AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“He said you make huckleberry pies that make the world stand still.” Waylon lurches his large frame to peer behind me. “Ain’t got any ‘round here, have you?”
I chuckle. “Nope. No pies.” Time for a subject change that doesn’t involve me. “What can I get you?”
“Pack of Copenhagen.” He grins down at me. “And toss in a lotto ticket for good luck. And these.”
I flinch when he throws a bag of old-fashioned cinnamon barrels on the counter.
Aiden’s favorite. Especially when he was angry. He’d put one in his mouth and suck on it, considering all the ways he could hurt me. Like some sick, fucking waterboarding torment. I hated the sound. I kept hoping he’d choke to death, but no such luck.
“You got it,” I say, turning away to the back shelves. Quickly, I make sure my CULINARY INSTITUTE OF AMERICA hoodie is loose around my belly. No one in Resurrection knows my business, and I want to keep it that way. Until…
Until what?
Until I make a clean getaway?
Until I figure out what I want to do with my mess of a life?
My back to Waylon, I pinch my eyes shut and try to breathe like a woman who isn’t having a mid-life crisis in her early thirties. The urge to give in and palm my stomach, to keep it protected, is a hollow ache in my chest. And yet, I don’t touch it.
I don’t deserve this little baby and it sure as hell deserves better than me.
“Koty?”
I jump at the boom of Waylon’s voice and spin around. “Sorry. One pack or two?”
“Two. But don’t tell my wife.”
Waylon and I both look over when the door chimes.
Waylon’s jowls quiver as his smirk widens. “Well, if it isn’t the Wild Witch of West Street.”
Amusement and dread grips my chest. Clea Lou Bauer, and her bouffant red hair, hustles through the aisles. She’s a local busybody who hosts Monday night book clubs at the library as a secret front for a neighborhood watch program.
I needle my temple. Cast eyes at the sheriff’s department across the street. What I wouldn’t give for Davis to come charging in and muscle me out the back exit.
But he can’t rescue me every time I need him.
I have to do it myself.
“Dakota McGraw, I’ll be good and goddamned!” the shrill voice screeches. I force a smile. “What are you doing home? Oh, lord, honey, what happened to your arm?”
Life, I think and inhale a steeling breath as Clea bulldozes my way.Get it the fuck back together.
One day, I’ll look back at all this and laugh. I truly will, but right now, it’s hard to believe that I’ll ever fit back into Resurrection, Montana.
Home suddenly seems very far from where I long to be.
Slipping in through the side door of the Resurrection Sheriff Department, I glare at the box of donuts on the station desk and the cops gathered around them. Doesn’t do a thing for our damn image.
“Should be in the break room,” I mutter, passing them by.
“Morning, Montgomery.”
“Move,” I growl, leveling a finger at Topper, who blocks the path to my desk. This vantage point gives me a direct line of sight into The Corner Store. If Dakota leaves the building, I’ll see her. Anyone coming and going, I’ll be ready.
Leaving her alone today fucks with my nerves. She looked fragile when I dropped her off this afternoon. I’m not convinced she’s safe outside the walls of the ranch. A fact that renders me utterly fucking helpless. The feeling is like hot acid in my bloodstream.
Shrugging off my jacket, I settle in at my unofficial desk. I’m not a cop, but I like having one ear on the happenings of Resurrection. Better to be prepared.
