful boring.”
What was boring was listening to him complain. That was getting old fast as far as Dylan was concerned. If this was what Brandon was going to be like without Kristen, then Dylan really had to rethink his stance on his friend being better off without her.
As if summoned by his very thoughts, the woman making Dylan’
s life hell puttered past the Bread Box’s front window. Dylan’s eyes widened as he took in what she was riding.
“Oh no.”
“What?” Brandon frowned and turned to follow Dylan’s gaze.
“No, don’t look,” Dylan warned him, but it was too late. Brandon was already flushing red.
“What the fuck was that? Was that Kristen? Was she on a motorcycle?”
“It was a scooter,” Dylan corrected him, not that Brandon was listening.
He was already out of his seat and storming toward the door. Dylan sighed, certain that the mayor would hear about whatever scene Brandon was about to cause. He was just as certainly not going to let his best friend get into trouble without him. Dropping a few dollars on the table to cover the coffee Brandon hadn’t drunk, Dylan hopped out of his seat and went chasing off after Brandon, who was already storming into the Main Street parking lot.
“What the hell is this?” Brandon came to a stop right before Kristen and splayed his arms to include the scooter she was hopping off of. Her answer came quick and with enough sharpness to impress even Dylan.
“Well, it’s certainly not the proper way to greet a lady.”
“No.” Brandon shook his head.
“No?” That had Kristen pausing with her fingers on the buckle of her helmet. She blinked in honest, sweet confusion, but Dylan felt certain he knew what Brandon had meant.
“No,” Brandon repeated himself, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re taking this thing back.”
“I am not.” Kristen puckered up so cutely Dylan couldn’t help but smile. She was actually kind of entertaining, especially when she was pissing off Brandon.
“Yes. You are.” Brandon tried his best to intimidate the little woman, but she just sniffed and turned her back on him. “Kristen⎯”
“I’m not talking to you.” She cut him off without even sparing Brandon the respect of glancing back at him.
Instead, she focused on hanging up her helmet and removing her purse from where it was strapped down on the back seat. Only then did she turn and meet Brandon’s simmering gaze.
“You, sir, are rude and boorish.” She couldn’t have said that in a prissier tone if she’d tried. “Now if you will excuse me, I don’t have time to waste listening to your pointless commands.”
With that, Kristen proudly stuck her chin in the air and walked right around Brandon. Dylan could only imagine the thoughts running through his head. He bet they were similar to the ones running through his own. They all featured Little Miss Bossy strapped down and naked, begging for more.
Just the thought had him smiling as Kristen sashayed past, and Dylan couldn’t help but turn his head to admire the sight of that prim little ass swinging beneath the heavy folds of her grandmom skirt. He was going to fuck that ass. Then they’d see how she walked after that.
“No!” Brandon’s abrupt outburst had Dylan glancing back over at his friend, who was still standing there fuming. “No!”
“Who are you talking to, man?” Dylan asked. “The woman went that way right after she dismissed you, so maybe you ought to think about lightening up your approach. Huh?”
Brandon shot Dylan a dirty look and took off after Kristen, leaving Dylan sighing and muttering to himself.
“Or maybe not. Let’s just go dig the hole deep enough to bury both ourselves in it.” Because Brandon was not going down without him.
Turning to follow Brandon back into the Bread Box, Dylan strolled back into the heavenly smelling shop. It was pretty busy, but then again, it normally was. Still, they didn’t want to be causing a scene with this many witnesses. Especially not in uniform.
Unfortunately Kristen and Brandon were already making spectacles of themselves, even if it was a silent one. She sat there in her booth with Brandon across from her, glaring hard enough to set fire to the menu Kristen held up like a shield. The sense of tension and growing expectation of an explosion already had people glancing in their direction.
It was time to diffuse the situation.
Of course, that wasn’t Dylan’s specialty. Normally he caused the situation, and Brandon diffused it. He figured he owed it to his best friend, though, to try. So Dylan joined the couple, choosing to sit next to the pretty lady instead of his steaming best friend. Kristen ignored him, too, but she didn’t manage to ignore the arm he threw over her shoulders.
“Excuse me, Deputy, what do you think you’re doing?” Frosty gray eyes turned on him with a cold blast that strangely warmed him.
She had pretty eyes and smelled like the flowers covering her skirt. Dylan could certainly see why Brandon was attracted to the lady. He surely was.
“I’m helping.” Dylan finally answered, unable to control the smile as Kristen’s frown furled with a cute look of distaste.
“Helping? And how would you be doing that?”
“By explaining a few things to you,” Dylan stated patiently before nodding toward Brandon, who looked as if he was ready to pop a vein. “See, my buddy over there, he’s an idiot.”
“On that, at least, we can agree,” Kristen shot back, but Dylan had noticed that she hadn’t shrugged his arm away or told him to move it. That had him wondering if the flush coloring her cheeks was all irritation.
“Yep.” Dylan sighed. “And he’s done something stupid.”
“He has?” Kristen raised a brow at that.
“He’s fallen for you,” Dylan confessed, receiving an instant kick under the table.
“Oh please.” Kristen rolled her eyes, appearing completely unaware of the look Brandon was now shooting Dylan.
“And when an idiot falls in love, they grow even dumber,” Dylan continued on, ignoring both Brandon’s and Kristen’s attempts to deter him. “Which is why he can’t seem to say what he’s really thinking. So, when he says no, what he’s really saying is he’s concerned.”
“Concerned?” Kristen repeated back frostily, but Dylan caught the shift in her gaze and knew that she wasn’t as cold as she wanted them to think.
She was bluffing.
“He’s afraid you’re going to get hurt. Isn’t that right, Brandon?” Dylan threw it back to his friend, hoping he could manage a decent response. He kind of did.
“You’re going to kill yourself,” Brandon barked, still seething but at least he looked more worried than mad now. “Motorcycles are dangerous things.”
“It’s a scooter.” Kristen turned the argument on him. “It doesn’t go over forty miles an hour.”
“You can still kill yourself,” Brandon insisted.
“It’s mine, and I’m not taking it back.” There was the universal tone that all women seemed born with. Kristen had just put her foot down. There would be no winning this battle. “Besides, it none of your concern…either of your concern.”
Kristen shot that at Dylan as she turned those mesmerizing eyes back on him. Dylan was wondering if they’d go clear or cloudy when she came. He’d love to see those puckered little lips gasping for breath as he made her come again and again. Once he had her limp and completely at his beck and call, he was going to take that little pout for a ride. She was so little, though, he didn’t know if she’d be able to swallow him whole.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Kristen asked, her gaze narrowing on Dylan.
Brandon knew why, and it earned Dylan another kick as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly too hard and big for his britches. That hadn’t happened in a while.
“No reason,” Dylan said smoothly as he pulled his arm back and put some distance between him and Kristen.
He needed the moment and the fresh air to get control of his unruly body, but that control escaped him. For the first time in a really long time, he couldn’t seem to will his dick down. It was rebelling.
It wanted Kristen. Normally it wasn’t so picky, which made this moment kind of alarming. Was Brandon contagious? Was he coming down with the same virus? No. That would not happen to him.
“Are you okay?” Kri
sten asked, her gaze suddenly sweetly concerned, and Dylan felt his heart pound.
“Oh shit.” This could not be happening. Not to him. “I gotta go.”
* * * *
With that, Dylan left. Brandon watched him go with a scowl, wondering what the hell had just gotten into him. Whatever it was, it was probably nothing. He was probably just playing, making a grand exit that left Kristen staring after him with a frown.
“I think something is wrong with your friend,” she suggested, seeming momentarily distracted by Dylan’s rapid retreat, which was probably the point.
“I’m sure he’ll be all right.” Brandon was certain of it.
He didn’t know if he could say the same about himself, though. Not with that damn pink scoter sitting outside. He took a breath and forced himself to sound reasonable instead of incensed as he tried to pick up on the bridge Dylan had built for him.
“And he wasn’t wrong. I am concerned.”
“I don’t understand why.”
“And that scares me even more.” It really did. “You shouldn’t ride that thing until you understand the dangers.”
“That was what I was thinking about believing you,” Kristen retorted tartly. “This is another setup, isn’t it? I’m supposed to melt with tender feelings because you care, aren’t I? Then you’ll sweep me up into an embrace that leaves me forgetting all good sense.”
“No, it isn’t,” Brandon insisted, refusing to allow himself to be distracted by the suggestion that he could make her lose all sense. He already knew that.
“Look.” He stretched forward, trying to will her to believe him. “I didn’t start that stupid competition, and I wasn’t a part of it, and it wasn’t even really about you.”
“It wasn’t?”
“No. It was about me.” He knew how that sounded and wasn’t shocked that she doubted him.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Don’t. The guys, they know that I’ve got this thing for you, and they were just taunting me is all. You have to believe me,” Brandon pleaded, never having found himself in the position of having to beg for anything but willing to lower his pride for her.