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“No you di—”
“It was definitely me,” Sidney interrupts me to give me an annoyed glare, daring me to open my mouth again, before she quickly looks back at the sheriff with a smile. “It was just my luck the Harvest Grove Market was having a buy-one-get-one-free special on potatoes and gravy today. Want me to show you the receipt?”
She’s lying. I don’t knowwhyshe’s lying, but she is. And I don’t like it.
“You know the drill; let’s go.” The sheriff sighs as Sidney gives me a salute that makes me want to laugh again, before she moves away from me to join the man in the doorway.
“It was nice meeting you, Ford Prescott. If you’ll excuse me, I need to be arrested now. Please don’t let this affect the way you view me as an employee of Wicked Pub and Grub. I am anexcellentemployee, regardless of my arrest record. Marcus, call my mom and tell her to scrounge up some bail money!” Sidney looks away from me to shout to the man behind the bar, who already has a phone in his hand and waves it in her direction.
“Already tried. She didn’t answer.”
“Shit… ofcourseshe didn’t,” Sidney mutters.
Everything inside of me suddenly turns into a cold block of ice, watching the sheriff slip a pair of handcuffs over her delicate wrists. Nausea churns in my stomach at the thought of her spending time behind bars for something she clearly didn’t do and, for some reason, doesn’t want me to confirm.
Marcus is moving out from behind the bar and joining me as we both watch Sidney being taken away.
“Don’t worry, big guy. I’ll be fine,” she tells me with a flirty wink over her shoulder before disappearing out the door with the sheriff.
But not before I see a look of sheer panic on her face, making it turn a little white and my stomach drop right down into my goddamn feet that she’s scared and being taken away from me so I can’t make it better.
Her words are the only thing keeping my feet rooted in place, instead of racing after her to fix her problem. She’s right; she’ll be fine. This is clearly something that happens all the time, going by Marcus’s quick phone call.
Having her out of sight finally makes me pull my head out of my ass, and a little clarity comes back. I don’t belong here. I’m not planning on staying here, and I have my own problems to deal with. I don’t need to be a fucking knight in shining armor for some woman with trust issues and an arrest record, who I just met. Who clearly has two blonde, teenage problems of her own she needs to deal with, who have absolutely nothing to do with me.
“She’s not gonna be fine, FYI.”
I shoot a questioning glance at Marcus, when the door slams shut after Sidney and the sheriff disappear out into the crowd of people on the sidewalk. Even though I don’t give a shit why Sidney won’t be fine.
Right, sure. Keep telling yourself that, buddy.
“She’ssuperclaustrophobic. If she spends any more than an hour in that jail, she’s gonna have a panic attack.” Marcus sighs, looking down at the phone in his hand and mumbling about calling someone named Callie to see if she can bail her out using some of their honeymoon fund.
Thinking about that woman all alone and freaking out in any way makes me grind my teeth, and the urge to throw the sheriff through the fucking window comes back tenfold.
Don’t do it, Ford. You have enough shit to deal with, remember?
I don’t listen to the voice in my head, because right now, the only thing I can remember is the way Sidney looked at me when I rescued a pair of her underwear… and the only thing I suddenly care about is wondering what it would take to earn that woman’s trust.
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter with a few more curses as I start walking toward the door. “Put your phone away, and show me where the damn jail is.”
Chapter 5
Ford
“Buckle up, buttercup.”
Present Day
“What are youdoing, man?”
Flipping the page of the binder in front of me resting on top of the bar, I take a drink of my coffee. I don’t bother looking up, even though all the numbers started blurring together as soon as I opened it. It’s not like I ever really pay attention to them anyway. And definitely not today, when I’ve been too busy thinking about the past.
“Going over the daily sales reports, just like I do every year when I get here. Followed by the inventory reports and then the labor reports.”
Another flip of the page while my eyes move over to the screen of my phone, checking the time.
She’s late for work. Why the hell hasn’t she called or answered my texts? That’s not like her at all.
