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There was paperwork for everything from the speeding ticket I’d had to give Eddy when I’d caught her going fifteen miles over the speed limit, and for the warning I’d written the farmer who couldn’t keep his cows off the highway. Every interaction, every citation issued—they all required paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork.
You were more likely to die of boredom or papercuts than because of a suspect, but it was certainly better than nonstop violence that there seemed to be no cure for, just stop gap measures. That’s why I’d left, but it wasn’t why I stayed away.
Steve was, but that wasn’t fair to Ma. Was it? It didn’t matter, because I couldn’t go now, anyway. There was too much to do around here, and this was where my life was.
Not there.
As soon as the day was over, I made my way over to the Black Thumb for a beer or two, maybe some shallow conversation with a few of the guys. Anything to distract me from thoughts of Ma and Steve. Thoughts of Reese. Complicated thoughts and emotions I wanted no part of. Not now.
Not ever.
“Let me get your finest brown ale, Buddy.”
The old guy who owned the place snorted a laugh in my direction and shook his head.
“Rough day, Detective?”
“I just got done with a phone call from my mother.”
“Say no more. The brownest I can find, just for you. Coming right up.” With a half-smile, he shuffled off, ignoring the shouts of young women for fruity cocktails he wouldn’t make for them, anyway. Between his attitude and Nina’s, it was a miracle the place made any money.
But it was the best bar in a small town with just three options—and the others didn’t have pool tables, trivia night, or the comfort of home the way Black Thumb did. “Thanks, Buddy.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t go gettin’ all emotional about it.”
I slid the money across the bar and raised my hands carefully. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” With a grunt, Buddy was gone and I was alone—left with nothing but my thoughts, which kept returning to Reese. She was the last person I wanted to think about, because there were no answers there. No clarity. Just more questions and feelings that confused me, and if they didn’t confuse me, they scared the hell out of me. I stood, hoping a game of pool or a round of darts would keep my mind focused on something more productive.
Hell, anything other than that. Other than her.
“Jackson. Just the man I wanted to see.”
My shoulders fell in disappointment at the interruption, but at least it wasn’t a drunk tourist looking to get her rocks off with a local. “Janey. What can I do for you?”
She pursed her lips to hide a smile. “I wanted to let you know that I have the perfect idea for your Hometown Heroes photoshoot, so don’t think I’ve forgotten about you.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I deadpanned and Janey kept right on talking.
“I want to schedule it the day before the final cook-off. If Reese agrees, that is.” Janey mumbled that last part to herself, ignoring the frown I wore as she typed a note into her phone.
I opened my mouth to tell her it was fine with me, but Janey was distracted again, off to rope some other poor, unsuspecting soul into doing something he would later regret. Mostly.
With a beer in my hand and my gaze, finally, on the pool tables, I waited for the sense of relaxation to kick in. My beer was half empty by the time I realized I wasn’t on edge or stressed out. I was bored. Inside a bar filled with beautiful women, more booze than they should be drinking, and loud music, and I was bored.
And it was all the fault of a tiny blond with a barbecue obsession. I wasn’t interested in any of the women, local or otherwise, shooting me bedroom eyes or otherwise admiring my form in jeans and a button-up shirt that wasn’t western in theme so it made me stand out even more. Not one of them in their tight jeans and low-cut shirts had a thing on Reese, with her constantly mussed hair, her bare feet, and cheeks that were always a little rosy from too much time in a warm kitchen.
“Dammit.”
I would rather be in the kitchen of her restaurant or at her house than here at a bar, filled with unattached women who weren’t looking for strings. That dressed-down beauty and her smart mouth were a siren song I couldn’t ignore, and her kitchen sorcery was just the cherry on top.
I was on my feet and headed toward the door in seconds. I didn’t want anyone but Reese and she wasn’t here, which meant I didn’t need to be here, either.
I needed to be wherever she was, and that was exactly where I went.
