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"Or she's a criminal," Tate mutters.
I turn a dirty glare on him.
"Just saying," he says, smirking at me.
"She's not a fucking criminal," I growl.
"I mean, technically, she did pull a hit and run today," he points out.
I growl wordlessly, which makes him chuckle. He crosses the deck to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.
"Welcome to the club, brother," he says through laughter. "You're in for a helluva ride."
"Oh!" Samara beams. "He's joining the MC?"
"Not that club, angel. I'm talking about the falling in love club."
"Oh," my sister-in-law says. And then her eyes widen. "Oh."
"Why am I not surprised to see you?" Dillon Armstrong drawls, glancing at me from across his desk first thing in the morning. The half-smirk on his face irritates the shit out of me.
He had the same expression yesterday, like he knew damn well that I was lying about why we no longer needed a report. He knows something I don't. I feel it in my bones.
"You know who she is," I growl, stomping into his office…though office might be pushing it. The room looks more like a storage closet he hides out in than a functioning office. There's even a mop propped up in the corner. "You work in here?"
"Fuck no. I work in my SUV," he mutters, nodding toward the doors. "I sit in here when I don't want to be bothered." He arches a brow and snorts. "Not that it fucking helps because you people still find me."
"You took the job."
"Do you want my help or not?"
I bite my tongue.
"That's what I thought." He eyes me sideways. "Why are you here, asking me who she is? I thought the two of you were working it out between the two of you."
"There was a situation," I say carefully.
"Mmhmm. Did it start with bull and end with shit?"
"Something like that." I scrub a hand across my head, muttering a curse. "You know who she is?"
"Maybe."
"Is she wanted for any sort of crime?"
"Nope."
Well, thank fuck for that.
"Will you use anything I say against her?"
"You're not worried about me using it against you?" He lifts a brow, seemingly surprised.
"I can take care of myself."
"You don't think she can?"
"She backed into me to save a fucking turtle that could have gone around her," I mutter, leaning up against a wobbling shelf stacking precariously high with dusty manuals. "And then hid from you behind a tree."
"You're shitting me."
"Nope."
Dillon snorts laughter. "Razor is going to fucking love this," he mumbles and then laughs again before setting his coffee mug down on his desk.
"Who the fuck is Razor?"
"Jealous?"
Is punching the sheriff for being a dick against the law? Asking for a friend.
"He's my brother-in-law, you possessive asshole," Dillon says, his smirk growing.
"And what does he have to do with this?" If she's dating him, I might have to kill the sheriff's brother-in-law. That'll go over like a lead balloon, but no one is dating my kitten but me. Fuck that.
"You tell me what really happened yesterday, and I'll consider telling you what you want to know." He leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers together behind his head.
"Fuck, fine," I mutter, convinced he's an extortionist posing as the sheriff. Silver Spoon Falls must have been hard up when they voted him into office. "She said she didn't have a license or insurance so I'd send you on your way, then took off on me."
"Wait. You actually fell for this?" He throws his head back, cackling like an old lady.
"No, I didn't fall for it." I think I hate the sheriff. He's enjoying this far too much. "I thought she was in some sort of trouble."
"Jesus Christ." He laughs again. "Every damn time someone falls in love around here, it's a shitshow, and I get a front-row seat. I don't need a gun. I need popcorn."
"How did you even get this job?" I ask, glaring balefully. Jesus. This entire town is crazy. Every time I come here, I feel like I stepped into some movie where everyone knows the plot except me. They're all in on it except me. Are all small towns like this or did my pain-in-the-ass twin pick this small town just to screw with me?
"People like me." Dillon shrugs.
"They pity you. There's a difference. Tell me what you know."
"Yeah, about that," he says, rubbing a hand across his jaw. "All I can tell you is that she isn't wanted by the police, she isn't in any danger, and she doesn't live in town."
I stare at him in disbelief. "That's it?"
"What more do you want?"
"Her fucking name, for starters."
"You didn't even get her name?" He shakes his head like he pities me. "Goddamn, Xavier. Even Tate has more game than you."
"I'm guessing it's not Charlotte Lemming," I mutter, pretending I didn't hear anything else he said so I don't have to deal with it. Deny, deny until I die. It's my new motto.
