by L. A. Fiore
“All right, Sugar.”
“It was nice meeting you,” Arissa said, pulling her car door open.
“You too,” Millie replied.
Hyacinth wasn’t as gracious when she said, “That still remains to be seen.”
* * *
Hank moved to the side of his truck for privacy. Pulling his cell from his back pocket he looked to the mess of charred wood in a massive heap. He took his eyes from the burned down barn to his cell, tapped the screen a few times and typed out.
Fuck, sorry I haven’t contacted you in a few days, but fucking work got in the way. I’ll make it up to you, promise.
He hit send and leaned back against his truck. Arissa Haywood had gotten under his skin and of all the times to be taken away from Summerville to the next town over, it had to now. Huntsville was a spitting image of Summerville, minus the crazy townsfolk. So, when someone went on a spree of burning down barns, Hank was called in for his advice and support. Hank being Hank, jumped in his truck and took off.
Arissa’s heart jumped when her phone buzzed a text. Seeing it was from Hank, she felt the familiar warmth that stirred whenever she thought of him, but it didn’t last for long. She had thought things were going really great with him, but then he took off for a few days. She might not have thought much of that but after her run-in with Catherine, and her declaring Phoebe to be the love of his life, and then Hank goes missing right after that man showed up at his place, also about Phoebe, maybe she had misread the situation. How different her response was now than it would have been only a few days earlier.
Nothing to make up, Sheriff. Duty calls.
Hank grinned as he opened the message but that smile quickly faded as he stared at the text. Nothing to make up? What the fuck? He thought they were hitting it off. Fuck, he knew they were, felt it and knew she felt it too. Great conversations, easy banter, not to mention knowing glances and deep looks. Jesus. Maybe he should have moved faster with her. Showed her what she really meant to him. Was she not interested? Hank had a hard time swallowing that thought. He didn’t have time to occupy his thoughts with breaking down what the hell went wrong, he had to help out Huntsville find their arsonist. His eyes on the burned down barn in the distance, his thoughts everywhere but in the present, the vibration in his hand had him almost dropping his cell.
“Yo,” Hank said as a greeting.
Mike knew Hank wasn’t in the mood for any delay so he greeted him with, “Sal and Elmer said they saw the pick-up on the same day you had the altercation with Bruno Knobbs.”
“Bruno Knobbs,” Hank repeated on a breath. The name didn’t sound familiar. “Continue.”
“Lives in Charleston, works odd jobs, doesn’t hold down any credentials anywhere. Address has him living with his parents but something tells me that’s not correct.”
Hank didn’t want to divulge too much information so he asked with no emotion in his voice. “Any wife, girlfriend?”
“Nothing as of yet but I’ll keep digging, Boss.” Silence followed before Mike broke it. “Anything you wanna tell me?”
Hank took a deep breath. He knew he needed to give Mike the information to go on, knew it was stupid to keep it from him because it was only a matter of time before he found out. “This guy said he was Phoebe’s ex.”
Mike gave a hum before he said, “Gotcha.” Hank heard the distinct clicking of a keyboard before Mike spoke again, “I’ll give you a call if I find anything else.”
Hank thanked him and ended the call but kept the screen lit up as he brought up the string of text messages between him and Arissa. He stared blankly at the phone, his mind clouded with all that had gone down in the past few days.
“Hank, you ready?” Sheriff Muller of Huntsville PD asked, pulling Hank from his thoughts. Hank looked down to the opened screen and read the message for the fifth time, he then shut it down and went to work. “I’m ready,” he told his buddy with a forced smile on his face.
* * *
Arissa hadn’t watched a night of sappy movies, instead she found herself pondering Catherine Weathers and what she had hoped to accomplish with their chat at the garden center. Hank hadn’t returned her text; not that she expected him to. She’d all but blown him off, but had she not talked to Catherine she wouldn’t have been dismissive. Was that the woman’s end game? To keep her away from Hank. She had warned Arissa off Hank. There was no other way to interpret their conversation. Why would the woman do that? Considering her son, how she raised him, Arissa could only assume her intentions were kind. Keeping Arissa from a broken heart, that was certainly thoughtful. What bothered her, though, was she really believed Hank was as into her as she was him, so his mother warning her off was going to hurt the very person she seemed to be trying to protect. It didn’t make any damn sense.
And she wanted Hank. All those feelings you get when you’re just starting to get to know someone—the butterflies, the spark, the anticipation, the heat and the want—it was heady and she was enjoying the ride with Hank, wanted to continue that ride, didn’t want to just have a friendship with him, like the one he seemed to have with everyone else in town. She would if that’s all she could have of him, and she might even be able to manage just being his friend, as long as she didn’t think about his taste, his kiss, the way he looked at her like he was really seeing her. A smile touched her lips because he looked at her like she looked at him, but according to Catherine, Phoebe was the love of his life, so where the hell was she?
When she was with Hank, she didn’t question what was building between them. But Catherine had gone out of her way to plant the seed of doubt in Arissa. Why?
There was a way for Arissa to get an answer to that, women as interested in talking about Hank as she was. Was it wrong to pry them for information? Not anymore wrong than them digging for dirt. Arissa moved to her front door, hesitated for only a second before she pulled it open. Jogging across the street, her neighbor had to have been looking because the door opened before she could knock.
“I’m in.”
Maureen’s smile was blinding. “Seven at Moe’s.”
“I’ll see you there,” Arissa said, and started back to her house but looked over her shoulder and added, “Thanks for the invite.”
Maureen laughed. “Hold the thank you until after the grilling.”
Arissa waved, holding the smile until she turned back to her house. She wasn’t the only one who’d be getting grilled.
A few hours later, Arissa glanced at the clock, then checked herself in the mirror before she grabbed her purse, and locked up her house. Climbing into her car, and starting it up, she was greeted to the soulful sound of Janis Joplin singing about “Bobby McGee”. Cranking it up, she pulled down her driveway and started up the street, tapping to the song on her steering wheel. It was summer. People were out in mass. Clusters of kids doing nothing more than walking and hanging out, others were gathered at the diamond to play ball, the shouts of the cheering crowd carrying on the summer breeze.
Arissa found a spot down the street from Moe’s. Reaching the bar, she pulled open the door. The place looked far bigger on the inside than it did from the outside. Stone walls, a long walnut bar ran the length of the space. Shelves of liquor behind it, at least twenty taps along the counter. The stools lining the bar were filled. Tables clustered around the open space, most of them filled. The rafter ceiling had ceiling fans to stir the air, and bronze rustic chandeliers. Matching sconces lined the walls for additional lighting. The old wood floor was slightly sticky. In the back was a section that was separate from the main bar. Arissa was guessing that was where the infamous dart games were played. Her heart squeezed a bit at the thought.
“Hey there,” a man called.
Arissa’s focus shifted to the man behind the bar. Her guess, this was Moe, the same man who had informed her of Billie’s reluctance to leave his game that first day. The man l
ooked to be in his seventies, with a shock of white hair. He wore jeans and a Jack Daniels’ tee. He was washing a glass, talking to a guy that was using his arms while telling a story, but Moe’s focus stayed on Arissa. He watched as she moved through the place to a spot at the bar.
“You the lady who called looking for Billie?” Moe asked as soon as her ass hit the stool.
“Yes, Arissa.”
He grinned and held out a hand. “Moe. Nice to meet you.”
“And you.”
“Did you get your plumbing problem solved?” he asked, but she knew he already knew the answer.
“I did.”
“Good. What can I get you?”
“Cabernet.”
“You got it.” But Moe’s attention shifted to the door before he called, “There they are.”
Arissa followed his stare to see the Belles had arrived. She watched, entertained at how people were drawn to them. Greetings were shouted as they moved through the bar. Maureen was dressed in a form fitting black dress and spiked heels, Millie in a pale pink sundress and Hyacinth in a Maxi dress with so many colors swirled through it that Arissa was sure if she started rocking back and forth she’d be able to hypnotize Moe’s patrons.
Maureen reached her first, her eyes moving to Moe. “I’ll have my usual,” she said then turned her blue eyes on Arissa. “We need a table,” she added. “Privacy.”
Before she could move, Millie grabbed her glass of wine, calling for a vodka rocks as she moved farther into the place and the table that sat in a corner. Maureen reached for the two glasses of clear alcohol, one with ice, that Moe had set down before gesturing for Arissa to follow Millie. Hyacinth held up the rear, holding a bottle of Jack and a glass.
They had no sooner taken their seats when Hyacinth poured herself a generous three fingers, drank it back in one shot, then leveled her gray eyes on Arissa. “So spill about the sheriff.”
Arissa didn’t like going behind Hank’s back but she wanted answers. She took a minute to drink some of her wine before she confessed, “There’s not much to tell.” That wasn’t true, but how the hell did she bring it up when the subject was Hank’s mom.
The sound of the Jack bottle hitting the table had those close glancing over. “I don’t believe that. From what I hear, he had you out to his place.”
That caught Arissa by surprise. She asked without thinking, “He doesn’t do that often?”
Millie chimed in. “Often, he’s not had a woman out there since Phoebe.”
And there was her opening. She took another drink of wine before she asked, “Who is Phoebe?”
It was Maureen who answered. “That would depend on who you asked, but for a time she was Hank’s girlfriend,” Maureen spat.
“You don’t like her?” Arissa asked, though it was clear Maureen wasn’t a fan.
Maureen wasn’t shy about filling in the blanks. “Phoebe was as beautiful as him, they looked so good together. They were pretty intense and then one day she just ups and leaves. Didn’t want the small town life. Wanted the lights of the city.” Maureen paused, her voice held a touch of empathy when she added, “Walked away from a man like that. Not just sexy and sweet but…” She waved her hand in the air. “I think she’s certifiable.”
Arissa hadn’t asked for another glass of wine, but one appeared.
“So what’s going on with you and the sheriff?” Hyacinth asked again.
“He made me burgers, gave me a tour of his house,” Arissa said. She hadn’t realized her voice had gone soft or her expression, her finger running circles on the rim of her glass as she reminisced. She didn’t tell them about the secret clearing, or that he orchestrated the lawn boys leaving so he could have alone time with her.
“Holy shit, from the look of you they must have been some damn good burgers,” Maureen declared on a shout that turned more heads. She leaned in toward the table and added, “I’d like to play with his meat.” She was greeted by hums of approvals.
Arissa was thinking about his taste, how she missed it, wanted it now when she answered absently, “Delicious.” Her fingers touched her lower lip, as she remembered the feel of his lips on hers.
It was the silence that pulled her back to the present to see the looks of envy on the women watching her. “So why aren’t you having burgers with him tonight?” Millie asked.
Because his mother’s making me doubt what’s happening between us. To the Belles she said, “He’s busy with town business.”
“Hmmm,” Hyacinth hummed with suspicion.
“I’m surprised Catherine hasn’t scared you away yet,” Maureen mumbled into her glass.
Arissa’s head jerked around so fast she got lightheaded, but this was what she wanted to know. “What do you mean by that?”
Maureen signaled for another drink before she turned her focus on Arissa. “She wasn’t a big fan of Phoebe’s either.”
Wasn’t a fan? Not according to Catherine. Arissa’s expression was not lost on anyone when Hyacinth said, “You talked to Catherine.” She wasn’t asking.
Arissa took another long sip of her wine because she felt like a tennis ball being bounced back and forth across the net. From the way Catherie talked about Phoebe, she was prepared to have the woman sainted. To hear she wasn’t a fan of Phoebe’s. What the hell.
“What did Catherine say to you?” Maureen asked.
“That she was the love of Hank’s life.”
Silence followed her announcement before Maureen broke it. “They were intense. He loved her,” Maureen said, looking around the table for agreement. “But the love of his life. I don’t think I’d go that far.”
“No ma’am,” Millie agreed.
“Looks like over protective Catherine strikes again,” Hyacinth said into her glass.
Overprotective was one thing, but telling Arissa that Hank’s old flame was the love of his life…that was something different. If these women suspected something brewing between Hank and her, the rumor mill was surely buzzing about it too, so Catherine would have known the impact her words were going to have on Arissa. Why would she do that? After two glasses of wine, it was hard for Arissa to really put effort into answering that question. What Arissa didn’t have any problem focusing on, the thought that brought a lopsided grin to her face, was the idea that what had started between Hank and her had been exactly what it had seemed. Mutual.
“What the hell is that look for?” Hyacinth demanded.
Arissa almost jumped up from her spot. The station house was right across the street. Was he there? They needed to talk, but not with two glasses of wine moving through her blood stream, so instead of acting on instinct, she reached for her glass.
6
Arissa’s head was pounding and her cell was ringing. Reaching for it, she wasn’t sure if she was going to answer it or toss it across the room. She didn’t know how much she had drunk last night. She only remembered ordering two glasses of wine, but she’d been drinking all night…wine just magically appearing in her glass. At least after the fifth glass, it sure seemed that way.
Grabbing her phone, she didn’t even bother looking at the screen before she answered and growled, “There better be a dead body.”
“There might be if you don’t get your ass to Charleston.”
Dmitri Russo. The best photographer in the country, arguably the world but Arissa was biased because she had known him before he was The Dmitri Russo. Even with the headache, she smiled. “What’s happened?”
“Danielle is having a coronary. The yellow for the estate spread is marigold not buttercup. Instead of dahlias, peonies were delivered and they’re peach not pale pink. I could go on, but you get the gist.”
Danielle McHugh was a layout artist. Similar to those artists who arranged hamburgers for fast food commercials. The images on the screen staged…the dew dripping off the tomato courtesy o
f a spray bottle, the red of the tomato painted to look brighter, the lettuce perfectly peeking out from the sesame seed bun that had additional seeds glued on it. Danielle staged scenes for the magazine, creating picture perfect images. The thought had Arissa thinking about Hank’s house. Danielle wouldn’t be needed for that spread. And it was thinking about Hank, that she remembered her conversation with the Belles. Her mind was fuzzy from the alcohol and still excitement coursed through her. She had been misled about the importance of Phoebe to Hank, and by his own mother. Why? She needed to talk to Hank because she’d shown hesitancy to him because of Catherine, but she wasn’t at all hesitant about them. She was all in.
“How desperate is the situation?” Arissa asked, as she threw her legs over the side of the bed. She could stop by the station on the way to Charleston.
“Defcon One,” Dmitri replied.
“Damn it,” Arissa mumbled as she rooted around her drawer, throwing panties and bras on the bed. “I’ll be on the road in an hour.” She moved to her closet and randomly yanked out clothes. “Distract her. Take her to Pierre’s. I’ll pick up the bill.”
“Really?” Interest in Dmitri’s tone. Pierre’s was one of Charleston’s fastest rising restaurants, given a solid boost from a spread done in Southern Charm. “The things I’m asked to do,” Dmitri teased. “Get here, but don’t be reckless. I can keep her calm for a few hours. Several stiff martinis will help too.”
“You’re the best, Dmitri. I’ll see you soon.”
Arissa hurriedly showered and dressed. Packing a bag for a few days since it was anyone’s guess how long it would take to get everything settled. Locking up, she hurried down the front path to her car, dropping her bag in the backseat before sliding behind the wheel. She reached the station in record time. Had the man she was coming to see witnessed her driving, he’d be writing her a ticket. Pulling up to the curb, she parked but didn’t jump out. All the rush to get out of the house, she hadn’t given herself time to think about what to say. Her heart was pounding but it had less to do with the problems awaiting her in Charleston and more to do with Hank. She didn’t really want to bring up his mom, even though the more she thought about the conversation she’d had with Catherine Weathers, the more annoyed she grew. What she wanted was for him to know she had no reservations about continuing what they’d started…talks on his porch, dart games in his barn, nights in his bed, mornings in his kitchen. She just met him, it was crazy that she felt so much so soon, but she knew what she was feeling was real. Smiling to herself, she decided that was the best way to put it. She climbed from the car, smoothed down her black pencil skirt. Her white blouse was sheer but already the heat from the summer sun was causing the thin material to stick to her skin. Walking through the station doors, the blast of air caused goosebumps to rise on her skin.
