“Sorry. Phone’s out again.” She gave me an apologetic look, but this had been the system long as I could remember. “Chief! Your lunch is here!”
Flint—I refused to let myself think of him as Nash, not with the way he’d ghosted me all week—finally came striding out. “Ring—Mason.” A-ha. He had been expecting, probably hoping for, Adam.
“Your order.” I held out the brown paper sack.
“Thanks.” We stood there in front of Tammy like a pair of idiots, staring at each other.
You’re a coward, Nash Flint, I told him with my eyes while my mouth said, “You haven’t been in this week. You eating?”
“I manage,” he said. Not a coward. Just busy, his eyes flashed back.
“Well, don’t be a stranger.” Come back again? Or are you too afraid you might kiss me again? Accidentally, of course.
“I won’t.” Flint’s eyes sparked, and I wasn’t sure which question he was answering.
“Smells great,” Tammy butted in, effectively ending whatever non-conversation we were having.
“Come on in sometime,” I said to her. “Wave at me when you do, and dessert’s on me.” I had to drum up business somehow. Things were better, but we needed more consistent local traffic to survive—fretting over our bottom line was keeping me up every bit as much as obsessing over Flint.
“It’s good food,” Flint said, already backing out of the room. “You take care now.”
Dismissed yet again, I headed back to the tavern. Rather than face Adam and Logan’s ribbing in the kitchen, I started wiping down tables and straightening chairs.
The door jangled, and I looked up to find Jimmy and Lilac standing in the doorway. “Hey, Peanut!” I forced a big smile for her. “You hungry?”
“Oh, yeah. Do you have peanut butter sandwiches?”
“You need more than peanut butter in your day. I’ll have Logan do a small burger for you, okay? And some fries?” I kept ignoring Jimmy as I focused on Lilac. He’d tell me soon enough why he’d shown up, and it sure as heck wasn’t for food.
Sure enough, Jimmy coughed. “Nice of you to feed her. Appreciate it.” Oh, fuck no. Jimmy being all polite could only mean he needed something big. And of course, he had a pleading smile for me. “Think she could stay here for a bit? I’ve got some things to take care of. Chester’s got a lead on a car we might get.”
I groaned. Chester always had a lead on a piece-of-shit car. “Where’s Dad?”
“Out with Uncle Gunnar. He felt good enough to go on a run with him.” Dad and Uncle Gunnar were as bad as Jimmy and Chester, always chasing shittyleads on new sources of scrap metal when the two them felt up to work.
“I can’t be your babysitter, Jimmy. This is my job, not a daycare.”
“It’s just the one time. And she’ll be good, promise. She’s not a baby anymore. You won’t even know she’s here.”
I highly doubted that. But I didn’t want to argue with Jimmy and hurt Lilac’s feelings. “One time, and you come back as soon as you can. It’d be great if she could be picked up before our dinner rush.”
“I’ll be quick.” Jimmy didn’t promise a return time, which was typical for him, and he hurried out the door before I could change my mind.
I put the order in for Lilac’s food and got her situated at a table in the very back. I had to blink hard against the memory of being her age, maybe a bit older, and waiting for my mom to finish her shift. Clinker, the cook, used to fix me a big plate of hash browns, and Mom would have a bag of books from the library for me to read. God, I missed her. My eyes burned thinking that Lilac might not even remember her in a few more years.
“You got a phone, Uncle Mason?” Lilac made a hopeful face as I brought her a coloring page that we kept for customers with kids.
“Yeah I got…” I trailed off as I thought about the things on my phone that I didn’t need her seeing. I wasn’t prepared for childcare duties.
“Hey, Miss Lilac.” Adam came over, holding out his phone. “I got you covered. I’ve got all Teddy’s favorite apps on here.”
“Teddy? He’s a baby.” Lilac took the phone. Adam’s nephew was in kindergarten, and apparently that was a whole different world from second grade.
“Say thank you,” I prompted.
“Thank you.” She grinned as she opened up some number-counting game.
“Jimmy can’t make a habit of doing this,” Adam told me in a low whisper. He was one of the few friends to know about Jimmy and Francine’s missteps and the way CPS had gotten involved in the past. It wasn’t just local gossip at stake here if word got out that Francine had run off and left Lilac with Jimmy. And if he wasn’t doing a good job at parenting… Well, things could get ugly in a hurry, and I sure as hell didn’t want that.
“I know.” We’d stepped away from Lilac’s table, but I kept my voice down. “I’m happy to get a good meal into her. Lord knows that neither Jimmy or Dad can cook.”
“How’d Sheriff—”
“Sssh.”
“Fine. Flint. How’d he like his food?”
“Okay, I guess. We didn’t really talk.” I didn’t mention the conversation we’d had with our eyes. I needed to keep Flint out of my head, focus on Lilac, hold my crazy family together, and not piss off Adam and Logan. Those were the important things, not all the unsaid words with Flint.
Ten
Nash
I was being a big chicken, avoiding Mason. A big hungry chicken. So on Friday, I went to the tavern for a late lunch before I had to head out on patrol. I rehearsed in my head what I should say to Mason—I probably owed him some sort of apology.
As I’d expected, the place was all but empty, and I headed to my regular table.
“Chief.” Mason was in front of me before I’d even finished sitting down. “Your usual?” His eyes were wary, and he sounded remote. Distant. I craved his typical easy good humor far more than I would have thought possible.
“Yeah, that’s fine. Listen, Mason—”
“I’ll get that order in and get your tea.” Mason was gone before I could launch into my rehearsed speech.
He returned with my tea but disappeared again quickly. Had I really spooked him so badly? Fuck it. Maybe kissing had been a mistake, but I missed the tentative friendship we’d been growing the past few weeks, missed our easy banter. When he returned with my burger and salad, I wasn’t going to let him get away so fast.
“Sit,” I ordered as he set the food down. “Join me.”
“I probably shouldn’t…” Mason’s eyes darted around again, and I followed his gaze to a table in the dining area’s back corner. A pillar partially concealed the table, but I was able to see a small blond girl perched on the edge of the booth’s seat. A pink paperback book and a plate of fries were occupying her attention.
“That Jimmy’s kid?” I asked, even though Mason’s guilty look told me everything I needed to know. I’d heard that Francine, Jimmy’s on-again-off-again girlfriend, had run off probably on another bender. “Everything okay at home?”
“Yeah.” Mason glanced back at her.
“Francine split town?” I pitched my voice so it wouldn’t carry back to the kid. Francine and Jimmy had a long history of piss-poor parenting choices, and I wouldn’t put it past Jimmy to push the kid off on Mason. And if Francine was having trouble with sobriety again, that didn’t bode well for anyone. “If Jimmy’s not up—”
“He manages.” Mason’s shoulders were stiff, and I had the strangest urge to rub them. I was not a touchy-feely guy, and offering sympathy over the fucked-up situation that was Mason’s family was an entirely new impulse for me, but there I was, wishing he’d sit, wishing he wouldn’t keep looking at me like I was an enemy who wanted to disrupt his family. But instead, he kept his stony expression. “We manage.”
“They can’t let it all fall on you,” I said reasonably. There had been a world-weariness to that we that told me that a lot was indeed falling to him, and he’d never admit to it. I’d seen his car hea
ded up Butte more than a few times in the past few weeks, and I’d overheard Ringer mentioning that they had leftovers for Mason’s family. I knew the Hanks clan—they’d be leaning hard on Mason now that he was back and with a source of income to boot.
“Is there a city code I’m breaking? Having her here? My mom used to keep me back at that same table, and your dad—the one you get all those rules from—never said a word.”
“Good Lord, Mason. I don’t want to haul you in.” I managed to keep my voice low, but just barely. “I just feel bad for you. That’s allowed, isn’t it?”
Mason shrugged. “I don’t want your pity.”
“No one said anything about pity. How about some good old-fashioned neighborly compassion?”
Mason leaned in, voice the barest of whispers. “We both know there’s nothing neighborly between us, Flint. But thanks.”
“There could be.” I met him whisper for whisper, glare for glare, not wanting to acknowledge the memory of the kiss flashing in his eyes, trying to tell him with my return gaze that friendly was all this could ever be.
“F—heck.” Mason scrubbed at his short hair. “Sorry. It’s not you. It’s just…everything.” His shoulders slumped. The urge to wrap him up in my arms was both startling and overwhelming. Mason was having a bad day and I wanted to make it better.
“Sit,” I offered again, gentler this time.
“I—”
“Uncle Mason?” The girl’s young voice sang out across the room.
“I’ve got to go.” Mason’s eyes lingered on the empty chair as he backed away to tend to his niece and probably pacify Ringer while he was at it. Mason had a huge load on his strong shoulders, and I found myself wishing I could lighten that load, even if it was just for a little while. Make it easier for him.
It was another new feeling for me. Even with Steve, he’d had his life and I’d had mine and keeping our friendship as uncomplicated as possible had been my priority. I hadn’t had much opportunity—or inclination, if I was being totally honest—to turn a bad day around for him. But I had that desire with Mason.
Only problem was that I had no idea what I could do. I knew next to nothing about kids, There was only so much extra money I could leave as a tip before Mason’s pride would protest. I stewed on this while I ate and still hadn’t figured it out when he cleared my plate and ran my card, head still down and shoulders still stooped, not inviting conversation.
I fiddled with the pen for long moments. Then I did something I’d probably regret and dashed off my cell number at the bottom the receipt. If you need anything, call. ~N.
I left before I could second-guess myself, watching through the window to make sure that it was him and not Ringer who collected the receipt. He wouldn’t call, of course, and it was beyond stupid to give out a number that I worked very hard to keep private, but somehow not doing anything felt worse.
Mason
I didn’t call Flint. Nash. Whoever the hell he was when he was nice to me. I didn’t call him because I couldn’t break family loyalty and vent about the Lilac situation to him, couldn’t share how Jimmy’s repeated requests for childcare help, not to mention cash and food, were straining things with Logan and Adam, and I sure as heck couldn’t shoot the breeze with Flint when small talk was the last thing I wanted from him.
No, I wanted to lose myself in his embrace, grant myself a few mindless hours away from all the worries churning in my brain, but he’d made it clear that wasn’t on the table. Instead, I had a stack of bills for the tavern to work my way through, limited cash to pay them, a prescription for Dad to fetch later on in the day because Jimmy couldn’t come up with the funds, and a half-empty dining room saying that all those financial pressures weren’t going to get any easier.
Back in Portland, I’d have gone to the gym, lost myself in a good workout, maybe hit a bar after with friends. I wasn’t one to need a huge crowd or big party, but I’d had a routine in Portland, and I hadn’t anticipated how moving back, even with my best friend right here, would be so lonely and isolating. And I was still readjusting to the small-town fishbowl of everyone knowing my business.
“No kid today?” Logan asked when I came into the kitchen to get a slice of cheesecake for some of our last customers on a sleepy Tuesday night. “Surprised Jimmy didn’t show up again.”
“Look, I know it’s been stressful having her here. I’ll talk to Jimmy.”
“You need to do that, Mase. It’s not right how they take advantage of you.” Logan was a mild-mannered guy most of the time, but he could be plenty stern when he wanted to be.
“They don’t,” I protested even though it was true. I’d taken more food out to the house yesterday, done laundry and cleaned the kitchen while I was there. Nothing was going to bring my mother back, nothing was going to make up for all the years I’d spent away, but somehow doing what I knew she’d want made me feel calmer. I’d opened my mouth to try to explain this to Logan, when, from outside the kitchen door, there was a loud crash and the sound of shattering glass.
We ran into the dining area. The front window was cracked, a huge hole in the bottom half. Glass shards littered the front tables, which thankfully had been empty. A large rock sat on the floor in the middle of the worst of the glass pieces.
“What the fuck?” I wasn’t sure which of the three of us spoke. Adam, Logan, and I all rushed to the busted window.
“I called 911,” one of the customers yelled, breaking me out of my stupor. I glanced around to make sure everyone was okay, literally shuddering with relief when folks assured me nobody had been hurt. Adam and Logan stood slack-jawed next to me, and the few remaining customers beginning to cluster behind them.
“I’ll get a broom,” Adam said.
“No.” Logan put a hand on his arm. “We need to let the police get a look at everything first.”
Fuck. I did not want to have to deal with Flint on top of this mess, but at least at this time of night it was likely to be one of the other officers. I’d have a better chance of hiding how much this was freaking me out with one of them. Because I was freaking even as I tried to project calm. I kept scanning the crowd, sure we’d missed an injury, heart beating faster every time my gaze landed on the gaping hole in the window. Fuck. The tavern was supposed to be a safe place for people, and now that illusion was shattered just as surely as the glass.
My luck was shit, and Flint came tearing into the lot minutes later, lights on the Jeep flashing as he pulled parallel to the building. His long strides had him inside the tavern quickly, and he surveyed the scene with obvious authority, filling the doorway with his broad frame. I hated myself for the frisson of relief that coursed through me at the sight of him.
“Anyone hurt?” he called.
“No.” My eyes flittered around the space for the thousandth time.
“Our insurance is going to go through the roof,” Logan moaned.
“And we’ll have to put up some ugly-ass plywood for God knows how long.” Adam’s face flamed red like he needed someone to pound. I shared that impulse.
Crouching low, Flint examined the area in front of the window, shining his flashlight over the debris. “No note,” he said. “I’ll check outside for any additional evidence. No one touch anything.” He was all business, which was good, I guessed. It was stupid of me to yearn for a hug right then—Flint wasn’t the type, and I was a grown man, not some little kid.
By the time he made it back inside, large plastic bag in one gloved hand, I’d pulled myself together with some of the deep-breathing exercises I used to stave off asthma attacks. Excitement over, the customers had filtered out until it was just the three of us and Flint in the tavern.
“Find any clues?” Logan asked. “This is a hate crime, right?”
“Slow down.” Flint carefully bagged the rock. “I can’t say one way or the other on the type of crime. We’ve had a lot of vandalism around here lately, and most of it has targeted long-standing businesses.”
“You wou
ldn’t take it seriously if someone did have it out for us.” Adam stared down Flint, apparently having decided he was an appropriate recipient of his anger.
Flint raised his eyebrows at Adam but kept his tone as calm and collected as ever. “If there’s evidence of a hate crime, then I’ll be all for charging it that way, but I’m not going to leap to conclusions here. There will be a thorough investigation, I promise.”
“I’m going to make some calls,” Adam said. “See who might know something—”
“You’re going to do no such thing.” Flint’s voice was stern. “No vigilante justice. You think of suspects or people I need to talk to, you call the station.” His eyes landed on me. “And that goes for family members, too. No letting Jimmy go off half-cocked about this, okay?”
Flint thinking I had that kind of control over Jimmy deserved a laugh. And Jimmy was far from my protector—hell, chances were equally high that one of his so-called friends was behind this, another bored evening gone out of control.
“Fine.” Adam didn’t sound too convinced.
“Now what?” Logan asked.
“Well, first step is to clean this up best we can for tonight. Any of you got a source of plywood or plexiglass you can use on the hole?” Flint was, as always, a man with a plan.
“There’s got to be something at my mom’s,” Adam said. “She’s always doing renovations. She’ll have something we can use.”
“I’ll go with you,” Logan offered. “Help you gather supplies.”
“I’ll sweep up here and let Flint finish his investigation,” I said. One of us was going to have to stay behind, and I’d just as soon not deal with Adam and his fuming. It had nothing to do with wanting to be alone with Flint, or so I told myself.
Adam and Logan headed out, and I fetched the broom and dustpan while Flint poked around some more. He took pictures from different angles with a small pocket camera. Following his lead, I did the same with my phone in case we needed pictures for the insurance company.
Trust with a Chaser (Rainbow Cove Book 1) Page 8