by Vivian Lux
Gabe folded his arms over his chest. "Look McCabe, there's not much we can do with muddy footprints. How can you be sure those aren't just from a neighbor? Maybe you're overreacting."
"Yeah, we probably are," Brynn interjected, but I waved her off. Without meaning to, I took a step forward. "What? So you'll need to have someone actually hurt her before you do your job?"
"No one is going to hurt her," Gabe scoffed.
"Damn straight," I growled, inches from his face. "I'll make sure of it.”
Chapter Five
Brynn
"Hey now," I said, waving my hands at Rett like he was a spooked horse. "Back off there, Boy Scout. It's not a big deal."
Rett stepped back from his stare down with Gabe and shoved his hands in his pocket. One hand migrated out to run through his hair, sending it sticking out crazily at all ends.
I took a deep breath and tried to stop my suddenly shaking hands. I tried to smile reassuringly but through my clenched teeth it came out more as a grimace. Seeing how shook up Rett was made me more frightened than I had been initially. "I'm going to text you the picture right now," Rett rumbled to Gabe.
I looked down at the bootprint and the print of Rett's right next to it. Rett's was a good inch bigger, he'd said he was a size twelve and I could see that. He had big feet. You know what they say about guys with big feet. They have...other big things too.
A sick little giggle escaped my lips and suddenly I was laughing. The air was thick with some kind of weird, unbearable tension and I didn't know how to deal with it so I was just giggling like crazy. Suddenly this all seemed so absurd, all three of us standing making a huge deal out of nothing more than of footprint in the grass. I’d definitely had too much to drink tonight. I couldn’t hold my liquor around Rett it seemed.
"Guys, it's nothing," I heard myself saying. "It's fine. Not a big deal at all." I turned to Gabe. "Sorry for bothering you, tonight, man," I told him. Then I swallowed again and smiled all the wider. "It was good to see you again," I lied.
Gabe puffed up a little and broke his stare down with Rett. "It's good to see you again, Reese's Pieces," he said, and my smile faltered a little when I heard my old nickname. "And you've got nothing to worry about. I've been on the force a while, I've got a nose for trouble and this doesn't smell like trouble to me. Probably just a tourist taking a shortcut back from the falls."
I nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, that's probably it, I'm sure of it. You're absolutely right."
The noise that came from Rett's direction let me know that he disagreed. Ignoring my still racing heart, I shot him a look. "Don't worry about it, Rett."
Gabe turned back to Rett with a withering sigh. "Man, McLame, you don't change, do you?"
I winced at the nasty nickname back from when we were in high school. For his part, Rett just glared out from underneath his dark eyebrows, holding Gabe's eye contact long enough that Gabe finally backed down. I watched him get back into his patrol car with a feeling of unexpected release.
Those months in high school that I spent as the so-called Queen of Keg Stands was not a time I liked to remember. It was the time well, it was the time right after my mom had split for good. When we never knew if she was going to come back or not. Each night that I came home, I waited for her to be lying in wait for me, blowing into my life like a tornado, never knowing where it would land. After a while, coming home became too hard, and I spent more and more time in the woods, getting completely plastered with my friends.
I put those days behind me, long ago, but people like Gabe, they didn't like to let me forget about them.
"I'll keep an eye on the place," Gabe called from his window.
Suddenly the idea of Gabe coming back around again had me anxious. "It's probably nothing," I called, waving him off. "Don't worry about it, okay?"
"Stop playing it off like it's nothing," Rett rumbled, low and smooth in a voice that cut right through me.
I turned to look back at him. "But it probably is," I wavered, unable to keep from swaying a little.
He saw, and came right to my side. "Here. Let's get you inside."
"I can do it myself," I protested. But his hand went to the small of my back anyway, pushing me gently towards the door.
As I mounted the stairs, I stopped for a second and rested with my head right on his shoulder. The flood of adrenaline that had poured through my body upon seeing that unfamiliar bootprint suddenly abandoned me, leaving me yawning in its wake.
Rett wrapped his arm around my waist, squeezing just a little bit more tightly than what was friendly. I chalked it up to worry. We were friends. We'd known each other forever. My brother was his best friend. He'd just always been, around I told myself. Now he's just... around again.
But every cell in my body seemed to be livening with his touch. Whether it was the alcohol, or the adrenaline of the moment, I would never be sure, but I turned my face towards him, nearly level standing on the step above, and for a second his lips were so tempting that I felt myself leaning towards him.
He smiled. "Call me if you need anything," he said. His lips were so close to mine that his breath brushed across my cheek. "I like being useful. So you tell me what you need, okay?" he said in a voice so low it was nearly inaudible.
For a second I considered telling him exactly what I needed. A warm body in the bed next to me so I didn't feel so scared of this prowler who seemed hell-bent on making my life difficult.
But I kept my mouth shut. Finally, he turned away and retreated back down my walkway, leaving me unsure as to what had left me feeling so rattled. The prowler? Or him?
Chapter Six
Everett
I nosed my car out of the hospital parking lot and waved my thanks to the minivan full of tourists that let me in front of them. Then I sighed and switched on my radio, resigning myself to the slow crawl back into town.
It was the official start of the season. Friday evenings in June in Reckless Falls always brought with it a line of cars, stretching back out of town for miles, like a slow parade. The population swelled to ten times its normal amount. Every hotel and bed and breakfast had a No Vacancy sign out front, and every cafe and diner was packed with people celebrating the start of the season.
The sun was still high in the sky over Whaleback Mountain. Tonight was the solstice, the longest night of the year and everyone was taking advantage of it. The deep blue surface of the lake was dotted with boats and the whine of Jet Skis was loud enough to be heard over the noise of my radio. Traffic was so slow along Main Street that the pedestrians ambling along the sidewalk were moving faster than I was. Normally this would bug me. In the summer time I took pains to avoid Main Street at all costs, choosing to wind my way an extra five miles through the back roads to get home. But tonight I had business on Main Street. I was headed to see my friend.
The sign for Lake Country Tours hung between Mrs. Feathergill's dusty antiques store and Scoop's Ice Cream Station. A good location, especially in summer time. I pulled my car into the municipal lot just behind it, and parked, then reached into my pocket one more time to make sure I had my phone.
A bootprint just under her window like that meant that someone was looking in. Were they looking in to make sure she wasn't home? Or, worse, were they watching her while she was?
Both thoughts unnerved me in equal measure, and I knew they'd unnerve Cal too, so I'd have to be cagey about how much I told him.
When I opened the door into his small office, he looked up and raised his eyebrows in quick greeting before returning his attention to the older hippie-looking couple seated at his desk. As he went over tour packages, I idly paced around his shop, picking up brochures and putting them back down again.
"Hey man," Callum greeted me as the older couple packed up, looking immensely pleased.
"Hey," I said, sitting down and waving one of the brochures. "I just read about a new excursion I want to try. When are you going to start offering donkey rides down the gully?"
&
nbsp; "Why? You volunteering to be one of the asses?" he shot back, reaching out to shake my hand.
I clasped it and grinned. "You want asses, not assholes," I reminded him. "I'm completely overqualified."
"Touché," he grinned. "What's going on? Weird seeing you here at work."
"I know, I should stop by more," I said.
"Nah. Neither one of us wants you to do that."
"You think you're on a roll today or something?" I needled him.
He leaned back and stretched. "I booked fifteen tours for the next week. Man do I love summer."
"Harper's not going to like that," I pointed out.
"She'll like the money," he nodded. "Diapers cost a fucking fortune and I swear Ellie poops every fifteen minutes."
I winced. "That's why I like being an uncle. She shits herself, I can just give her back."
"Oh come on, you know you want your own little rug rat." Cal elbowed me, then leaned forward. "Oh wait, I forgot. First you'd need to get laid."
"Fuck you," I grinned amiably, reaching into my pocket and pulling out my phone.
A text message was blinking on the screen. "I didn't see you before you headed out, so just a reminder, see you tomorrow at the Country Club 7PM," the message from Hal read.
I sighed heavily, ignoring it for a moment as I swiped past it to my photos. "Hey, make yourself useful," I told Cal, "and look at this picture." I flicked to the shot of the two bootprints. "The one on the right, with that tread, is that a hiking boot?"
Cal looked at me quizzically before leaning forward. "The smaller one? Yeah probably, though I'd guess based on that tread pattern that it's more of a hiking shoe."
"Shoe?"
"Yeah, someone who does trail running or something like that." He leaned back again. "Why do you ask?"
I pressed my lips together. Telling him why I had this picture would mean telling him why I was outside of Brynn's house. He'd asked me to check in on her, assuming my feelings for her were sisterly and innocent. "Some asshole keeps cutting across my lawn," I lied, setting him up for a joke at my expense.
"Oh no, is he trampling your flowers?" Cal jumped in, immediately taking the bait. "Not your hydrangeas, the horror!"
I sighed. "Go on, let it all out."
"I hope the brute gets pricked by your rose bushes. It'd serve him right."
"Those were planted there when I bought the place," I pointed out.
"Doesn't matter, you still spend way too much time pruning them."
"You have to prune roses. It helps them stay healthy."
Cal fixed me with a withering glare. "Just once," he sighed. "Just once I'd like to see you fuck something up. Anything. Forget an appointment. Even just get a spot on your shirt."
I grinned and stood up. "Not gonna happen," I promised him, reaching out to shake his hand again. "I need to give you something to aspire to."
He sighed and shook his head. "Grayson and Harper, they both call me a control freak, but I've got nothing on you, man." He clasped my hand. "Where you headed now?"
I looked down at my watch. "You working late?"
His face fell. "Yeah, I'm here til nine. Too much business to snap up."
Just then the bell over the door jingled. I nodded. "Keep my niece properly diapered," I hissed to him.
"Thanks man," Cal said, distracted. "Hi, welcome to Lake Country Tours!" he called out to the milling tourists.
I walked from his shop feeling a mix of amusement and admiration. Amusement at Cal's running his business and being forced to deal with the public in a civilized manner. But admiration because my friend was clearly doing well for himself and his family.
I pulled out my phone and swiped to the unanswered text message from Hal.
"I'll be there," I typed back.
He must have been waiting by his phone because the message came back immediately. "And don't forget to bring a date!" Hal wrote.
I took a deep breath and shoved my phone back in my pocket. There was only one person I could imagine bringing with me to this function. And it just so happened that I was turning the corner towards her father's bar right now.
Chapter Seven
Brynn
It was the first real weekend of the tourist season, so I'd planned from the get-go to help my dad with the rush. I'd spent most of the day filling drink orders and answering questions about what to do in town. Pretty much everyone got a recommendation to check out Lake Country Tours if they really wanted to see all the area had to offer. I neglected to mention that Lake Country Tours was owned by my brother.
We didn't sell food, but were doing a brisk business with nacho plates and fried mozzarella sticks up until nine PM, when I looked over at my Dad. He'd been here since nine this morning, closing in on a twelve hour shift, and my daughter-guilt kicked into high gear. "Go home, Dad," I told him. "The rush is over. I can handle the rest."
"Nah," he growled.
Patrick Reese was a stubborn man, but not half as stubborn as his daughter. I stood my ground and planted my hands on my hips. "Go home," I said, flicking my rag at him.
"You go home," my dad grumbled. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine, you're old and grumpy."
"That's why I'm a good bartender," my dad pointed out. But he leaned back against the back wall and sighed, pulling off his glasses and wiping the lens with his t-shirt.
I looked around. Most of the rush was over and since Reckless Falls was mostly a tourist destination for families, there was little chance of it picking back up again. I laughed. "There's no reason for you to be working so damn hard now, Dad," I said. "I got it. Go home. You're a fucking pain in my ass."
His eyes widened. "Jumping jellybeans, you've got a mouth on you that you didn't get from me."
I grinned. "You're the only fifty-something bartender in the world who says fiddlesticks and jumping jellybeans. Go home, Dad. Save your energy for when I suddenly get a life and stop offering."
He raised one eyebrow and I could tell he was about to make some kind of smartass observation when his face suddenly stiffened in a suppressed yawn. He clapped his hand over his mouth guiltily, then sighed. "Okay you caught me."
I laughed as he stomped away and listened to make sure I heard the back door close, then turned back to finish wiping the glasses as they came out of the dishwasher, humming busily to myself like I could drown out that little buzz of anticipation that sung through my veins. Every time the door opened, I craned my neck to see who was coming in, checking for a head of chestnut hair and a lopsided dimpled smile.
I thought back to the brand-new journal I bought on Amazon. With its beautifully thick pages, leather cover and crisp linen binding, it would be the perfect place to collect my thoughts.
If I ever sat down with it. But so far it sat unopened, still in the box from Amazon.
No wait, I did open it and had no idea what the hell to do with the blank pages.
I squeaked my rag across the glass and sighed in frustration. Why did I always do this? Why did I always make a sweeping pronouncement about a change in my life, and then never follow through?
The front door squeaked open, and I looked up, eager for a distraction from these distressing thoughts.
He strode through the door, a man with a plan and a purpose. I felt myself heat up, the color leaping to my cheeks. Were his eyes always so green or was it just a trick of the light?
I swallowed and summoned my most casual, unaffected smile. "Hey there. You look less terrible than last night," I teased.
He licked the corner of his mouth before sitting down right in front of me. I found myself staring at the spot on his mouth, the way it shone in the low light. I was staring so hard that I almost jumped when his mouth started moving.
"Well, you look really pretty," he said.
The offhandedness of his remark sort of took me aback and I quickly tried to recover my tongue. "You using me for drinks again?" I coughed.
His only response was a quiet smile, so without a word, I t
urned and reached up high on the shelf for the bottle of bourbon that he and I had gotten into yesterday. He accepted the first drink with a raised glass, and I watched him knock it back. The way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down made something in my throat go dry and I downed my own drink to wet it.
The silence stretched out too long to be comfortable. It was a bad habit of mine that I had to fill silences, and this one just ached to be filled. So, without thinking, I started babbling about the first thing that came to my mind.
Why the hell was that my mother?
"I sent my dad home," I said. "He won't listen to me. He works too much, you know?" I watched my hands slice through the air as I punctuated my sentence with a flourish and forced myself to press them flat against the bar. I looked down at them, studying my knuckles rather than look at up Rett's calm, appraising eyes. "My dad, he always feels that he has to make it up to us that our mom split. I think if he could somehow asexually divide himself into two parents, he would," I sighed. Then I looked up, mortified at the image, but Rett was just watching me quietly, with no judgment in his eyes. He lifted his chin upward in a slight encouraging nod and my embarrassment over talking too much and being morbid slowly ebbed away. I met his eyes, willing him to understand something I really didn't understand myself. "He doesn't understand that we don't need her, you know? It's like... he stepped in to fill her shoes and filled them out so well that he overshadowed her, at least as far as I'm concerned." I stood back up again, wondering like hell where this was coming from.
"Does Cal feel the same way?" Rett asked carefully.
I searched his face. "You know he does," I said. "I'm sure he's talked to you about it."
Rett shook his head. "No, not really. Once your mom left, he just sort of stopped talking about her entirely. It was like he wanted to ignore that she ever existed."
I nodded. "Believe me, I felt the same way. But I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm a girl, but I can't just forget and move on. Even though I'm telling my dad to do that all the time." I straightened up and cleared my throat. "Here I am using you as a therapist," I laughed. "You are useful. Like you say."
