by Lynn Lorenz
“Impounded? A desperate criminal, eh? It’s good to know you’re keeping the town safe. What did he do? Rob the savings and loan?” Bill, always quick to needle Jack, chuckled as he sat in one of the black leather wingback chairs in front of his desk. Jack sat in the other. Winston curled up at Jack’s feet.
“He bit me.”
Bill’s dark eyebrows shot up and he fixed Jack with warm brown eyes. “Bit you? So you’re keeping him close, in case he tries to escape?” He chuckled.
“Actually, I stopped his owner on a speeding charge and the dog attacked me.”
“He attacked you. You’re kidding, right?”
Why does everyone say that? “No. He bit my ankle.” Jack frowned at the dog. “Anyway, he can’t be caged and his owner is a flight risk. He’s just visiting in town. I wanted to make sure the dog had his shots before I let him go. Just in case. You know…rabies.”
Both men looked at the dog and rubbed their stomachs.
“Until then, he’s with me.”
“I understand, but can’t you lock him in a cell or something?”
“No. The owner has made it clear that if anything happens to his dog, he’s going to sue the city.”
“Is he serious?” Bill leaned forward, all laughter gone from his eyes.
“Dead. He’s very attached to the dog. And from what I can tell, he has the money and lawyers to back it. He’s Olivia Rawlings’ grandson.” That was putting it mildly. The man’s affection for the dog bordered on the fanatic. If that red bandana the dog wore was any indication, Edward probably had little outfits for Winston to wear. Christ, the man was so gay it was embarrassing.
“Olivia?” Bill blew a soft whistle. “She’s got big money.”
“So does her grandson, it seems. He’s one of the Atlanta Beauregards,” Jack added in an imitation of Edward’s soft accent.
Bill nodded as if it meant something to him. “I knew the rest of the family had moved away. Tons of money. Oil and gas leases.”
Jack hadn’t known that. So, Edward had money. Much more than Jack would ever have, no doubt. Why did that bother him? Hell, it rankled him when someone didn’t have to work hard for what they had, when it just got handed to them on a silver platter. Jack had worked damned hard for every scrap he’d ever had from the time he was sixteen.
“Well, I guess, if you put it that way, you’re doing this city a service. Do whatever you have to do to keep this guy from suing us. We can’t afford it.”
“Sure.” Jack wondered what ‘whatever’ might entail. Or how far he’d have to go.
“He doesn’t look dangerous. In fact, he looks expensive. Dogs like that can cost thousands of dollars. Come here, boy.” Bill leaned down and called to the dog.
Too slow, Jack tried to reel the dog in on his leash, but the little bulldog was quicker. Winston’s head popped up off his paws and he trotted over to the mayor, his hindquarters wagging in greeting. Winston sat at the mayor’s feet without a single growl. All tongue and no teeth.
“I can’t believe he bit you. What did you do to him?” Bill cocked an eyebrow.
Jack watched as the bulldog rolled over on his back and let Bill scratch his chest.
“Nothing. He just walked up and bit me.”
Great. Even the mayor is charmed by the damn dog. Wait until Bill meets Edward. What would he say then? To give Bill credit, he hadn’t blinked an eye when Jack had told him about hiring Brian Russell, an openly gay man, as an officer on the town’s small force. And in the twenty-or-so years they’d been friends, Bill had never made any remarks about homosexuals. Not that they’d had many conversations about gays, but Bill wasn’t the kind of man who held bigoted beliefs. At least Jack didn’t think he did.
“Not this good boy.” Bill gave the dog a final pat then straightened.
Jack sighed. “Hard to believe.” Winston came back to Jack’s chair and lay down.
At last, they stopped talking about the damned dog and got down to the reason for the meeting—this year’s budget for the police department.
Jack pulled out his papers, gave Bill a copy, and they got down to their discussion.
Chapter Seven
“Well, first thing Monday, you’ll just have to get the vet to fax Winston’s certificate of health to the police.” Olivia patted Edward’s knee.
“Of course. Nothing is going to keep me from getting him back, Meemaw. I just don’t know what I’m going to do with him once I do get him back.” He gave her a halfhearted smile.
“I feel so bad about that. Really. And if there were any way I could let him stay here in the house, I would.”
“I know. I suppose I’ll just get a room at that motel up on the interstate. I can make the drive to and from Spring Lake to visit you each day. It’s less than half an hour.”
“Hell, I used to drive all the way to San Antonio just for lunch. These days, my doctor has forbidden me to drive at all.” She shrugged but didn’t explain any further. Edward figured if she didn’t share, he shouldn’t ask, but it was a perfect opening and he took it.
“How are you feeling, Meemaw?” She looked trim and fit in her blue jeans, white cotton shirt and loafers, but there was a slight cast of shadow under her eyes.
“Well, for an old broad, I’m doing damn fine.” Her eyes sparkled when she laughed. “But like anyone my age, I could complain. But I don’t. Can’t stand to listen to those old biddies around here talking about their aches and pains.” She shook her head then winked at him. “I’d rather hear about who’s fooling around with who.”
Edward gasped. “Not here in Hooterville? With all these God-fearing decent folks?” He couldn’t resist taking a dig at the locals.
“Why not? Small towns are just as bad as big towns. Worse. Why, there are skeletons buried all over this county, child. Got a few out back myself.” She winked.
“Do tell?” Edward leaned closer. “One of those bad boys of yours? A nosy neighbor, maybe?”
She laughed. “Maybe.”
“I can believe it too.”
“Edward.” She grew serious. “What do you think about the chief of police? Jack Whittaker seems to have made an impression on you.” She cocked an eyebrow as she pinned him with a brown gaze so similar to his own.
“Jack?” Hell and damnation, he couldn’t help but smile when he said the man’s name.
“You know him well enough to call him by his first name?”
“Well, I let him keep my dog, didn’t I? I wouldn’t let just anyone do that.” Edward could do coy as well as any ingenue.
“He’s a good-looking man.” A mischievous light flickered in his grandmother’s eyes as she fished for information.
“He is.” No point in denying that—everyone could see Jack Whittaker was handsome.
“He’s been alone for a long time.”
“Has he?” Edward feigned disinterest. “I wonder why.”
Her brow furrowed. “I know he didn’t grow up here. I’m not sure where he’s from.” Her gaze got fuzzy as her words faded.
Edward kept quiet and let her think. He desperately wanted to know what she knew about him, but pushing her would let her know just how interested he was in Jack.
“There was an engagement.”
“Oh?” Edward slouched.
“But it fell through.”
“Oh.” He sat up. That could mean anything.
“It was called off right before the wedding. She wasn’t local. Some girl he’d met in college, I think.” She shrugged. “All I know was Jack was in his early twenties, out of college and newly hired with the police. Handsome as the devil, even then. Everyone says it broke his heart so bad he’s never let anyone close again.”
Edward could just see Jack, as tan as he was now, but younger, less serious. Maybe he’d even smiled more back then. Before he could blink, Edward had fashioned a story. Jack, unaware of his inclinations, gets all the way to the altar before facing the truth and calling off the wedding.
Bride seen fle
eing the church. Parents in an uproar. Guests stunned.
It could have happened that way.
Twenty years ago, some gay men would have gotten married and stayed in the closet.
Maybe Jack was still in the closet.
Maybe Jack longed to come out.
Maybe Jack just needed a little push.
* * * *
What Jack really needed was to go home, take a hot shower and get his foot up. The throbbing had returned as his pain meds ran out. Maybe a cold beer would help his head, because it was still pounding.
The meeting with the mayor had gone well and Winston hadn’t bitten anyone, especially Jack.
He straightened the papers on his desk and shut off his computer, then stood and scooped up his hat.
“Winston, we’re going home early today. I’m beat.” Jack leaned down, clipped the leash to the dog’s collar and they headed for the door.
“Kristen, I’m going home. If anyone needs me, call my cell. But only if it’s an emergency, okay?”
“Sure, Chief. You look tired. Get some rest.” Kristen smiled at him then went back to work.
Jack led Winston out of the building and to his cruiser. This time, he didn’t bother to argue about where the dog sat. Winston hopped into the front seat and Jack went around to the driver’s side and got in. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, pressing into his temples with his thumb. It offered a little relief from the pain, but only as long as he kept up the pressure.
He put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. His house was only about fifteen minutes away, where the main road veered south, past the edge of town. He liked it there. Minimal noise, few neighbors and light traffic.
Pulling into his drive, he felt the quiet pride that coming home always gave him. The house was solid, well-built and had plenty of room. He’d saved for years on a small-town cop’s salary to get the down payment to buy it. And since then he’d spent most of his free time and money fixing it up. It was a hell of a long way from the piece-of-shit trailer he’d grown up in outside of San Antonio.
Here he could be himself, away from the pressure of the job and everyone’s expectations of him. It might be lonely off and on, but he’d gotten used to it over the years. Alone was good. Alone was comfortable. Alone didn’t hurt anymore.
“We’re home, Winston,” he announced. Winston whined and scratched at the door. Jack got out and let the dog out of the car, then bent down and unclipped the leash.
“Go ahead, boy. Check it out.”
He leaned against the car as Winston, nose to the ground, trotted around the half-acre front yard. Jack took time to observe the animal. Low to the ground, the dog was solid, not fat, with a broad, deep chest, sleek, short white fur and a massive head. Those dark brown eyes held an intelligence Jack hadn’t noticed in most dogs he’d seen.
Winston was so ugly he was cute.
“Come here, boy.”
Winston didn’t respond. That wouldn’t do. It bugged Jack when someone didn’t listen to him or obey him. It was a sign of disrespect. But he could fix that.
“You need some training.” Jack went inside, opened the fridge and pulled out some cold cuts. He took a few slices, tore them up, put them in a small baggie, then went back outside just as Winston watered Jack’s azalea bushes.
Jack pulled out a small piece of meat. “Come, Winston.” He held the food in his hand so that the dog could see it.
Winston trotted over to him and Jack gave him the treat.
“Good boy.”
He let the dog wander off several times and repeated the command and awarded with the treat when Winston obeyed. By the fourth time, he could call Winston and the animal would come to him without seeing the meat.
Satisfied with his progress, Jack gave the dog the last of the treats, rubbed him behind the ears and praised him. Together, they went inside.
Jack put a bowl of water on the floor and Winston went right to it. His long tongue lapped the liquid and drops flew, splattering Jack’s pristine white cabinets. Then, as Winston walked the bowl across the slate tiles, water splashed all over the kitchen floor. Jack got out a dish towel, wiped up the mess and put it underneath the bowl to absorb the water spillage and keep it in place.
That done, Jack headed to his room to undress and take a hot shower. He stripped down, tossed his uniform into the hamper for his dry cleaning, his T-shirt and briefs into the hamper for washing, then leaned into the double shower stall and turned on the water. When the steam rose behind the glass blocks, he stepped under the overhead spray and just let the water beat on his back and shoulders as he leaned against the tile wall. His tension eased but his headache stayed with him, making it impossible for him to relax.
Maybe he should go into Houston and see a doctor. The last thing he wanted to do was admit he was sick. Which kind of doctor would he see? What kinds of tests would they run? Hell, maybe he’d just go to one of those acupuncturists. He’d read they could knock out pain with a few well-placed needles.
Maybe he just needed to get laid.
He looked down at his cock. It had been unresponsive ever since the headaches started. In his condition, trying to have sex would be a waste of time. And the very last thing Jack ever wanted was to be embarrassed. Not getting it up in front of someone, even a stranger, would be mortifying.
Jack sighed and squeezed shampoo into his hands, worked it through his hair then rinsed it out. After shutting off the water, he opened the glass door and stepped onto the rug to catch the water that dripped off his body. Then he wrapped a towel around his waist, avoiding looking in the mirror, and went into his bedroom.
Winston sat on the floor next to the bed, waiting for him.
“Hey, buddy.”
Woof.
Jack tossed off the towel, took some sweats and a T-shirt from a dresser drawer, and put them on. “Let’s get some dinner.”
They trod back down the hall to the kitchen and Jack took up his station at the fridge. Not much to choose from since it was the end of the week.
He pulled out a small pan of frozen lasagna. “This looks good. Of course, I’m sure it’s not what you’re used to with Edward P. Beauregard the Third, but around here, it’s simple eats.” He put the pan in the microwave oven, punched in the time and hit Start.
Woof.
Jack got a beer from the fridge, sat at the wooden kitchen table, propped his foot up on a chair and waited for the microwave to ding. He held the bottle to his forehead, leaning into it, letting the cold freeze his pain away.
If he couldn’t shake this headache, it was going to be another long night.
* * * *
“Edward. Get your bags and I’ll show you to your room.” Olivia stood.
“Sure.” Edward stood, then slapped his head with the heel of his hand. “Hell and damnation. I forgot my bags.”
“Where are they?”
“I left them in Jack’s cruiser.” He sat back down.
“Call him and ask him to drop them off.”
“Meemaw, I can’t do that. I’ve asked so much of him already.” Edward bit his bottom lip. “I’ll just go and get them from him at the station.” He’d get to see Winston again—that would be good. He should stop at the market and pick up the dog food too.
“Okay.” She picked up the glasses and plate of cookies and headed into the kitchen. “You’ve got your key. Just let yourself in when you get back.”
“Are you sure?” Edward went to the door. “Will you still be up?”
“I go to bed early and wake up early these days.” She came out of the kitchen and walked up to him as he stood at the door. “If I don’t see you, have a good night and I’ll see you in the morning.” She leaned up, he offered his cheek and she kissed it.
He kissed her cheek in return. “Good night, Meemaw. I’m so glad I came.”
“Me too, child.” She patted his cheek then headed down the hall. “Your room is the one right here.” She stopped by the first door. “
The next is the guest bath.”
“Thanks.” He nodded, then slipped out of the front door, pulling it shut behind him then locking it.
Edward got in the Miata, backed out of the drive and headed into town.
At the police station, he parked and went inside.
Kristen looked up from her work. “You again?”
He propped his hip on the edge of her desk. “Yes. Did you miss me?”
She laughed, pushed him off and shook her head. “No.”
“Is Jack here?”
“No, he’s gone for the day. Can I help you with anything?”
“Well, I left my bags in the trunk of his police car.”
“In the cruiser?” She frowned. “He takes that car home. Sorry. If it were here, I’d get your bags for you.”
“Great.” Edward sighed. “Where does he live? I’ll just go and get them.”
Kristen stared at him as if making up her mind to give him this valuable piece of information. She must have decided in Edward’s favor, because she tore off a sheet from a notepad and scribbled on it, then handed it to him. “You take the left when the road splits. He’s about five miles down the road. The house sits all by itself—you can’t miss it.”
“Thanks.” Edward smiled and left Kristen to her work.
* * * *
Jack scooped half the lasagna onto his plate, put the other half on a plate for Winston and placed it on the floor. The dog wasted no time in digging in. Jack sat at the table, picked up his fork and attacked his food with much less enthusiasm than the dog. Since this headache had started, his appetite had fallen off and most of the time he didn’t feel like eating.
The silence was broken only by the scrape of Jack’s fork and Winston’s chomping and snorting. Christ, the dog was the noisiest eater he’d ever heard. And sloppy. Buried in the lasagna, Winston’s face was covered in red sauce and the plate danced across the floor as the dog licked it clean.
“Good, huh? Glad you liked it.” Jack smiled at the dog. Winston lay down, noisily licking his muzzle and cleaning his paws. “You’re like a cat, you know? Only sloppier and louder. Cleaning yourself up all the time.” He chuckled.
