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Oh. That was interesting. Of course, they had both changed, matured, and the assumptions they’d made about each other when they were teens had been based on inference and rumor.And Briar’s teenage crush, which she was coming to realize had been smoldering all her life and now had morphed into full-blown adult attraction.
It didn’t help that Royce had grown up into exactly the kind of person Briar was attracted to—smart, a little dangerous, not an alpha-hole.
As a teen, Briar had labeled Royce a rich alpha jerk because he teased her and rode a motorcycle. But what had she really known about him? Nothing.
“My dad and I never got along. I left as soon as I could,” Royce said as if he was reading her mind. “For the longest time, I thought, hoped almost, that maybe he wasn’t my father.”
“I had no idea that you two didn’t get along.”
Royce lifted a shoulder as he turned another corner. “It wasn’t like I was going to advertise what a terrible person the sheriff was.”
“What happened to your mom?”
Briar didn’t have a memory of a Mrs. King. Even though she’d lived on the other side of town, it seemed like she would have at least seen a mom at school events or somewhere around Rexville. Did she vaguely remember some kind of scandal? It would have to have been big for Briar to have caught wind of it.
“She drowned in the river when I was eight or nine,” he said with quiet finality.
Oh, boy. And that shut the conversation down. Briar felt a bit bad for asking about Royce’s life. Maybe the scandal she’d remembered was just years of townspeople speculating about what might have really happened to his mother.
“Sorry,” Royce said as he slowed and pulled into the driveway of a brick mid-century one-story house. “I shouldn’t have shut you down. It’s been what, thirty years, and I’m still pissed she left us with him.”
“I’m sorry for asking. It really is none of my business.”
Briar itched to ask if his mother’s death had been an accident, but she restrained herself.
“Nah, it’s water under the bridge, can’t be changed, all that. Let’s talk about something else, though, something more uplifting, like who you think is trying to kill you. Also, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to check in with Bishop and Caleb.”
Suddenly Briar was exhausted, the adrenaline that had surged from finding the body, being shot at, and having her childhood home burst into flames finally receding from her bloodstream.
“Do you have food?”
“What?”
“I’m starving and if you want any more information out of me, you’re going to need to feed me.”
“How about I ask Bishop to stop by the Crown and pick up some burgers and wings?”
Briar’s stomach rumbled its agreement.
“A burger sounds good.”
Royce’s house wasn’t a man cave. But it also didn’t feel lived in. He’d only been back in Rexville for a year, though, so maybe the blandness made more sense. Her LA apartment was tiny, and Briar wasn’t particularly sentimental, so instead of family pictures she had photographs from vacations she’d been on. Maybe Royce felt the same way.
The living room was furnished with a dark leather sectional and a coffee table placed in front of it, a flat-screen TV hanging above the fireplace on the wall opposite.
“The guest room is the first door down the hall, then the bathroom and my bedroom at the end. It’s a small house but I don’t need much.”
“It’s bigger than my apartment.”
“I’ll be in the kitchen. I’m going to give Bishop a call if you need to freshen up or something.”
“Freshen up?” She laughed. “Do I strike you as the type of person who spends a lot of time freshening up?”
“No.” Royce grinned, smile lines again popping at the corners of his mouth and eyes. “You are a badass, tough-as-nails ATF agent. I was giving you the benefit of the doubt.”
“As long as we’re clear.”
That damn spark flew between them again, an electric charge impossible to ignore. Briar knew Royce felt it too, she saw awareness flare in his eyes.
