“I know.”
“Just because he’s gone doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten. I have every intention of seeing that promise through.”
“In Boston—”
“You work shit hours and have no friends. You’re not living in Boston, you’re existing,” the sheriff said, glancing over at the counter where Maisy favored her good hip and flinched when she laughed at something Gerald said.
The rib.
“She took six elbows to the ribs last night.”
Sheriff Chase cocked his head and smiled. “Did she? You were there to see it?”
“I walked right into that trap.”
“You did, but it’s not like I wouldn’t have heard about it anyway. Word around town travels faster than the empanadas from that food truck over on Route One tearing through a colon.”
“What in the fresh hell is the fascination this town has with digestion all of a sudden?”
“On that note, I need to get to the station,” the sheriff said with a gruff laugh. “I’m leaving that position open for a while. You’re my first choice.”
“Not going to hap—”
“Don’t even bother, son. I’m more stubborn than you and I’ll win.”
I stood and reached out to shake the sheriff’s hand. “I’m paying for breakfast then.”
“Joke’s on you, I’m going to let you.” The sheriff’s hand fell away, and he glanced up at Maisy and tipped his hat. “You get some rest now, Maisy Jane. Tell Scooter he outdid himself with the omelets.”
“Will do. Stay safe out there,” she said, giving him a quick smile.
“Always.”
Mayhem crossed her arms and tapped her foot, her temperature cooling a good forty degrees with the sheriff’s retreating back. “Anything else I can get for you?”
“The check.”
“Done.” She reached for the order pad tucked into her jeans pocket, wobbled, sucked in a jagged breath, caught her balance, and slapped the receipt on the table.
Fucking hell. “Tell me about the rib.”
She flicked me an irritated glance, all but telling me to fuck off with her wary eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with my rib. Now, if you ask me about my back, that’s a whole different story.”
“Show me.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” she said with a snort.
I reached for her arm before she could storm off. “You have a chiropractor?”
She glanced down at my fingers wrapped around her elbow. “Of course. I also have a money tree growing out my ass. Wanna see?”
“Cute.”
“That’s unfortunate, I wasn’t trying to be.”
“I’ll dismiss it as the pain talking and not your glowing personality.”
“Or you could just call it what it is. I don’t like you,” she spat back.
“Most people don’t.”
“Now that I believe.”
With two fingers tucked between my lips, I blew and let out a whistle that had every patron turning our way. Not really my intention, but that was the only way to get Scooter’s attention.
The retired fisherman popped his head up in the pass and glowered. “What?”
“Maisy’s taking five.”
“She’s the only one out there.”
“Ahh, let her go. We can get along for a few minutes,” Milton said with a wave of his hand as he sipped away at his coffee.
“Five minutes. That’s it,” Scooter said, pointing his greasy spatula at us through the pass.
“Come on.”
“You’re nuts.”
“And you’re maddening. Now move it.”
“Yes, Coach,” she said with a roll of her eyes. But I noticed the way her steps faltered with the snide comment.
Because…the rib.
I was going to take care of that sucker and say farewell to Mayhem once and for all.
I led her through the side exit the employees used. The same one I used for a year washing dishes as a teenager here at night, when the menu switched from gut-busting breakfasts to fried fish and seafood fresh from the ocean.
The spring-loaded door slammed shut behind us, reminding me of all the times I used to cut out here to kiss my girlfriend, Shelby.
Okay, putting that memory away now.
I gave the railing a hard shake to make sure it was solid. Falling fifteen feet to the lower parking lot, probably not the help she was looking for.
Not that she wanted any help, but she sure as hell was going to get it, whether she liked it or not.
She hugged herself against the cold. “This is how I die, isn’t it?”
4
“Are you ever not a smart-ass?” he said, cutting me with a hard glare from warm brown eyes that crinkled at the corners.
Brown fucking eyes like melted chocolate, with threads of caramel swirled in. Eyes of a languid lover smoldering with heat and promise.
God, I hate that I noticed. And maybe that was my problem with him all along.
His presence.
Commanding attention with a heavy silence, he held it in his grasp with the silent storm raging in his eyes, making me want to get closer and run all at the same time.
Making me want to hear his secrets, but only from him so he could consume me with the way they rolled off his scathing tongue.
All starting from that metal folding chair outside the track.
If only he’d keep his mouth shut because every observation, every question, every biting reply washed over me like the frigid, unforgiving Atlantic in early February.
And that was the only reason my nipples had perked up.
The cold water.
Not the eyes.
Or the forearms. Yeah, I hadn’t forgotten those. If anything, I may have imagined sinking my teeth into them.
I flashed him a grin, my smile dialed to eat-me-fucker. “Smart-ass is the only mood I’ve got.”
Shoving his hand through his short-cropped hair, he shook his head. “One thing I didn’t miss? The attitudes.”
“I can’t begin to imagine why you even care about a pinched nerve.” I fought the urge to spin away from the gust of air sweeping through the parking lot. My Henley tee had nothing on frigid late fall air. Early December temperatures sat firmly in the mid-thirties, but with the breeze rolling in off the ocean, the chill bit into my skin leaving a bone-deep cold even the sun burning in the cloudless sky couldn’t penetrate.
“It’s not a pinched nerve,” he muttered as he snatched his jacket from his elbow.
