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“You’re the first state trooper I’ve seen since I moved to town several weeks ago,” Liam tells him, dangling some bait to catch info.
“We don’t pass through here too often. Real quiet town that I’m surprised isn’t too broke to even exist. Usually once a year when some complaints roll in from tourists claiming a lot of illegal activity is going on is when we cruise through. We never find anything. You seen anything?” he asks, looking at Liam and narrowing his eyes.
“Saw a particularly shady raccoon digging in my trashcan the other morning,” Liam deadpans.
I bite back a laugh and turn my head away to hide my smile.
“The town has been a little eerily quiet other than that,” Liam adds.
The trooper grunts, still scribbling.
“It doesn’t make sense why we get these calls every year, yet never find anything. I came early, hoping to surprise the locals. More are coming, but I’ve already heard something akin to an explosion down the road that I’m going to investigate.”
“Could be an ongoing prank—the calls, I mean.” Liam is sounding helpful to the trooper, but I’m a little concerned about how easily he lies, as though he does it all the time. “And the explosions could have been fireworks.”
“Could be,” the guy agrees. “Every year, the damn wild life wreaks havoc on us. Worst woods in the country, if you ask me. I’m the only repeat trooper coming this year. The rest are new guys.”
Liam quirks a questioning eyebrow at me, but I just look around, avoiding eye contact, and hiding my secretive grin.
It takes a long few minutes, but the trooper finally hands Liam his ticket. Liam accepts it with a smile and some spoken gratitude.
“You drunk?” the trooper asks, eyeing him suspiciously.
“I can take a breathalyzer if you want,” Liam suggests helpfully.
This takes longer, giving Killian and the Wilders more time to act.
I hide my relief with a tight smile as the trooper shakes his head, reading the sober results of the test.
“Weird fucking town,” he mutters under his breath before finally sending us on our way.
I snatch Liam’s phone, and he grins as I start dialing Vick—our one local cop.
“So now a phone is handy?”
I ignore him, and speak when Vick answers.
“Troopers are here. Shut the town down.”
I hang up, and Liam looks at me like he’s confused as he pulls away, driving us forward at a decent, legal speed.
“Shut down the entire town?”
“Every part of the town has something at least semi-illegal or unlawful going on. The local grocer rents floor space out to locals. Locals set up stands inside and sell moonshine made by unlicensed men. Also, the moonshine is past the legal limit. And then others set up, bypassing health codes and federal food regulations—we know how to keep food safe without doing all that other shit. Penny even sells her jam there.”
He nods like he’s taking all that in.
“The bar doesn’t have a liquor license. He uses his brother’s liquor license, and his brother runs the liquor store downtown. They fudge the books and stuff. Then Caroline runs a gambling ring under her dance studio.”
“A gambling ring? The old lady with the beehive bun?” he asks incredulously.
I nod.
“Then of course there are the pot runners. A lot of runs are made to distribute all the pot the Wilders grow. Vick handles selling it to the locals. But, yeah. Nothing stronger than pot is allowed. You will go to jail for that. And then Molly sells baked pot goods at the bakery—”
“That suddenly makes so much sense,” he says, still driving.
The Wilders own a lot of land, so it takes a while to get back to town.
“What does?”
“Molly’s daughter was one of my admirers—” I growl a little, and he grins. “—and she brought me some brownies from her momma’s bakery. I ate the entire pan. Normally I don’t eat sweets.” He pats his abs through his shirt, winking over at me. “But I couldn’t stop once I started. And I laughed for no fucking reason until my ribs hurt. Felt high as a fucking kite for hours and hours. Then I raided my fridge for an hour. The next day I spent four hours doing sit-ups, worried I was going to be soft before I finally got to see you.”
I try not to laugh. I forgot how easy it was for him to do this to me.
The uncontrollable grins. The freaking stupid-girl giggles. The vagina butterflies.
How did I forget all this?
“Sugar is the main component of Killian’s and Hale’s diets, and they still maintain a six-pack with ease,” I decide to say with a mocking lilt.
He cuts his eyes toward me.
“I’m aware. Thanks for pointing that out.”
I laugh a little under my breath, trying and failing not to smile over at him. When he winks at me, I’m transported back to those three weirdly perfect weeks where he was mine.
