Chapter Eighteen
“That captain from the Fremont Police Department is back,” Jack said in a hushed tone as he stood in the doorway of Colt’s office. “He and Pond Scum came through here at about eight this morning.”
“Were they looking for me?” Colt had gotten in late after taking Delaney home from the hotel, showering, and changing into his uniform.
“I don’t think so. They went into your office, though. When I heard them I came to investigate and made it known that they shouldn’t be in here. After that they left.”
Colt thought they were probably taking measurements for Brian’s new desk. “Thanks, Jack. Why are you here, anyway?”
“I had some reports to finish and thought I’d clean my office. Between the summer hordes and the burglaries, I haven’t had time to organize.”
Colt sniffed bullshit. Jack was hoping Carrie Jo would come in, which she often did on weekends to catch up. He let it go, though. No reason to embarrass the dude, who clearly had it so bad for their receptionist that he’d waste a perfectly good Saturday off.
“You hear from your friend yet at SFPD?”
“Crickets,” Colt said. “I’ll bug him again. In the meantime, it might be good to put some feelers out there. The sheriff’s department or maybe even Nugget PD might have openings. If Brian comes in, he’ll want to select his own assistant chief, someone loyal to him.”
“I’m not worried about me, but I don’t like the bloody injustice of it. You’re an excellent chief, Colt, and you’re getting shafted.”
“Shit happens.” He tried to sound nonchalant about it, but it would hurt. The bottom line: Colt loved his job and would hate to lose it. “I’ve got a pretty good safety net.”
“You’d go full time at Garner Adventure?”
“Sure. It’s probably time I shouldered some weight there anyway.”
Jack snorted. “You shoulder plenty of weight. If I didn’t know better, I’d think there were two of you.”
“You’re a good friend, Jack.”
Jack started to go, then turned around. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s going on with you and the fashion babe? She seems to have put a little pep in your step. It’s nice.”
Colt knew he’d been a downer since Lisa had left. “Don’t know.” He let out a breath. “I’m probably setting myself up for another heartbreak.” Not probably—he was. But he couldn’t seem to help himself where Delaney was concerned. He was like a kid who couldn’t stop himself from touching a bright flame. The hotter it burned the more it beckoned.
“Why? She not into you?”
“She’s into me.” At least in bed. “Her business is in LA.”
“So? That’s not so far. She planning to split her time between both?”
“I don’t think she knows yet. But when has the long-distance thing ever worked?” And eventually a wealthy fashion designer was going to get bored playing around with a small-town police chief. He could still see the expression on her face when he’d paid for the room at the Ritz. Yeah, that nine hundred bucks would set him back. But he’d do it again if it meant another night like the one he’d had with her.
“If you like her enough you’ll make it work. At least she’s being honest about her situation.” They both knew he was talking about Lisa, who’d sworn up and down she was done with the music industry, but as soon as the first call came in she was off like a shot. “You trust her?”
He had no reason not to. She’d been a straight shooter from the get-go, but he didn’t have any trust left in him. Not since Lisa took off and stole his song. Intellectually, he knew that he couldn’t judge all women by her. But emotionally he couldn’t seem to let his guard down, which made relationships difficult, if not impossible.
Everyone—everyone being his brothers—said he needed to confront his demons, but he didn’t know how. Once bitten, twice shy.
They heard rustling in the bull pen and Jack turned to see what it was. “Carrie Jo’s here.”
Colt watched his friend light up. Poor son of a gun.
“Hey.” She brushed by Jack and made herself comfortable on Colt’s couch. “The whole gang’s here.”
“Pond brought that captain from Fremont back again,” Jack told her.
She grimaced and turned to Colt. “Not good, right?”
He shrugged because what was he going to say? Yeah, I’m getting shit canned.
“Well, I’ve got a double whammy for you. ‘Crazy about You’ just got nominated for a CMA.”
He did a double take, his first thought being, Holy shit, my song is that good? Then anger set in, swirling in the pit of his stomach like fiery acid. He would’ve given Lisa the damned song if she’d only asked. There was a time when he would’ve done anything for her. He told himself that he didn’t care, that he didn’t personally need acknowledgment—or fame. Just knowing that the song was nominated was good enough. He could quietly celebrate the honor with a pint at Old Glory.
His cell went off, ringing and pinging all at the same time. He checked caller ID, saw it was Delaney, and picked up.
“Hey.”
“Are you sitting down?” she asked.
“Carrie Jo already told me.”
“My God, Colt, you’re nominated for a CMA!”
“No, Lisa Laredo is.”
Silence, then finally, “You have to speak up. Now is the time.”
“We’ve already been over this and I’ve got company.”
“Call me later then. I’m not through trying to talk some sense into you.”
“Roger that.” He smiled to himself. Lisa wasn’t someone he talked about, not even with his brothers. But with Delaney he was getting used to it.
Jack had moved to the sofa with Carrie Jo. Both stared at him, curious.
“Who was that?” Carrie Jo asked. “It didn’t sound like one of your brothers. You usually don’t have a goofy grin on your face when you talk to one of them.”
Colt glanced at his texts. His brothers had sent group messages.
Josh: You hear the news?
TJ: WTF?
Win sent a picture of Lisa with a drawn-on mustache. Classy.
“Colt?” Carrie Jo prodded.
“It was Delaney. Looks like the news is out.” He put down his phone to give Carrie Jo his full attention.
“So it’s true—you two are dating?”
He didn’t know what they were doing, only that he’d broken his own policy of not engaging in casual relationships with local women. But for the first time he wasn’t going to overanalyze it. He was just going to enjoy it while it lasted. Until she left.
“Something like that,” he responded. “Why don’t the two of you go home and enjoy the rest of the day.”
“I just came to get my blender.”
“You juicing again?” Jack asked her as they both got up to leave Colt’s office.
When they were gone he turned on his computer and searched the Country Music Awards. According to the Web site, the nominations had been announced Friday night and had made the news this morning. He scrolled through various headlines until he came to one about Lisa. She was thrilled and honored, the story said. Blah, blah, blah. How did Lisa look at herself in the mirror every day?
He closed out of the page and tried his former SFPD partner. Voice mail, so he left a message. Any intel Colt gathered wouldn’t help him keep his job, but at least he could prepare his staff. He wondered whether Ben had examined his contract yet but didn’t want to bother him on a Saturday. Whatever the paperwork said, Colt knew the mayor would find a loophole large enough to walk through. Pond was obviously high on this Brian guy to have him come up twice. Colt suspected the city was footing the bill, which meant the council had to know. Yet no one had said a word. Not even Rita, who’d been friends with his parents since the 1970s.
He spent a few hours doing paperwork, keeping his ear on the police scanner, and ignoring his brothers’ constant texts. Thank goodness the three of them were guiding tours today or they’d be here, giving Colt a rash of shit for not calling foul on Lisa. He thought about his night with Delaney—how hot and spontaneous it’d been. For a woman who claimed not to be adventurous, she’d rocked his world. Her ex-husband was a pig. He didn’t want to even think about what she’d told him about Robert.
At three he got called out on another burglary. Unlike the others, this involved an eighty-two-year-old woman with dementia, who’d mistaken someone else’s house for her own. When the owners came home they found her napping in their bed. Thinking that she’d locked herself out, she’d managed to crawl through an open window. He’d gotten her home to her kids, who’d been ready to call the National Guard. One of the woman’s daughters had been so grateful that she’d loaded him up with enough apples from her tree to feed a small country.
That’s what it was like being the police chief of a small town. Best job in the world.
At six he went home, exhausted. He and Delaney had only gotten a few hours’ sleep, which he wasn’t complaining about, but he wanted to lay low and hoped like hell that he didn’t get called out on anything. As he rummaged through his fridge, searching for something he could call dinner, someone tapped lightly on the door.
Delaney stood there, her hands full of take-out bags. He took them from her and ushered her in.
“From the Indian place,” she said. “I hope you haven’t eaten yet.”
“Nope.” He sniffed the bags. “Smells great. Thanks, I’m starved.”
She went to his cupboards and started setting the table and he wondered when they’d gotten so domestic. Most nights he fended for himself or went to Old Glory. On the rare occasion when he had time, he dropped by his parents for a home-cooked meal. But a guy could get used to this.
“What did you do today?” he asked while she flitted around his kitchen, opening cartons and spooning them into what few serving bowls he had.
“I designed a dress.” She turned around, leaned against his tile counter, and beamed. “A gorgeous dress. A dress that will kick off a whole new couture collection. I’m back, Colt! Delaney Scott is back.”
Lord, did she rev him up. Seeing her this way ... so happy. He pinned her against the counter and kissed her. “Welcome back!”
“I think it’s the sex. We have to have more tonight because I need to knock out a few more pieces.”
“I’m willing to take one for the team ... you know, if it’ll help.”
“Thank you. Very magnanimous of you.”
“I thought so.” His lips did a slow crawl down her neck. She smelled good, like that expensive perfume she always wore. “What about the outdoors stuff?”
“What about it? As soon as you guys test everything and I make whatever adjustments you deem necessary, I’m shipping it off to the manufacturer. Oh my God, Colt, I’ll have two lines. Two lines. A few weeks ago, I had nothing.” She wrapped her arms around his midsection and coaxed him into a little twirl.
“Food’s getting cold,” he said, and danced her over to the pantry, where he just so happened to have a bottle of wine. “If you want me to keep my energy up . . .”
“Yes, by all means, eat.”
But he didn’t want to let her go. Holding on, he maneuvered her to the cabinet with the glasses and got two down from the shelf, then balanced them in one hand and her in the other. “You mind getting the corkscrew?” He bobbed his chin at the drawer.
She got the opener out and he moved them toward the table.
“I guess we’ll have to let go if we want to eat,” he said, and bent down to kiss her nose.
“Okay.” But she still had him around the waist, so they stood there for a while, just staring into each other’s eyes. Colt felt like a sap but he couldn’t seem to stop. “You go first.”
He pulled out a chair for her and gently pushed her down, switching his gaze to all the food she’d brought. Enough for an army. He took his own seat and scooped a little bit of everything onto his plate.
“Thanks. This’ll hit the spot.”
“I figured we needed to celebrate your nomination.” She pierced him with a look.
“It’s no big deal, and I’d appreciate it if you’d drop it. I’ve been harangued enough by my brothers.”
“So you don’t plan to out her?”
“What would be the point in that?” He felt like a goddamned broken record. “The damage has already been done. And I don’t care about the money and I don’t care about the fame.”
“What about not letting Lisa Laredo get away with taking credit for your work? If someone stole one of my designs—”
Colt put up his hand. “Stop. This is not top on my priority list, Delaney. I’ve got bigger problems.”
Her face dropped. “What? What’s going on?”
“Pond waltzed that captain from Fremont PD around the station again. It’s looking more and more like my days are numbered there.”
“Oh no! Isn’t there something you can do?”
“I’m checking my contract, but if he wants to get rid of me . . .”
“I’m sorry, Colt. You’re a wonderful chief. The mayor has to know how popular you are. Getting rid of you will turn the whole town against him, and when he’s up for reelection, I’ll personally head up a group to campaign against him.”
He appreciated the sentiment, he really did. “You won’t be here, Delaney.”
She was over her design slump, over Robert, over the moon about her new collection. Her Los Angeles house had sold and soon she’d need a new one. It didn’t take a crack detective to see that her life was falling neatly into place and that there wasn’t much in Glory Junction to hold her. Not even him.
She didn’t contradict him, dashing any far-fetched hope that he was wrong.
“LA is not so far away,” she finally said.
He was getting sick of hearing that. It was 486 miles, to be precise. A whole day by car and a half day by plane if he factored in the drive to the airport, the long security lines, and LA traffic. But more importantly it was a different world—a different galaxy—than the slow pace of Glory Junction. Soon, she’d have no reason to come back, especially when she didn’t even ski.
“Nope,” he said, and shoveled in a forkful of food. “Just a hop, skip, and a jump.”
“What’ll you do if you lose your job?”
“Work for Garner Adventure full time, I suppose. What else do you have in mind for this collection of yours?”
She frowned. “We’re going to talk fashion now?”
Anything was better than talking about him. “I’m interested.”
She gave him a look like she didn’t believe him for a minute but launched into her plans anyway. “The concept is elegant mountain living with a little bit of adventure mixed in. I’m even doing cargo trousers. I wonder where I came up with that idea?” She went on to exuberantly describe the pieces she envisioned.
He had no idea what elegant mountain living looked like or if it was even a thing. But he loved hearing her talk, the way her face filled with animation as she described the fabrics and textures and colors she wanted to use. The way her very essence vibrated with excitement. It was the same way she embraced sex. All in. And, man, did it turn him on.
“Your eyes are glazing over,” she said.
“No, they’re not. I like hearing about what you’re working on. And we forgot to toast.” He raised his glass of wine. “To your new collection.”
She clinked her glass with his. “To your CMA nomination.”
Such as it was, he thought to himself.
“Come here.” He crooked his finger. “Let’s go upstairs.”