Seventeen
Carson
I slide into our regular booth at Alma’s and wait for Austin Barclay and the sheriff to turn up.
Life is good. I’m sitting here in a town I care for and a bright future ahead of me with the love of my life. It really couldn’t get any better.
“Just coffee again this morning?” Carrie asks.
I nod and turn over the white cup at the table setting and move my hat onto the chair at the end of the table. It’s unusual for Carrie to serve customers at this time of the morning. She should be in the kitchen finishing off the early morning bakes.
“So, who am I losing my customer to these days?” she asks as she pours the coffee.
Usually, I’d tuck into eggs or grits at our community law enforcement meetings here, but Lemon cooks every morning now. She’s stayed over every night since we got together and I honestly love it. We’ve carved out a version of domestic bliss. “I can’t remember the last time you ate here.” Carrie rights the steaming contents of the glass jug.
“Lemon makes a mean egg white omelet.”
Carrie chuckles. “No need to apologize Carson, you can’t beat a home cooked breakfast, I must say. I did hear rumor about you two. Everything okay?”
“Sure. We’re just fine.”
She rests the coffee pot on the edge of the table and looks into my eyes with a warm expression. “That’s good to hear. You both deserve a little lovin’.”
With a nod at her comment, I sip on the coffee and raise a hand to Austin as he walks through the door. Realizing she’s not getting any more from me, Carrie pours a coffee for Austin then leaves us to it.
“You’re in early.” Austin states the obvious. “I thought you had a reason to stay in bed a little longer these days?”
I smile at the way today seems to be the day everyone talks openly about Lemon and me. “Yeah. Somethin’ like that.”
He laughs and places his hat at the far end of the table, picking at a wayward leaf lodged on the brim. He wears a top of the range Stetson and looks after it with precision and care. Pretty much like everything about him, which I kinda admire.
“Anything new going down?”
Austin likes to get the inside track on what’s happening in town, usually before Sheriff James arrives and the conversation dries. It’s strange how our meetings used to be limited to driving misdemeanors, land grievances, and the occasional cattle rustling and now they center around kidnap and assault.
“Nothin’ exciting. For obvious reasons, I steer clear of the Green Parrot case, although from what I understand the trail has gone cold.”
He taps the head of the spoon from his saucer on the table and twirls it around in his fingers before tapping it again; repeating the action over and over. He’s considering something and I sip on my coffee until he decides how to verbalize his thoughts. Austin is an outsider and has his own ways and I’ve learned the hard way that if you push him, he pulls down his lawyer shutters. The best method is to let him tell you what he wants, when he wants.
“Morning.” Sheriff James barges in, shuffling aside chairs with his waddle and greeting everyone in turn. Looks like Austin’s explanation of his reaction—or rather non-reaction—will have to wait. The sheriff places his order at the counter before joining us. Within seconds of him taking his usual seat next to me, a plate piled with waffles, bacon, and syrup is set before him. Everyone knows this is his second breakfast. The first a cholesterol friendly version served to him by his loving wife.
He’s out of breath already and fills in the time to recuperate by taking out his police issue notebook and carefully folding it over with an elastic band to this week’s list of cases. There’re only four items on the list and all of those are crossed out with a thick, shaky pencil line. I don’t even try to read what was under the line. It won’t be that interesting. Until recently, law enforcement business in this sleepy town has been about what might happen rather than what does. Sometimes I think we are more social workers than law enforcers and each of us has our limitations on what we can and can’t say and what we can and can’t listen to at these meetings. But between the three of us, cooperation is our main goal and how we keep everything ticking over. Mostly. A restructure of law enforcement is well overdue and has been an issue ever since the sheriff’s department was relocated from the one-house town of Fort Keen to Gunner Ridge a year ago.
“Anything going on?” he asks, shoveling a huge mouthful of waffle dripping in syrup into his moustache-capped mouth.
“Curtis Clavelly is to be released from the state penitentiary at the end of this week.”
The sheriff looks up from his waffles. “Shame he went the same way as his old man. His ma okay with him coming back?”
“Yes. I went to see her yesterday. She’s fine.”
James looks up at me and huffs. Like me, he has developed a feeling of protectiveness of the citizens of this town, even though his remit is much wider than Gunner Ridge and his time here is brief.
“And I’ll go see him when he’s home to make sure he understands the terms of his parole.”
James nods. “Good man. Anything from the lawyer’s office?” He doesn’t even bother looking at Austin. He’s more curt with the town lawyer, partly because of the way Austin bought out Cedric, the second-generation town lawyer, but mainly because he’s not a local. Which is ironic, considering James isn’t either. His wife is, but not him. But marrying into the community is considered good enough. Little is known of Austin’s background, and while that doesn’t bother me too much, James is not so welcoming. It takes decades for an outsider to be completely accepted into this community and Austin has only been here three years.
“Just some land deals and a trust issue to sort out with the Corrigans.” Austin pushes the spoon he was tapping away from his mug.
“Oh. Them again.” The sheriff mumbles with obvious irritation. “They seem to have their finger in everything going on in this town right now.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
The sheriff shakes his head as he munches on the last of the waffle, resisting the urge to slide his finger along the syrup on the plate by moving it to the edge of the table but continuing to eye it longingly. I’m sure that was almost a snarling lip he brandished at Austin. “Had Blue in this last week for questioning on the Lemon Corrigan case.”
The blood drains from my face and Austin flicks his eyes at me. It’s obvious the news about Lemon and I has not reached the sheriff yet, otherwise he wouldn’t have mentioned that. I clamp shut my mouth in order to keep my professionalism.
Austin helps out by commenting, “I don’t think Carson knew about that.”
“Oh.” The sheriff looks wide eyed from Austin to me. “We exhausted every other avenue, and the only person who couldn’t account for where they were at the time of her attack was him and what with their previous connections it seemed he had a motive. Especially with the text she sent. Taunting him as she always does.”
“Text?”
Austin kicks me from under the table. I move my foot away and continue to focus on the sheriff.
“Yeah, she sent him a text and not long before she was attacked. She’d deleted it for some reason. Mitchell Higgins let slip that Blue was missing from his own wedding party for an hour. Just about the time it all happened and right after he got the text. He could’ve made it to the Green Parrot and back in that time. It all fits together.”
Austin huffs, and I find myself snapping my head from Austin to the sheriff and back again.
“But there’s nothing that would stick so we’re wrapping the case up.” The sheriff adjusts the fork on his empty plate and beckons for Carrie to come over with the coffee pot. “But I tell ya, I feel it in my bones. When Blue Corrigan sat opposite me in the interview room, he was shifty as a pole cat up a tree.”
Austin shakes his head. “Clutching at straws,” he murmurs.
What the fuck just happened?
Ignoring Austi
n’s mutterings, I ask, “Sorry Sheriff, did I catch that right? You think Blue Corrigan may have something to do with the attack on Lemon and you’re shutting down the case?”
“Pretty much sums it up.” His look is one of indifference, like he’s well over anything to do with the case and he picks up the laminated menu from the table. “They’ve got some new cakes here. I’m gonna take one to go. You boys want one?”
I can’t seem to close my mouth so Austin answers for the both of us. “No, we’re good.”
The sheriff shuffles squeakily along the vinyl seat of the booth, trying three times to stand so he can move out and order his carry out. I turn to Austin and lift my eyebrows.
“I’ll tell you another time,” Austin murmurs.
“No, tell me now,” I hiss.
“Right boys, see y’all soon.” The sheriff lifts a cake box up to his chest, like he’s won the prize at the county fair.
Once the sheriff has left, I press Austin again. He tries to sidestep the issue and I nearly lose my cool with him. That’s not like me, but this is Lemon’s attack and I don’t do cool when it comes to something that could harm her.
After tapping his spoon some more, he opens up. “It’s just as the sheriff said. Lemon sent a text to Blue and they put two and two together so had to have him in for questioning. Just to rule him out, mainly.”
“And was you there?”
“Yep.” He rubs at his chin.
“So, tell me word for word what was said.”
“You know I can’t do that Carson. Client confidentiality and all that.”
“Fuck client confidentiality. This is my girlfriend we’re discussing and I wanna know what the fuck went on.”
He leans back and lets the spoon drop. “So that night. The night of Blue’s wedding and the attack at the Green Parrot, she sent Blue a text. Said something like, ‘Hope it works out for you.’”
I hard stare him, searching out whether he is being honest or not. He’s not.
“What exactly did it say, Austin?”
He shrugs.
“Come on. Don’t play the fool with me. It doesn’t suit you.”
“Okay. ‘Hope it works out for you this time around. Remember, I’m always here for you.’ There. Happy now?”
I sink back against my chair. She lied. Said she never sent anyone a text. And covered it up by deleting it off her phone as if it would never be found. But obviously it has. And it proves to me she will always have feelings for Blue Corrigan, no matter who comes into her life. It just can’t be helped. I’m in love with her and she’s in love with Blue. And she always will be.
“Do you think Blue attacked her?”
He shuffles in his seat and I feel that I have the answer. “No, course not.”
I shake my head at him.
“No, Carson. He didn’t go to the Green Parrot that night.”
“What about Colt. Did he send him?”
He snorts. “Why the fuck would he do that? You need to chill the fuck out. Lemon Corrigan has got under your skin and no woman is worth losing everything over. Anyway, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a client to meet at the office.”
Although Austin is as convincing as any lawyer could be, it still leaves a nasty taste in my mouth. Wherever I turn, I can’t seem to rid myself of Blue’s shadow.
At every step he’s there in Lemon’s life and I must be a fool to think it will ever be any different. She’s still the same person she was and I cannot take second place to Blue Corrigan, even if it means losing her. This isn’t even about trust, it’s deeper than that. This is about who she really wants to spend the rest of her life with and I can’t be second best.
“D’ya want a fresh cup?” Carrie’s warm voice washes over me.
I pry my focus from the curdled coffee on the table in front of me. “No, thanks.” I push two bills under the check tray and shuffle from the booth, taking the same path through the tables that Austin Barclay did when he left nearly thirty minutes ago and grabbing my hat from the table as I pace out of the establishment.
I’ve not got to my car before Carrie calls after me on the street. She has my hat in her hand. Jeez, I must be distracted to take someone else’s. Then I look at the actual hat in my hand. It’s Austin’s. And a flash of déjà vu hits me.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” Her face reflects my worry and I try to smile, like Lemon does when she’s covering up her anxiety. “I’ll take this to Austin.” I lift up his felt Stetson.
There is so much hurtling around my head and I need to tread carefully. I need to avoid Lemon until I have a clearer view on my feelings about all this.
Eighteen
Lemon
It’s quiet in Alma’s—that time between pancakes and shepherd’s pie. Penny’s already there and has snagged our favorite spot near the window, where we can catch up and people watch simultaneously.
“Hey babe,” I shriek when I see her friendly face. I rush over and give her a huge hug. She squeezes on to me.
“It feels like I haven’t seen you in so long.” She pulls back with a huge beaming grin. “And I mean the real Lemon.”
“Thank you, and I know what you mean, I feel so much better.”
“And you look it too, you’re glowing.”
I lean in. “That’s probably because I haven’t had a drink in God knows how long.” In my mind, beers don’t count, it’s the hard stuff I’m referring to.
“More likely that man of yours.”
My cheeks heat. “Yeah and that.” I wink at her.
She clasps her hand to her chest. “Jeez, babe, he must be good.”
I laugh. “The best.”
“Hold that thought. I want the full deets.” She pouts. “Coffee?”
“Can I get iced tea?”
“Tea?” She screws up her nose. “Since when did you drink tea?”
“I just don’t want coffee right now. Must be this humidity.” I lay a palm over my stomach and her gaze follows my action and I catch a glimpse of something that flashes across her familiar features. “Not even an iced coffee?”
“No. Just tea, thanks, babe.”
She shakes her head with a frown and while she grabs our drinks, I settle at the vacant seat and case the room. The few customers in here smile and nod at me. That’s nice. I focus through the window at the locals going about their business and wonder what Carson is doing in his office. In his uniform. His muscles straining across the standard issue shirt. That thick utility belt restraining everything that’s mine.
Penny clatters a glass onto the countertop.
“Oh.” I gasp, lost in my dirty thoughts.
“Are you dreaming of that man of yours?”
I laugh and pull the glass of tea toward me, stirring a straw around the ice cubes. “Might be?”
“Thought so. Carrie said he was here this morning.”
“He’s in here most mornings.”
“Yeah, but she wouldn’t have had chance to ask me about you and him if she didn’t have some kind of lead into the conversation.”
I huff. “Typical. I suppose you told her everything there is to know?”
“Um, no, babe. You haven’t told me yet, so there’s no way I can tell everyone else now, can I?”
I elbow her in the ribs. “So, how’s the new job going?”
“Fine.” She narrows her eyes at me. “You trying to change the subject?”
“No, but let’s wait until…” I flick my eyes to the table next to us, where the Dawson sisters sit, staring out of the window as if they are people watching when I know full well they are straining to listen to what I have to say.
Penny smiles. “Aw, you wouldn’t believe it, babe.” Her voice falsely loud and I notice the Dawson sister closest to me hold her breath. I stifle a giggle. “I was bent over sorting out the display of pumpkins we’ve got in the first aisle and this guy came up behind me. I didn’t have to turn to look him over. I just knew from the way he shadowed me that he was bui
lt, and I didn’t want to spoil any illusion. So, I shimmied a little, you know, just to make sure I had his attention and…” She takes a sip of her coffee. The hesitation makes the Dawson sister lean back. “I felt these two meaty hands on my hips. And I thought to myself, ‘hey Penny, this is your lucky day,’ then he full on gooses me. So, I drop a pumpkin, which rolls off down aisle three, and I turn to see how my luck fares, and you’ll never guess who it was!”
“Nope. No idea.”
She beckons with her finger for me to lean toward her. Which of course I play along with.
“Are you ready for this?” She whisper-giggles.
I nod.
She leans back and so do I. “Yeah, so obviously he apologized profusely. A case of mistaken identity. But I told him he could mistake me for his wife anytime. So, we’re meeting up at the bowling alley on Friday. Said he can’t wait to see how else we compare.”
With that the Dawson sisters stand abruptly and rush out on to the street. As if Penny’s attitude will infect them.
We laugh. Hard. Some harmless fun.
“So, come on, now they’re gone, tell me all about him.”
“What do you mean? You grew up with him as well. There’s nothing to tell.”
She slurps up a good quarter of her iced coffee. “I’m sure he’s changed a whole lot since we fumbled around behind the school cafeteria in high school.”
I gasp. “Oh my god, Penny. I’d forgotten all about you and Carson. Why didn’t that go anywhere?”
She shrugs. “Obvious, babe. You. He had the hots for you even back then. His attention with me was only because he saw it as a way of keeping close to you. I just didn’t realize it at the time.”
I slump my shoulders. “Yeah, I missed a whole lot of went on in my life at that time. I was blinded by all things Blue.”
She nods. “You were. And now you’re not. So, come on then, what’s it like? I can’t believe you’re living with him already.”
Broken in Love (Studs in Stetsons Book 2) Page 15