by Sydney Logan
I’m really not sure where to start, so I go with the basics.
“Her name’s Jenna.”
Too basic, if the shocked expression on my mother’s face is any indication. Naturally, she’d recognize the name.
“Jenna York?”
I nod.
Mom sighs. “And here I was hoping this girl might actually convince you to leave this life behind. Of course you’d fall for another con artist. You do remember that Bonnie and Clyde got shot in the end, don’t you?”
“We aren’t Bonnie and Clyde, and I haven’t fallen for her.”
Mom eyes me skeptically before waving for me to continue.
“Anyway,” I mutter, already regretting this, “there’s a connection there. We understand each other on a level that nobody else can.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Do you want to hear this or not?”
Mom reaches over and pats my hand. “I’m sorry. Of course I do. Tell your story. I’ll keep my opinions to myself.”
“What story?” Dad asks, making his way into the kitchen. Mom springs from her seat to pour him a cup of coffee. “Good morning, Ethan.”
“Morning.”
Dad kisses Mom’s cheek, and she hands him an omelet.
“Thank you, sweetheart. So?” he asks as he takes his place at the table. “What story?”
“Ethan’s having trouble with a girl.”
His head swivels toward me. “Is that so? You know, son, I always thought a girl was exactly what you needed. A sweet, sensible girl who can convince you to settle down and start living a normal life.”
Mom laughs, and that’s when I officially give up.
“Enjoy your breakfast. I’m going to the den.”
“But you didn’t eat your—”
“I’ll eat later.”
I head downstairs and search through the media cabinet until I find the stack of video games I played as a teenager. The next hour is spent playing Grand Theft Auto, and it’s just the violent distraction I need to take my mind off everything. Conversations with my parents always make me nuts. While I’m used to discussions about my chosen profession, I’m not prepared to talk to them about my feelings for Jenna.
Whatever those feelings might be.
Even the game bores me after a while, so I toss my controller aside and reach for my cell. I quickly scan through my messages. There’s nothing from her—not that I really expected there to be. There is a text from Coop that looks interesting . . . something about a Greek billionaire eager to get his hands on some diamond. Technically, we’re on vacation, so I make a mental note to ask for details later.
I keep scrolling until I find the message I’m looking for, and I can’t help but grin at the picture of Jenna and the Mexican waitress. Their kiss was silly. Nothing more than a joke.
Our kiss wasn’t a joke. Not at all.
I decide to send her a message.
Are you bored out of your mind like I am?
I wait for a response, but I’m not surprised when I don’t receive one. Who knows how spotty her cell service is in the mountains. Despite that, I send her another message. And another. Thinking eventually she’ll respond.
She doesn’t.
I finally give up and head back upstairs. My parents are still in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, and looking way too domestic. Their heads pop up when I enter the room. I know I need to make an effort. I’m home so rarely, after all. But right now, what I need is a nap.
“I’m going to try to sleep. Then we’ll talk. Okay?”
They nod, and without another word, I head upstairs to my room.
Sleep doesn’t come easily. I toss and turn for a while, still unable to get Jenna and that stupid kiss out of my mind. I finally send her one last text, hoping if she’s just a little sentimental about the whole thing, maybe she’ll text me back.
I can still taste your lip gloss.
It’s only after I hit send that I realize I really can taste it, and I want to taste it again.
“You always did like to bait the hook,” Dad says with a grin as I hand him his reel.
With a graceful flourish, he casts his line into the river. I’m still not sure how he convinced me to go fishing in the rain, but I’d been desperate for some normalcy, and for Hank York, fishing is normal.
I need normal.
I crave normal.
I’m so afraid nothing will ever be normal again.
Unfortunately, fishing with my dad is a quiet kind of normal, and the silence of the mountains is sort of the last thing I need right now. What I really need is a distraction from the constant loop of last night’s kiss that continues to play repeatedly in my head. Our kiss had been a mistake—a horrible, toe-curling, R-rated mistake . . . that I wanted to relive over and over again.
“So what’s going on in Strawberry Flatts?” It’s a desperate plea for any kind of conversation that has nothing to do with my professional or personal life.
“Everything’s pretty much the same,” he says with a shrug. “Except there’s a new sheriff in town.”
This is Dad’s subtle way of reminding me that the local people—not to mention the Feds—are always on the lookout for one of our impromptu family reunions. Dad’s replacement as sheriff hadn’t been as willing to ignore my indiscretions, so our visits had become few and far between.
“Who’s the new sheriff?”
Dad smirks. “Shane Barnes.”
I laugh. Loudly. So loudly Dad’s smirk becomes a frown.
“You’re scaring the fish, Jenna.”
I grin sheepishly. “Sorry about that. But seriously? This county elected Shane Barnes as sheriff?
I’m pleasantly surprised by this news. Maybe my trips home can become more frequent now.
Dad chuckles and pulls his line out of the lake to check his bait. “It was a landslide. He’s a good man. I never did understand what happened between the two of you.”
Shane Barnes was a lot of my firsts. First school dance. First kiss. First time. We broke up my senior year of high school when he cheated on me with Beth Riley. I hadn’t been terribly heartbroken. I’d been desperate to get as far away from Strawberry Flatts as possible, while Shane was and would always be a country boy at heart. Dad, happy to have another guy around the house, took our break-up a little harder.
“It was complicated, Dad.”
I’d never told my dad the real reason we split, and there’s no reason to do so now. Shane apologized, and we’d parted as friends right before I moved away to college. I saw him at Mom’s funeral, but besides that, I haven’t spoken to him again.
“Love is always complicated, Jen. You just have to decide if it’s worth the trouble.” His voice drops lower, deeper. “Unless, of course, that decision is made for you, and you have no choice but to let the person go.”
Tears fill my eyes as I stare out at the water. If only I could have a love story like my mom and dad’s. I honestly can’t see my father ever remarrying, and while a selfish part of my heart doesn’t want him to, the unselfish side hates that he’s up in these mountains all alone.
After a few silent moments, Dad clears his throat.
“So, Jenna, speaking of love . . .”
And here it is. The traditional boyfriend speech.
“Nope.”
“No?” His voice is filled with suspicion. “You’re running around all over the world and nobody has caught your eye?”
“My life isn’t for everyone. You know that.”
Dad nods thoughtfully. “Having something in common is important. Maybe you can find someone with . . . similar interests. Abby did.”
“Abby did.”
After a careful inspection of his hook, he lobs his line back into the water.
“I worry about the two of you, Jenna. I see your names crawl across the ticker on my television, and I’m afraid the day’s coming when I’ll see you’ve been captured. Or worse.”
I swallow nervously. It’s so rare for my dad
to show emotion.
“We’re smart girls.”
“Like Thelma and Louise,” he says with a grin, but I can tell it’s forced. “You used to make me watch that movie all the time.”
I smile at the memory. “It’s a great movie.”
“It is. Teaches some powerful lessons, too.”
I’m intrigued. “Such as?”
“Remember what that FBI agent said? ‘Brains will only get you so far, and luck always runs out.’ By the end of the movie, those girls were jumping over the Grand Canyon. You can’t jump over the Grand Canyon, Jenna.”
The rain begins to fall a little harder, so Dad decides to call it a day. The trip back to the house is a quiet one. A guilt trip this vigorous is unusual, even by my father’s standards. He’s never been happy with the life I lead, but he’s rarely this vocal about it. I decide to wait until we’re home to tell him about Abby.
“If it means anything, you may not have to worry about Abby much longer,” I tell him, hoping this will satisfy him a little. “I think she and Coop are really serious. They’re both talking about getting out.”
I take off my jacket and hang it on the hook next to the door. Dad drops his fishing gear on the kitchen floor and turns toward me.
“What will that mean for you?”
“I don’t know. I’ll be on my own, I guess.”
“You wouldn’t get out, too?”
“Why would I get out?”
His face is an alarming shade of red. “Because you don’t have to live like this! You could use your degree and actually live a normal life. One where I don’t worry day and night about you getting arrested or shot!”
What the hell? Dad never, ever raises his voice.
“Are you nuts? You know how this works, Sheriff York. If I stop running, I will be arrested. I will go to prison. Will that help you sleep better at night?”
Dumfounded, he slowly collapses into a kitchen chair. “Is that why you keep running? Because you’re too afraid of the consequences?”
I take a deep breath and sit down next to him. “It’s not the only reason, but yes. It’s something I consider every time I even remotely think about putting down roots. I can’t have a normal life, Dad. It will never happen.”
The house phone rings, and I take another deep breath to try to calm down.
“This conversation isn’t over, Jenna.”
Dad heads to the living room. Frustrated and tired, I race up to my bedroom and slam the door behind me. Collapsing on the bed, I grab my cell phone off the nightstand. I hadn’t bothered taking it to the lake since cell service out there is nonexistent. I’m not surprised to find several texts—one of which is from Abby.
Got a potential job. Sounds interesting. Call me when you can.
I smirk. So much for vacation.
I continue scrolling, and a particular text message catches my eye. I don’t recognize the number, but I know it can only be from one person.
I can still taste your lip gloss.
Before I can even formulate a response in my head, my cell vibrates. I’m so stunned by the text message that I answer without even checking the number.
“Hello?”
“So you are alive. Good to know.”
“Summers?”
“I think we’re probably on a first name basis by now, don’t you?”
“You’re funny.”
“Why didn’t you reply to my texts?”
“Did you send more than one?”
“I sent . . . six.”
Six?
“I didn’t reply because I’m just now checking my phone. I was fishing with my dad.”
“You fish?”
I sigh and lay back against the pillow. “Badly, but yes. I am spending quality time with my father, which is what you should be doing instead of sending me sappy texts. What do you want, Ethan?”
“I wanted to see if you were okay. Why did you run away so fast yesterday?”
“I didn’t run.”
“Bullshit. You couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”
It was true. After the epic kiss, I’d pushed him away and jumped into my car. I hadn’t even looked back in the rearview mirror before speeding out of the parking lot.
“We need to talk about this, Jenna.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. It was a mistake, Ethan. A monumental mistake. One that will never happen again.”
He laughs. “Well that confirms my theory.”
“What theory?”
“One kiss isn’t enough for you, either.”
I wait for the snappy comeback to make its way to my lips, but it doesn’t come. He’s right, but I’d die before admitting it. I notice he says either, which means he’d been just as affected by our kiss. This information makes me entirely too happy.
“And you’re speechless. That has to be a first.”
“Jerk.”
“But I’m a jerk who’s a great kisser.”
“I’ve had better.”
There’s that snappy comeback.
“Liar.”
How does he know?
Dad yells my name from downstairs. “Look, Ethan, I have to go. I’m cooking dinner for my dad and then I’m hitting the road.”
“Already?”
“One day was long enough.”
“I know that feeling. Listen, call me when you leave. Maybe we can—”
“No, Ethan.”
“Why not? It’s obvious neither of us can stand to stay with our parents for more than twenty-four hours. And I guarantee Abby and Coop aren’t ready to go back to work. You and I could go somewhere.”
I try to fight it. I really do. But my curiosity gets the best of me.
“Where would we go?”
“Where would you like to go?”
I laugh. “I don’t know. Surprise me.”
“Done.”
Crap.
“Ethan, I was joking.”
“I’m not,” he says softly. “Be serious for one minute and admit that you want to do this.”
It’s impossible to ignore the hidden meaning behind his words. He’s not just asking me to take a road trip. He’s asking me to explore this. Us. Whatever we are.
“It’s so dangerous.”
“I like danger. I like you.”
Deep in my heart, I know this is a mistake, but my heart doesn’t send that message to my mouth.
“Okay,” I hear myself say.
“I wish you’d at least wait until morning,” Dad says with a sigh.
He gives the tires a kick, checking for whatever it is you check for when you kick tires. It makes me smile and only adds to my guilt for leaving him so soon.
Ethan had texted directions to a landing strip about fifty miles away, and I’m supposed to be there by dawn. I have no idea where we’re going, and honestly, I don’t care. It’s only been a day, but I’m already suffocating in Strawberry Flatts. Time to move on.
“Dad, you know it’s not safe in the morning.”
“I know, I know. Someone might see you in the daylight.”
Saying goodbye to my father is never easy, but it seems harder this time. Dinner had been calm but strained, especially once I told him I’d be leaving tonight. True to his word, Dad picked right back up with our conversation, practically begging me to turn myself in. There was a desperate quality to his pleas this time, and it unnerved me.
Dad sighs. He knows when he’s been defeated. Awkwardly, he pulls me into his arms. We’ve never been ones to show emotion, so our hug is weird and clumsy. But I hug him back, because he’s my dad, and we don’t see each other enough.
My fault.
“Stay away from the Grand Canyon,” he whispers against my ear.
“I will.”
I can breathe a little easier once I’m on the road. Naturally, the highway is vacant as I race out of town. I nearly make it to the county line when headlights suddenly appear in my rearview mirror. A quick glance at my speedometer confirms I’m doin
g eighty-five, which means I either have a stalker or there’s a cop on my ass.
I get my answer when blue lights flash in my rear view.
My choices are limited. I can either gun it and hope for the best, or I can pull over, plaster on a smile, and pray he doesn’t ask for my license or registration or any type of identifying information whatsoever.
Deciding to take my chances, I pull to the side of the road and turn off the ignition.
What’s wrong with me? I know better than to speed through this little town. Is this really how my career’s going to end? I can see just picture tomorrow’s headlines: World-Famous Con Artist Busted for Speeding – Receives Life in Prison.
The patrolman takes his sweet time as he strolls toward my driver’s side. I take a deep breath and roll down the window.
“License and registration, please.”
Relief courses through me. Even though the glare of his flashlight blinds me, and I can’t see his face, I would recognize that voice anywhere.
“Damn it, Shane, get your flashlight out of my face.”
“Well, well, well.” He turns his flashlight around, and there he is, all white teeth and broad shoulders. He’s more muscular than I remember. “Jenna York. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. To what do we owe the honor?”
I roll my eyes. “Cut it out, Shane.”
“This could make my career. Rookie sheriff nabs the world-class thief. Hell, I could run for governor.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Why would you want to be governor?”
“You’re right. I’ll be a hero. Might as well run for president.”
He sounds entirely too amused to be taken seriously, so I decide to play along.
“And then you’ll pardon me so that I don’t rot in prison for the rest of my life?”
“Of course.” Shane chuckles, and I breathe a sigh of relief as he leans against the window. “It’s good to see you, Jenna.”
“You, too. Look, I’m on a tight schedule. Just write me a ticket. I’ll be happy to pay—”
He laughs. “I’m not gonna write you a ticket. But what are you doing running ninety through a school zone anyway?”
