by A. J. Pine
“Of the law.” Cash’s jaw tightened. “You both broke the law. In my town. It was more than your own safety you put at risk. It was everyone else’s, too. Whether it’s driving fast or drinking so much you can’t feel the pain of a busted-up nose, your behavior—both of you—put this town at risk. And damn it, Everett. You had a bottle of Jack in your cupboard after three months of sobriety, and you want to give me hell for not trusting you? Now here you are snooping around private property after hours—turning your nose up at the law once again. Tell me why I shouldn’t arrest you for trespassing right now.”
Olivia smacked Cash lightly across his shoulder. “Oh come on, babe. You’re not really gonna—”
Walker interrupted her, holding out his hands, wrists pressed together. “Have at it, Sheriff. That’s what you really think, isn’t it? That I’m a danger to myself and society?”
“Christ, Everett. I know you think much doesn’t happen in this town, but I’ve seen a car wrapped so badly around a light post we could barely identify the passengers. And I saw what you looked like sprawled on the pavement over a blanket of glass, your face so bloodied I thought I’d be calling your brothers outta bed to identify your body. So excuse me if I’m not celebrating. A few months is nothing compared to ten years of addiction.”
Olivia gasped. “Oh, Cash…”
“It’s a hell of a start!” Walker shot back. “Tell me why everyone’s still waiting for me to fall off the wagon—you, Jack, Luke. It’s not enough I went into this willingly. It’s not enough I’ve kept my head down and stayed off the radar. So tell me the answer, Sheriff. When’s it gonna be enough?”
But the truth was, Cash Hawkins wasn’t the person Walker was trying to convince. He didn’t blame anyone for not trusting him after such a short time when he didn’t trust himself. Didn’t mean it was easy to hear that Cash thought the same thing he did.
The sheriff opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, Walker felt cool metal around his wrist as he heard the handcuff click into place. He glanced down to see the second cuff clasping just below the sleeve of Cash’s white robe.
Both men yanked their wrists, but it was a futile effort. They looked up to see Olivia dangling the key in between them.
“You boys need to settle this and move on. Thought you might need a little motivation.”
“Olivia…” Cash said carefully, but she shook her head.
“You’re free when you figure out a way to kiss and make up—or whatever you two need to do to settle an argument.”
Cash shrugged. “My right hand’s still free.” He balled it into a fist.
Walker’s jaw tightened. “I’ll take you with my left. It’s not a problem.”
Then Cash made a quick move that Walker realized too late was an attempt to grab the key from Olivia, and he socked the sheriff in the gut.
Olivia yelped as Cash doubled over, and Walker watched the key fly from her hand and into the darkened bushes.
Walker was too focused on the key to catch the sheriff sweeping his leg out and knocking Walker to the ground—which subsequently yanked Cash to the ground as well. The two men rolled off the porch and into the cold, damp grass as a silver SUV rolled up in front of the property.
Walker and Cash were both on their backs. Each scrambled to get to their feet, which only caused them to stumble over each other again so that when Sam Callahan rounded the front of the vehicle to open the passenger door for Violet, the two men were on all fours, having scuffled all the way to the edge of the property, Cash yanking at Walker’s wrist as the sheriff retied his robe.
The first thing Walker saw from his vantage point was a black, strappy sandal with a long, spiky heel. Damn Violet and those shoes of hers. His vision of Violet’s sexy leg was obscured by Sam Callahan dropping to a squat so he was eye level with the other two men.
“Sheriff,” he said with a nod. “Everett. Interesting night?”
Slowly, both men pushed to their knees and then to their feet. Cash’s white robe was streaked with green grass stains, and the top couple buttons on Walker’s shirt had been ripped off, leaving it half open and his chest exposed.
Once on his feet, he could see Violet fully—a simple, short-sleeve black dress to go with the not-so-simple shoes, her hair in thick dark spirals over her shoulders. Her lips shone with a clear gloss, and her cheeks held the slightest hint of pink.
She was ridiculously gorgeous as always, even as she stared at him with her arms crossed and brows raised in stark accusation.
“Good evening, gentlemen. Thanks for the welcome.”
Olivia sprung up from where she’d been hidden in the bushes. “Found it!” She ran toward the four others standing on the edge of the lawn. “I found the key!”
Cash held out his free hand as Olivia dropped it into his palm with a nervous smile.
“I thought I was doing the two of you a favor,” she said. “I can see now that I didn’t think long enough before acting on the idea. Lesson learned,” she said with a laugh.
“I should probably go so you all can deal with whatever it is you’re dealing with,” Sam said. Then Walker watched as he kissed Violet on the cheek—and as she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a parting hug.
“Thank you,” she said as they released each other. “I had a really nice time.”
Sam smiled the sort of broad, heroic grin of a man accustomed to saving the damsel rather than being the one to actually put her in distress.
Walker’s chest tightened.
“I meant what I said,” he told her. “The offer still stands.”
Violet smiled. “I’ll think about it. Thanks again, Sam.”
The sheriff unlocked the cuffs and dropped them back into the robe pocket from which Olivia had apparently swiped them.
“Good night—everyone,” Sam said before hopping back in the vehicle and heading off down the street.
For several long seconds it felt like a standoff between Walker and Cash while the two women looked on.
“You assaulted an officer,” Cash said to him coolly.
“Oh my God,” Violet said.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Olivia interrupted. “It was my fault.”
“You raised your fist,” Walker countered. “I thought I was playing defense. I didn’t know you were going for the key.”
Cash grunted something under his breath. “I suppose that is a feasible explanation for your unlawful behavior this time around.” He held out a hand.
Walker hesitated, but then he grabbed it. The two men shook.
“We’re done for tonight, Everett,” the sheriff said. “But not for good.”
Olivia grabbed the sheriff’s hand and tugged him toward the door.
“Night, Walker,” she said. “I hope you found what you were looking for tonight.”
The two of them—Olivia in robe only and Cash in his stained one along with his sweatpants, strode hand in hand up the sidewalk, back to the porch, and through the front door, leaving just Violet and Walker at the edge of the property.
“Do I even want to ask why Olivia cuffed you to the sheriff in the first place?” Violet said.
“Probably not,” Walker replied.
She nodded slowly. “Fine. That’s not the question I’ll ask, but I do have one.”
He raised his brows. “Out with it, then.”
“Why are you at the B and B? Cash was off duty tonight, but Olivia had the desk until ten. They were supposed to be doing a late-night date once she was off the clock, too. But I don’t remember you being part of their plans.”
Walker scrubbed a hand over his beard. “I was checking out Sam and Ben’s work on the construction. I wanted to see…”
He trailed off. He was tired of lying to her. He could at least be truthful about tonight.
“That’s not actually true,” he said.
“Oh?” was all she said in response.
“I came here to see if you were back yet, and when I figured it was too
early for you to be home from a good date—and why wouldn’t it be with Sam? I decided to hide out behind the demo area for a bit so I could see whether or not you really liked him. If you kissed him good night, I’d guess that you did, and I’d have gone home and dealt with it.”
She stared at him like he had a third eye, and he didn’t blame her.
“I didn’t kiss him good night,” she said flatly.
He nodded. “Is that because you had an audience or because he wasn’t the man you wanted to kiss tonight?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “All these weeks I’ve known you, you’ve been this ridiculous puzzle I’ve tried to figure out. Unsuccessfully, I might add. And now you’re admitting to trying to spy on my date to figure out what you could have just asked me.”
He ran a hand through his hair and pulled from it a leaf and a few blades of grass.
“You’re right,” he said. “Maybe it’s time I let you ask me.”
“Ask you what?” she said hesitantly.
He shrugged. “Anything you want, I guess.”
“And you’ll answer? No matter what the question is.”
He nodded. “I figure I owe you that much.”
She fidgeted with the small purse slung across her torso. “Were you jealous I was out with another guy tonight?”
Wow. Looked like she wasn’t pulling any punches.
“Yes,” he said coolly. “Out-of-my-mind jealous.”
“Even though you threw me out of your apartment weeks ago and still haven’t told me why?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want more from me than friendship, Walker?”
He glanced down the street in the direction Sam had driven.
“Sam Callahan is a good man,” he said.
She blew out an exasperated-sounding breath. “That’s a cop-out answer. If there was no duty or bro code or whatever excuse you’ve been using to push me away, would you still want to be with me?”
He stared into her questioning brown eyes. “Yes.”
She groaned. “You are infuriating. Do you know that?”
He knew. “Been called worse.”
“Not that you get to ask any of the questions here, but so we’re clear, Sam and I are just going to be friends. Turns out there’s a guy I’m hung up on who’s keeping me from being able to move on. So until I get him out of my system…” She trailed off.
Walker bit back a grin. “You did a damned good job of hiding it.”
She shook her head. “Not from him. Or Olivia. Or Cash even. Before I left tonight, Olivia asked me if I was really sure I wanted to go through with the date since there was still so much tension between you and me. Apparently the one time I try not to wear my emotions on my sleeve, they just leak right out of me when everyone seems to be watching.”
He took a step toward her, but she backed away.
“Why?” she asked, throwing her hands in the air. “Why do you think that I can’t handle whatever is going on with you? Why do you think I’m capable of dealing with all of the other shit going on in my life but that I’m not strong enough to handle yours?”
He held out his hand for her, but she hesitated.
“You’re the strongest person I know, Teach. I’m the one who’s been weak.”
Her eyes softened, but he knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. He needed to let her all the way in. He didn’t expect her to forgive him, but he at least wanted her to understand before she left. He wanted her to know once and for all how he felt about her, but he wanted her to trust him, too. To trust that it had always been real even if he hid the biggest part of himself from her.
“Come with me,” he said. “I’ll show you.”
She turned toward the antiques shop, staring up at the apartment above and then spun back to face him.
“I know,” he said. “I scared the hell out of you last time you were there. And I think, maybe, you know why. But it’s the one thing you’re afraid to ask—and the one thing I still don’t know if I can say aloud. If I don’t say it, then maybe it won’t be true. And maybe you won’t look at me like everyone else in this town has at one point or another.”
He dropped his hand, and they stood there, gazes locked on one another, an impasse of sorts.
“I get it,” he said. “Too little too late and all that.”
He started toward the apartment, and she didn’t stop him.
He’d pushed her too far, and he didn’t blame her for not wanting to let him back in now. He’d pushed everyone away who wanted to be there for him—his brothers, his aunt, even Cash, who, when he wasn’t arresting Walker, was the closest thing he had to a tried-and-true friend—because he thought recovery was something he had to do alone. He thought he could do the same with Violet, keep her at arm’s length and not ever truly let her in. So why did it feel like someone punched a hole clear through his chest?
He strode up the back steps and into Lucinda’s apartment. He opened the cabinet where he’d hidden the opened bottle of whiskey rather than pouring it out, set it on the table along with his shot glass, then sat down and stared at his two old friends.
The sheriff was right. A few months was nothing compared to almost half a lifetime. He didn’t know how to be anyone other than an alcoholic. It would be so much easier to just be who everyone else expected—to play his role in the story that always ended with him messing shit up.
He’d been the asshole of all assholes when he was drinking, but there was no excuse for the way he’d treated Violet when she’d made an innocent mistake with that damned mug of tea. Now that he was ready to tell her the truth, it was too late. Walking away was the smartest thing for her to do.
He held the shot glass in his hand, flipped it over a couple of times, then set it back down.
Not tonight. Even if she couldn’t give him another chance, he wouldn’t fail her because of it.
Instead he headed back to his room, stripped out of his clothes, and collapsed onto his bed. He was so damned tired of it all. How the hell would he make it through the end of the summer before he could pick up and leave?
It took a good twenty-five minutes of lying there, wishing for sleep to come. When it did, it was like a tidal wave of drowsiness he couldn’t fight if he tried. He welcomed it, telling himself when he woke up everything would be different. He fucked up with Violet, but he was done pushing everyone else away. No more self-imposed exile. His family wanted to be there for him, so maybe it was high time he let them.
His room was pitch-black when something clattered loudly in the kitchen. It took his eyes several seconds to adjust as he fumbled for the phone on his nightstand but instead sent it crashing to the ground.
“Shit,” he mumbled, which seemed like the only word he knew these days.
His eyes finally registered the time. It was half past midnight.
He stood, rolled his neck along his shoulders, remembering his ridiculous battle with the sheriff on the B and B’s front lawn, when he realized he’d been so preoccupied with Violet’s date that he hadn’t eaten since lunch.
Food. He needed food.
A dish clanked against the sink in the kitchen, and he rolled his eyes. How was his aunt always showing up when he needed to eat? He had to draw the line at past midnight.
“Seriously, Jenna?” he called down the hall. “Showing up at the crack of dawn is one thing, but the middle of the—”
He stopped short at the kitchen entryway where he found not his aunt but Violet rinsing the few dishes he’d left in the sink.
He blinked twice, making sure he wasn’t running another fever and maybe hallucinating.
Nope. It was her.
She wore a black tank, a pair of red-and-black-checked flannel pants, and a pair of tan fuzzy boots. Maybe they were slippers. He wasn’t sure. Walker was pretty clueless when it came to women’s fashion. All he knew was that Violet Chastain could make a garbage bag look good simply because she was Violet.
His first instinct was to kiss her, whic
h was always the first thing he wanted to do when he saw her. But she hadn’t snuck into his apartment and tiptoed into his room, telling him she’d give him another chance. She was—cleaning. So as much as he’d started to hope the moment he saw her, he hung back, not wanting to spook her into running out the door again.
She turned off the tap and braced her hands on the edge of the counter.
He cleared his throat. “I thought we came to an agreement earlier,” he said. It was more like she had agreed he wasn’t worth the fight anymore, and he hadn’t fought for her. In his head he could hear all the right words—The I’m sorry and I should tell you the truth and You deserve better, but it’s hard for me to admit why. Everything was there, behind a stubborn, stupid, jackass mouth that, when opened, only ever uttered the wrong thing or thought of the right thing when it was far too late.
She finally pivoted to face him, and her brows raised as she caught sight of his almost naked form. But she just as quickly seemed to regain her composure.
“You drank iced tea at my parents’ anniversary party,” she said.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I did.”
“You got so angry when Dorothy wanted us to sample the stemware before we bought it, and I shrugged it off. Then at Lily and Olivia’s dinner party after I hurt my hand—at a bed-and-breakfast that does wine tastings with a table full of brothers who own an up-and-coming winery—not one goblet or flute was set out on the table.”
His chest tightened. So it was going to happen like this—her figuring out his lies and then turning her back on him for good. He wasn’t sure he could handle it.
Jack had it all wrong. It wasn’t just her leaving that would break him. It was her thinking the worst of him before she did. But he wouldn’t stop her. She’d come here to confirm what he’d wanted to tell her in his own careful way. He owed it to both of them to see it through now, even if it would be his undoing.
“You’ve got a good eye,” he finally said.
“Every Sunday dinner with my parents, you always said no to a glass of wine because of the long drive back to Oak Bluff, and no one ever thought twice about it.”