“What the fuck?”
I hit the brakes hard, barely making the turn into the parking lot where a Bozeman PD cruiser was parked behind a seventies mint-green Oldsmobile. The patrolman had his ticket clipboard in one hand, while the other was making calming gestures to an irate woman with frizzy gray hair. Her teal muumuu was swinging around her ankles and fuzzy pink bedroom slippers as she poked one knotty finger into the patrolman’s chest.
As I pulled in right behind the cruiser, I could hear her yelling and cussing over the sound of my diesel engine. Throwing the truck in park, I didn’t bother shutting it off as I hustled out to the scene. Five long strides and I stood behind the patrolman—Officer Terrell Parnow. He was doing his best to hold his ground, but the woman wasn’t small and her jabbing finger was going nonstop.
The woman glanced at me but kept on yelling. “I’m calling my damn lawyer and you, you son of a—”
“What seems to be the problem?” My voice held enough bark to shut the crazy lady up. Her eyes flew to mine as Terrell looked over his shoulder.
His frame deflated as his hand dropped to his side. “Detective Goodman. I was just writing a ticket because—”
“I’ll tell you what the problem is here.” The woman stepped right around Terrell and into my face. “This kid is trying to give me a speeding ticket when I wasn’t speeding!”
“Ma’am, you were doing forty in a twenty-five.” He looked to me with pleading brown eyes. “Honest, Detective. I’ve got her on radar.”
She whirled around on Terrell—her muumuu whipping me in the shins—but before she could launch into another rant, I stepped between them. I stood my tallest, looking right down my nose into the woman’s paling face. “Speeding and assault on a law enforcement officer. Not good.”
She stuttered back a step, slapping a hand to her chest. “What?” she gasped. “Assault?”
“That’s right.”
“But—”
“Officer Parnow, mind if I borrow your cuffs? I left mine in the truck.”
The woman gasped again.
“Detective, I don’t, um . . .” He moved out from behind me to my side, speaking underneath his breath. “I don’t think we need to charge her with assault.”
“I’ll take the speeding ticket.” The woman flew to Terrell’s side like he was her new best friend. “Please.”
I held back a grin, fighting to keep the scowl on my face. “I don’t know. It looked awful serious when I pulled up.”
“I get carried away sometimes,” she told me, then looked over to Terrell, nodding fiercely. “I was going too fast. You were right.”
Terrell looked to me and I shrugged. “It’s your call, Officer.”
He nodded, turning back to the woman who was now clinging to his arm. “Ma’am, if you’ll get back in your car, I’ll finish with the speeding ticket. Then you can be on your way.”
“Oh, thank you.” She squeezed his arm and then let him go, ducking eye contact with me as she scurried back into her Olds.
When her driver’s door shut, I chuckled.
“Would you have charged her?” Terrell asked.
“Nah. I just wanted to shut her up.”
Terrell grinned. “Smart.”
I shrugged and jerked my chin to the Olds. “Give her the ticket and get her on her way.”
“Yes, sir.” He took his clipboard back to her window, returning her license and registration. Then he tore off a goldenrod speeding ticket and away she roared, pulling out of the parking lot with—careful—haste.
“Thanks.” Terrell joined me by his cruiser and sighed. “That got out of hand. Seems to be happening to me a lot lately.”
“Unfortunately, that’s part of the job.”
“Every time? I haven’t had a stop in a month without getting a load of shit. Do you think I’m doing something wrong?”
“I doubt it.” I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Come on. I’ll go out on patrol with you for a while.”
His entire face lit up. “Really?”
“Really. Let me grab my keys.” I walked back to my truck, leaning in to shut off the ignition and get my keys. Then I plucked my sunglasses out of the console and went to the cruiser.
Sliding into the passenger seat, I grinned at Terrell’s excitement. His dark face was split with a wide, white smile, and his fingers drummed on the wheel.
“So you’ve been having some rough stops lately?” I asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.
“Yeah.” His smile turned down. “No matter how polite I am, everyone fights the ticket. I asked a couple of the other guys on patrol, but none of them seem to be having the same problem.”
I didn’t want to be the one to break it to the kid, but his face was probably the reason he’d had such a hard time lately. Not because of the color of his skin, but because at twenty-something years old, Terrell Parnow had a baby face if I’d ever seen one.
Round, chubby cheeks. Soft brown eyes. There wasn’t a thing hard or angular about him. Add to that his shorter stature and skinny frame, and the only intimidating thing about the kid was his gun.
But if someone didn’t step in, his confidence would keep getting rattled and only make the situation worse. He’d either quit the force or someone would think they could push him too far.
“Look, Terrell. I’ll be straight with you here.” I slid off my sunglasses so he could see my eyes. “You’re fighting an uphill battle. You’re half the size of most guys on patrol, and people aren’t going to take you seriously by default. You’ve got to figure out a way to be assertive but not come across as a dick. Find the balance between pushover and asshole. Understand?”
Terrell stayed quiet. The radio clicked on and off as dispatch made calls to other cars, but the kid didn’t say a word.
Shit. Was that too blunt? Had I scared him? He had to know he looked like a teenager, right? I opened my mouth to tone it down a bit, but he spoke up first.
“What if I grew a beard?”
I grinned. “It’s worth a shot.”
“Thanks, Detective. I appreciate the honesty.”
“No problem. And it’s Cole.”
He nodded. “Cole.”
“One other thing,” I said as we passed another patrol car heading in the opposite direction. “If the other guys on patrol say every stop is a good one, they’re full of shit. With every four good stops, you’ll have one bad. That’s normal for everyone and we’ve all been there. Toughen up that skin and don’t let the bad ones get to you.”
“Okay.” He nodded. We rode in silence for a few blocks until Terrell spoke again. “What should I have done differently with that woman?”
I rubbed my jaw, the stubble thicker than normal because I hadn’t shaved this morning. “If I was in your spot today, I wouldn’t have let her out of the car. I wouldn’t have let her cuss at me, and I sure as fuck wouldn’t have let her touch me. But when I was your age? When I was a rookie? I probably would have done the same thing as you. I would have stood there and taken her shit until she ran out of steam. Then I would have handed her the ticket and gotten back in my cruiser and had a beer when I got home.”
“No shit?” His frame perked up.
“No shit.”
For the next hour, we drove around Bozeman, staying fairly quiet. I’d been on my way to Poppy’s restaurant for an early dinner break when I’d seen Terrell, but this hour or two was important for the young patrolman. So I rode along, marveling at how much my hometown had changed over the years.
Bozeman had once been a small college ski town, but the population had boomed these last ten years. Big-box stores and chain restaurants had flocked to this mountain valley. Construction had reached an all-time high as builders replaced wheat fields with apartment complexes and townhomes. Open lots had been filled with tech centers and office buildings.
“Have you lived here long?” I asked Terrell.
“Just a couple of years. I moved from Arizona to Montana for the skiing, then decided to go to the academy.”
“Bozeman is changing fast. None of this was here when I was in high school.” I pointed to the new subdivisions on both sides of the street. We were at the far edge of town, miles from where I remembered the last stoplight being when I was a kid.
Terrell smiled. “I hear we might be getting a Best Buy.”
I frowned. “Great.” I could live without a Best Buy.
I missed the hometown feel that Bozeman once had. I ran into fewer and fewer familiar faces at the grocery store these days. I got stuck in traffic almost every morning. And walking down Main Street, something I remembered fondly as a kid, now just pissed me off. The local shops had lost some of their authenticity, becoming too fancy in an effort to mimic ski towns like Aspen or Breckenridge.
Out went the small-town charm and in came the higher crime rate.
Bozeman was getting to be as bad as a fucking big city. Drugs. Murder. We were even seeing a stronger gang influence.
“Whoa. What the hell?”
I was snapped out of my thoughts as Terrell’s head whipped to the side. An orange Chevy Blazer streaked past us, speeding in the opposite direction.
In a split second, Terrell had the siren blaring and lights flashing and was flipping a tire-screeching U-turn. His foot dug into the gas pedal as the cruiser’s engine revved. We caught the Blazer in no time, following it over to the shoulder.
“You take the lead,” I told Terrell as I unbuckled.
He nodded and we both got out of the cruiser. Approaching with caution, always at the ready like we’d both been taught, Terrell came up on the driver’s side window while I took the opposite.
“Evening,” Terrell greeted the driver. “License, registration and proof of insurance, please?”
I bent low to look through the open passenger window. The driver, a young college kid, was fumbling in his wallet. His shaking fingers had to try three times to get his license out of the plastic slot. “Here you go.” His voice was as rattled as his fingers as he handed the card to Terrell.
“Do you know why I pulled you over,” Terrell looked to the card, “Quincy?”
“I was, um, speeding?”
Terrell nodded. “The speed limit here is forty.”
“Oh. Really?”
Come on, Quincy. Don’t play dumb. Why did the young ones always try and play dumb?
Terrell frowned. “Go ahead and get me your registration and proof of insurance.”
“Okay.” Quincy reached across the dash, his gaze skidding away from mine. With a pop, he opened the glove box and set off a paper explosion. Receipts. Candy wrappers. University parking tickets. It all came spilling out—including an ID that landed right on the seat by my window, faceup.
My eyes narrowed at the Colorado ID. Quincy’s picture was next to the name Jason Chen. I squinted and made out a birthdate. “Jason Chen” was twenty-seven.
Fuck that. If this kid was twenty-seven, then I was in my damn forties.
“Quincy, I think you’d better get out of the car,” I said. “And bring that other ID with you.”
Ten minutes later, Quincy was shaking my hand and promising never to buy a fake ID again.
“Thank you. Thank you so much, Officer.”
I let his hand go. “Don’t do it again.”
“I won’t.” He shook his head. “I promise. I won’t. It was stupid of me to get that fake ID in the first place.”
“This is your once, Quincy.” I held up one finger to his nose. “Your one free pass and your one chance to learn from your mistake. Don’t take it for granted because you won’t get a twice.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“Good.” I jerked my head to the Blazer. “Now get out of here.”
He nodded and rushed back to the SUV, waving to Terrell and me as he pulled back onto the road.
“Why’d you do it?” Terrell asked. “Why’d you let him off with a warning?”
I shrugged. “Way back when, I had someone give me a once and it changed my life. I pay it forward when I can. Besides, that kid was harmless. We took his fake ID. We could have written him up, but I think we made a more lasting impression this way, don’t you?”
“I sure do. That kid was about to piss himself.” Terrell nodded and started back to the cruiser. “A once. I like that.”
I grinned, knowing Terrell would be stealing a term I’d stolen myself. “Just use them wisely.”
Frozen in the doorway of The Maysen Jar, I watched as Poppy smiled and laughed with an elderly man sitting by the register.
Damn, she was beautiful.
It was hours later than I’d planned to be at the restaurant. Terrell had dropped me off at my truck after the Quincy incident and I’d come straight here, so anxious to see Poppy that I’d had a hard time obeying the speed limit myself.
But I was here now and I couldn’t get past the damn door.
“Excuse me.”
A lady stood behind me, wanting to get past. “Sorry.” I unstuck my feet and stepped inside, holding the door open for her.
As the lady joined a friend at a table, I stayed at the back wall, watching Poppy work. Her hair was up, tied in a knot secured by two pencils. A black apron was tied around the waistband of her jeans. Her white V-neck tee with the restaurant’s logo on the pocket draped perfectly down her breasts, hinting at just a bit of cleavage as it fell down her flat stomach.
Beautiful.
Her smile was so natural and charismatic. She mesmerized her customers, laughing and chatting as she worked. She mesmerized me.
So I stood at the back, doing my best to blend into the brick wall as I watched. I relished every second of her unguarded smile, because as soon as she spotted me, she’d be back on alert. She’d throw up her wall, just like she’d done last night when she’d spotted me outside of Mom’s music studio.
I’d lectured Terrell earlier about finding a balance, but damn if I wasn’t having a hell of a time finding one with Poppy. Was I pushing her too fast? Too hard? Not enough?
When I was around, she had a war raging inside her head. She’d look at me and I’d see that desire spark behind her eyes. But then she’d smother it, letting her face twist with guilt. I hated that look. I hated putting it on her face.
If I were a stronger man, I would have stayed away and given her time. But here I was, lurking at the back of her restaurant, so drawn to her that I’d barely blinked.
As if she knew I was thinking about her, Poppy’s eyes searched the restaurant. The second she spotted me, her body strung tight. She looked away, studying the counter for a moment as her shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. But then she shocked me with a slow, gorgeous smile.
I was fucking doomed.
That smile—and the finger wave that went along with it—would have had me swaying on my feet if not for the brick wall at my back.
A customer snagged Poppy’s attention and I took a moment to get my heart rate under control. Three deep breaths and I was steady, striding across the restaurant.
“Is this seat taken?” I asked the elderly man at the counter.
“No,” he grunted.
“Thanks.” I slid into the stool, catching Poppy’s eye as she rang up her customer’s order. “Hey.”
“Hi. Give me one sec.”
“Take your time.” She went back to ringing up a customer’s order and I turned to the old man. “Mind if I snag a menu?”
He grunted again as he lifted one off the stack by the register and pushed it down the counter.
I scanned the menu, debating my options. Maybe one day I wouldn’t need a menu. Maybe I’d be around enough that I’d have all the choices memorized. And maybe one day I’d get a different greeting from Poppy. I’d be allowed behind the counter so I could tuck her into my side and kiss her hair as I said hello.
“Here’s hoping,” I mumbled.
“What was that?” the elderly man asked.
“Oh, uh, just hoping she’s got more of that mac ’n’ cheese.” Piss poor recovery, Cole. Piss poor. “Have you eaten here much?”
“Every day.” His chest puffed up as he made his declaration. “This is my seat.”
“An expert. Nice. Any recommendations?”
“Meh. Her potpies are all right.”
“All right?” Poppy stepped right in front of the old man and planted her hands on her hips. “Sheesh. Is that why you’ve had four of them today? Because they were just all right?”
The man glared up at Poppy as she scowled back. Was that what this guy did? He came into her restaurant and criticized her food all damn day? I opened my mouth to put this old geezer in his place—no one glared at Poppy—but the corner of her mouth twitched.
“Oh, stop.” She waved off his glare and smiled. “Randall James. Meet Cole Goodman.”
Randall turned to acknowledge me. He looked me up and down twice, each time his eyes lingering a bit on my gun.
I held out my hand first, and he shocked the shit out of me by actually taking it. “Nice to meet you, Randall.”
“Same.”
“Do you want some dinner?” Poppy asked me.
“Please. Surprise me, but don’t forget my dessert this time.”
“Last weekend I made up a new mixed berry pie in honor of the Fourth. I haven’t added them to the menu yet but they’re available. Do you want to try one of those or an apple pie?”
“What!” Randall nearly came off his stool before I could answer. “You said you ran out of those berry pie things earlier.”
“No, I said you ran out.” She pointed at his chest. “You know the rules. Five pies are all you get in a twenty-four-hour period.”
“I don’t know why I keep coming here and taking this crap.” Randall spun around on his stool. “I’m leaving. Don’t count on me coming back.”
His threat didn’t faze Poppy. “Don’t forget your coffee.” She turned and grabbed a to-go cup and filled it from the coffee pot on the back wall.
Randall grunted as he slipped on his cap and prepared his cane. Then he took the cup from Poppy’s hand and started shuffling toward the door.
“See you tomorrow,” Poppy called to his back.
Randall just shook his head and kept walking.
“Cheerful guy,” I teased.
Poppy laughed. “And you caught him on a good day. Yesterday he threatened to leave me a bad Yelp review because I wouldn’t make him six espressos. But he’ll be back tomorrow to keep me and Molly company.”
“Grouchy exterior, heart of gold?” I guessed.
“Exactly.” She smiled. “Hang tight, I’ll get your food. Do you want to sit up here or at a table?”
“Would you sit—”
“Poppy—” Molly came rushing out of the kitchen, interrupting my dinner invitation, but stopped when she spotted me. “Oh, hey, Cole. How are you?”
“Good.” I returned her smile. “Just getting dinner.”
“Perfect timing! Poppy was just going to take a dinner break too. You can keep each other company.”
I guess I didn’t need to ask Poppy to eat with me after all. Thanks, Molly.
“I never should have told you,” Poppy muttered.
Told her what?
“Are you going to eat with Cole?” Molly’s smile got wider as I looked between her and Poppy. “Yes or no, Poppy-bear?”
“Yes.”
“And tomorrow, are you going to take the morning off? Yes or no?”
Poppy’s teeth gritted. “Yes.”
“And are you going to let me hire another part-time worker so you don’t burn yourself out?”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Answer the question,” Molly pressed. “Yes or no? Are you going to let me hire another person?”
“Yes,” Poppy hissed.
What the hell? I was definitely missing something here, but before I could ask, Poppy threw her hands in the air and stormed back into the kitchen as Molly burst into laughter.
When she’d caught her breath, Molly wiped tears from the corners of her eyes and leaned a hip against the counter. “She has to say yes to everything today, and I’m taking advantage because it’s for her own good.”
“Ah.” I nodded. “Let me guess. Another birthday list item?”
Molly straightened. “She told you about the list?”
“Yeah. The last time I was here.” Shit. “Should I have kept that a secret?”
“No, but it is interesting.” Molly studied me for a long moment, then smiled. “I like you, Cole. Poppy does too, even if she won’t admit it. Just go easy, my friend. Go easy.”
“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”
She shrugged. “Takes too long.”
“Agreed.” I smiled, then slid off my stool and walked over to an empty table along the far wall.
The restaurant was busy tonight but not packed. Everyone seated had already gotten their meals so I sat and people-watched until Poppy came out of the kitchen with a tray of food and waters. She set down two steaming jelly jars filled with macaroni and cheese.
I inhaled the cheesy smell. “This smells great.”
“Thanks.” She handed me an unshaken jar of salad. “Shake that up and I’ll be right back.”
I did as I was told, shaking as she went behind the counter for plates and silverware. She came back and set the table, splitting the salad between us.
“I’ll share the salad but you better not take any of my pie. I’ve been promised dessert and I refuse to share.”
She giggled and did a mock salute. “Understood, Detective.”
We ate quietly, each of us diving into our salad and pasta. The gentle hum of other conversations filled the room until Poppy broke the silence. “Can I ask you something?”
I nodded as I swallowed my bite of macaroni. “Shoot.”
She waited a second before speaking softly. “Why did you stay that night? You sat with me for hours, even after my brother arrived.”
I blinked, surprised by the serious question, then set down my fork and leaned in closer. “I stayed because I didn’t want you to be alone. Your brother was on the phone and dealing with stuff. I just . . . I didn’t want you to be by yourself on that couch.”
She looked down at her plate, poking at her salad. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I was just doing my job.”
It was more than that, but my real motives were damn hard to explain. Delivering the news of James Maysen’s death had been fucking extreme, something I’d never done before. At the time, I’d chalked up my late-night vigil to the difficult situation. But now—now that I’d been around her again—I knew it wasn’t just the circumstances that had made me stay.
It was Poppy.
I hadn’t been able to leave her side until I’d known she was in good hands. So I’d sat by her side until she’d fallen asleep on the couch and her brother had taken my place.
“What made you ask?”
She shrugged and speared a bite of lettuce. “Just curious.”
She may as well have said, “End of discussion.” Not that I would have pressed anyway. I couldn’t imagine how hard it would be for her to think about that night, let alone talk about it. And with a restaurant full of people, tonight wasn’t the time for a recap.
If she ever wanted to talk about that night, I’d be all ears. If she never wanted to speak of it again, that was fine too.
“I hear you’re saying yes to everything today?” I chased a bite of macaroni with some water.
She nodded, smiling again as she chewed.
“A guy could take advantage of that.”
Her chewing stopped and her blue eyes snapped to mine.
“Me, for example. I could use this to get exactly what I want.”
I didn’t miss the way her eyes flared, and damn, it was sexy. If things were farther along—if this were a year from now and we were in a different place—I could have used this game to have her moaning yes all night long. But we weren’t there, and I wasn’t a complete asshole.
But I did love to tease.
“Poppy,” I whispered, leaning closer.
Her breaths were shallow as she waited.
“Will you bring me both the mixed berry and the apple pie?”
She blinked twice, then a hand flew over her mouth—still full of salad—covering it as she laughed. “Yes.”
I grinned, sitting back in my chair and digging into my food. “Maybe you can tell me more about this list too? It seems like every time I see you you’re on to something new.”
Her hand fell. “You really want to know?”
“I really want to know.”