by Jenny Penn
“Yeah, have a seat.” Alex nodded to the chair across from him as he kicked it out with his foot.
GD eyed the chair as if he expected it to bite him before casting a hard look back at Alex. “I can’t stay long.”
“Really? Got something going on? Maybe out at the club?” Alex asked, needling GD because he knew he was right just as he knew that he’d been intentionally left off the invitation list. “Maybe something to do with Rachel?”
“You need to leave that girl alone, Alex,” GD delivered that message as he stared him down, half-tempting Alex to roll his eyes.
Of all the things he was tired of, the lectures about his interest in Rachel Adams were at the top of the list. They’d gotten annoying, and a little insulting, especially from guys like GD who should know better. Rachel might be a sweet girl and kind of cute, but he hadn’t even made a pass.
All Alex had done was chat her up a few times, and only then to antagonize Killian and Adam, who were seriously jealous and possessive. After what they’d done to him with Gwen, he owed them a little annoyance and now, he owed GD.
“Don’t worry.” Alex smiled. “I’m not planning on doing anything to that girl that she doesn’t beg me to do.”
“You’re a real bastard, you know that?”
“When I want to be,” Alex agreed unrepentantly. “But you didn’t come here to tell me what I already know.”
“No, I didn’t.” GD heaved a sigh, clearly having difficulty letting the subject go. “So, you got something for me?”
“Yeah.” Leaning back so he could reach all the way into his pocket, he pulled out a slip of paper and passed it over toward GD. “That’s Hugh’s address. I already talked to the sheriff up there, he knows the guy Hugh is working for, probably an all-cash deal.”
“It’s going to be hard to get the money then,” GD muttered as he glanced at the information on the paper. “Jesus, Hugh went all the way to Alaska?”
“The sheriff said he’d pick up the cash and have it wired down here by Tuesday, so tell Heather not to worry about that,” Alex assured him, causing GD’s gaze to narrow in on him once again.
They both knew the sheriff up in Alaska didn’t have that kind of power. He might be able to confiscate and hold the cash, but it wouldn’t be there by Tuesday. They both knew it, just as they both knew that the money would be waiting in Heather’s name at the bank Tuesday morning.
“Thanks, man.” GD gave him a nod. “I can cover half.”
“It’s not necessary.”
“None of this is,” GD shot back, his eyes shifting to focus on something over Alex’s shoulder. “You know, I could tell her where the money really comes from—”
“No,” Alex growled, feeling his nerves instantly ripple with a sudden irritation at that very thought. “Just go.”
“Fine. Be miserable.”
GD shoved past the table and stormed off toward the back of the bakery. Alex turned to watch as he told Heather the good news. Her face lit up with a glow and a smile that had his heart clenching. Heather was happy, and so was Alex.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
* * * *
Heather breathed a sigh of relief as GD informed her he’d found Hugh. She’d have money coming her way in a few days. As always, she had GD to thank. Wrapping her arms around him, Heather gave GD the only thing he’d ever let her as payment for the wonderful things he did—a hug.
“Oh, thank you.” Heather leaned back and found her first real smile in weeks. “This will make the strain of Camp D’s summer program a little more manageable.”
“I thought Camp D had financial aid?”
Heather frowned at that suggestion. “Aid should be for those who need it.”
“I hate to break this to you, beautiful, but you need it,” GD shot back with the grim conviction of a man who knew his words were falling on deaf ears.
“Not now, I don’t,” Heather reminded him before quickly trying to turn the subject away from that old argument. “I can’t believe you found Hugh in Alaska. Where do you think he’ll run to next? Siberia?”
“You suggesting that I start freshening up on my Russian?” GD glanced over to where Alex sat glaring at them over the rim of his coffee cup. “Because I think the sheriff might know a few words.”
“Don’t bank on it,” Heather muttered as she returned Alex’s hard stare. “After all the man doesn’t even know basic English commands like ‘get out’.”
“Yeah?” GD chuckled as he cast a curious look in her direction. “I heard you ordered him out quite publicly a week or so ago, and everybody said he left.”
“And came back the next day.” Much to Heather’s delight.
Though she never would have admitted it to anybody, it turned out she was as sick as Chase Davis. She liked the pain, too. That had become clear the night she wasted worrying over what she’d done, and whether she’d ever get to see him again. That thought should have freed her but instead it had weighed heavily on Heather, making her realize how accustomed she’d become to having him around.
Who could blame her?
In the past twenty plus years there hadn’t been a day that Heather could remember when she hadn’t seen Alex. The only other person she could say that about was her dad. She certainly couldn’t say it about Konor. That didn’t mean Heather didn’t feel his presence. The growing sense of anticipation had thickened in her veins as she’d marked off every day counting all the way down from nineteen.
She had three more days to go.
Realizing she was scrubbing the counter harder than necessary, Heather forced herself to stop, close her eyes, and take a deep breath as she tried to release all her frustrations as she let it out slowly. It didn’t work.
Then again, it was a lot to ask.
After all, it had been over three weeks since she’d come anywhere near a release. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been trying, but all Heather had gotten for her efforts other than a hand cramp was sweaty. Whatever Konor had done to her, the bastard hadn’t lied when he’d warned her she wouldn’t be able to get off without help.
His help.
Not that Heather was particularly interested in testing that part of his threat, which was kind of a shame, given the number of offers she was receiving lately. Strangely enough, her admirers hadn’t been deterred by the fact that she knew about the Challenge, just the opposite.
They seemed emboldened by the truth being made public. Emboldened and increasingly insistent, which was an annoyance Heather took out on Alex every day. Glancing over at the sheriff, Heather scowled when she realized he’d moved and was no longer sitting alone at his table. Now he was cozied up next to Rachel at the bar.
Heather wasn’t sure when her friend had arrived, but it was clear from her flirtatious smile what Rachel was up to. She was baiting her hook, but Heather knew she wasn’t trying to land Alex. No, the sheriff was simply bait. Rachel was trolling for bigger game, namely Killian and Adam.
Heather feared that neither man would take kindly to being so obviously manipulated. In fact, the very emptiness of her bakery assured Heather that they were up to something, not that Rachel took her up on her offer to rescue her, and Heather didn’t have time to lecture her friend. Her concerns for Rachel were sidetracked as her son burst through the front door with her father trailing dutifully, if slowly, behind.
“Hey, mom!”
“Taylor!”
She greeted him with an enthusiasm that outdid his, holding her arms open for a hug that had him casting a quick glance around the bakery before darting in and out with a quickness that spoke of his unease. His obvious embarrassment only prompted her to swoop him up in a big bear hug while she smothered his head in kisses.
“Mom!” Squirming free, Taylor cast her an indignant look as he straightened his shirt.
“Mom,” Heather echoed, unable to control her smile at the look Taylor shot her. “Go on and get a booth, and I’ll get you some milk.”
“I want soda,” Taylor lodg
ed his normal complaint, prompting Heather to offer her usual response.
“You can have water instead.”
“Soda.”
“Milk it is.”
“Can you at least put some chocolate in it?” Taylor asked hopefully.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Heather promised before warning him, “but chocolate in the milk means no desert.”
“That’s not fair,” Taylor complained.
“That’s life,” Alex answered before Heather could dispense a less brutal lesson. Rising off his seat to tower over Taylor, Alex gazed down at her son for a long moment. “And a man learns not to whine about it.”
“Thank you, sheriff,” Heather retorted crisply. “But I encourage my son to share his honest opinions.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to listen to him, right?” Alex goaded her softly, his gaze heating with a wicked sort of amusement that had Heather flushing as she bristled.
“Of course, I’m going to listen.”
“Why?” Alex frowned in mock confusion. “Whatever he says, it’s not going to change your opinion.”
“It might,” Heather insisted even as she felt the heat searing her cheeks spread up her ears in a tell-tale giveaway that she was lying. They both knew it. Alex snorted, his lips parting on a no doubt cutting comeback, but he got cut short by her father who spoke up.
“Sheriff.”
Her father dropped a hand weathered by the sun and scarred by his long hours working construction onto Taylor’s shoulder, a pointed remind to both Heather and Alex that her son was watching their exchanged with rapt attention. Standing there with his eyes rounded and glittering with excitement, Taylor was staring up at Alex with something Heather feared might be awe or admiration.
“Mr. Lawson.” As cool and smooth as he’d always been when parents were around, Alex shifted his attention to Heather’s father, offering the older man a polite nod. “You’re looking good, sir.”
“And so is your parent’s yard this summer.” Ralph eyed Alex with a look that could easily have been mistaken as envy. “I see your dad out there puttering around all day. He’s really got a green thumb, huh?”
“That he does,” Alex agreed easily. “Though he only does it for mom. She’s the one that picks out all the plants and likes having all the gardens.”
“Well, she has the prettiest ones on the block,” Heather cut in, not about to let Alex drag out the moment by engaging her father in small talk. Everybody knew her dad had the gift of gab and given five minutes he’d talk anybody’s ear off, but not tonight. Not with Alex.
“Why don’t you go on and claim a booth, dad,” she suggested, forcing a smile for her son’s sake. “And I’ll get on that chocolate milk.”
“Make it extra chocolaty if I’m not getting a desert,” Taylor ordered before following his granddad toward their normal booth in back.
Heather watched them walk away, unnerved by the look her father had shot Alex before he’d turned away. Paranoid as she was, she couldn’t help but wonder at its significance. Her father knew what Alex had done, how both he and Konor had conspired to humiliate her. Heather had made sure of it, certain of just where her father’s loyalty would ultimately lie.
Or she had been until that moment, but that problem would have to wait until after she got rid of Alex. Snatching the fifty and the check out of his hand, Heather turned and marched stiffly off toward the register, leaving the sheriff to trail behind her. He did so slowly, watching her with a brooding gaze that had the air thickening with tension as she rang up his total on the cash register.
The computerized little accountant beeped and chirped, eventually spitting out its cash drawer as the correct amount of changed flashed on its tiny monitor. Heather shoved the fifty beneath the register’s little pull-out basket and quickly gathered up Alex’s change before hitting the drawer with her hip. It snapped closed as she handed over the money.
Alex’s fingers brushed over hers as his fist closed around the cash, igniting an electric thrill that had Heather jerking back as her gaze flew to his. For a moment she found herself caught in the dark swirl reflected in his eyes. There were storms, deep and intense, gathering in his gaze.
“If I told you I didn’t have anything to do with this challenge—”
“Then we’d both know you were liar.” Fighting to control the quiver rippling through her muscles, Heather forced herself to pull her hand back and step away from Alex. “You and Konor, you’re loyal only to yourselves.”
“Yeah? If that’s true, then why the hell did I rat him out to Patton?” Alex demanded to know as he flushed red with his outrage.
His fingers clenched around the cash trapped in his fist, and she could sense that he had more to say, but he didn’t. Without another word but with one final hard look, he turned and stormed out of the bakery, leaving Heather standing there trying to think of an answer.
She couldn’t find one, and to admit that he had a point, him ratting Konor out didn’t make any sense. Neither did it matter. Alex was still up to something and so was Konor.
* * * *
Konor pulled his truck into Riley’s pitted parking lot and brought his truck to a stop next to Alex’s underneath the neon sign that should have been replaced long ago. It buzzed and snapped over Konor’s head as he trudged toward the front door. The stale stink that greeted him as he wrenched open the bar’s front door perfectly reflected Konor’s souring mood over the past fifteen days.
Fifteen days.
They had been the longest days of his life. Every one of them had been a struggle not to give in to the need driving him to seek Heather out. It had been too soon. He still had everything to prove, but waiting was a strain on his mood, and temper. Both were frayed and feathered to the very edge of his control.
Fortunately he didn’t have to wait much longer. Tomorrow the first stage of his plan would be enacted, and he should have been home resting in bed, but where was he instead?
Stuck picking Alex up from the slump he’d been sliding into for the past few weeks, which was almost more than Konor’s patience could withstand. After all, Alex didn’t have anybody but himself to blame for his own sad predicament. Nobody, that was, but Konor, or so Alex insisted.
Konor didn’t agree.
He certainly didn’t feel guilty over the matter. No, Konor was more irritated than anything, and he had every right to be. He was the one who had been betrayed and it was his plans being shot to hell thanks to Alex’s contrary nature. The damn man was supposed to have snapped by now and given in to the years of built-up want and frustration, claiming Heather as his own in an explosive outpouring of emotion that ended with an orgy of carnal delights that reached epic portions.
One that Konor had every intention of participating in…that is, if the invitation ever got issued. That seemed like a big ‘if’ given Alex’s determination to completely screw him over. Konor’s only solace was that Alex was taking everybody out with him. Nobody stood a chance with her thanks to his big mouth.
Spying Alex slumped over a bar stool, Konor frowned as he took in Alex’s mussed hair, his wrinkled clothes, and his eyes, so bloodshot it hurt to even look in them. None of that worried him half as much as the defeated curve of Alex’s spine. He didn’t even look up as Konor slid onto the stool beside him. Instead, Alex squinted at Riley as he shook his empty bottle at the bartender.
“I could use another.”
“I think you’ve had enough,” Riley retorted.
“Oh, come on,” Alex groused. “I barely had any.”
“You ain’t even paid for the ones you had.”
“Konor here will pay,” Alex assured him, suddenly all too eager to lop an arm over his best friend’s shoulder and pull him up close to the bar. “In fact, I’m sure Konor is more than willing to buy the next couple of rounds, aren’t you?”
“Sure,” Konor agreed easily enough, reaching back to yank Alex’s wallet out of his back pocket as his friend tipped drunk
enly forward.
“Hey!” Alex turned as he exclaimed in outrage, but the sound was cut short as he fell out of his seat and went crashing toward the floor. Konor ignored him to fish a couple of twenties out of Alex’s wallet.
“That cover it?” He asked as he slapped the money into Riley’s outstretched hand.
“Sure thing, man.”
The money disappeared quickly as Alex tried to scramble back to his feet. He flailed about, crashing into several more chairs before finally using one to help hoist him up. He clenched it tightly in one hand as he stood there wavering and wagging a finger at Konor.
“Now wait…wait just a…a minute.”
Alex swallowed one more burp, managing to get the last word out before the backed-up gas exploded into a loud, multi-toned belch, the force of which would have sent him falling back onto his ass if Konor had caught him. Looping an arm around Alex’s back and under his shoulder, he pulled his friend’s arm over his shoulder before starting to drag him toward the door. Alex didn’t resist, but stumbled over his feet as he continued to complain.
“You know, this is all your fault.” Alex grumped, going from indignant to pathetic in the blink of an eye. “Oh, I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Then you’ll definitely be riding in the bed,” Konor muttered to himself, not that Alex would probably have understood what he said. That is, if he even heard him.
“This is all your fault.”
“You said that already,” Konor reminded him as he paused to center himself before trying to balance both Alex’s weight and opening the heavy wood door. Alex didn’t cooperate as he tried to stumble back.
“Well, it is,” Alex insisted indignantly. “You’re the ass that set her up, and I’m the fool getting blamed.”
“My heart weeps for you,” Konor assured him dryly, though his sarcasm seemed loss on Alex.
“As it should.” Alex didn’t budge when Konor nodded at him to go on through the doorway, but instead remained firmly planted in his spot as he aired his grievances. “I’m the one who has been wronged here. First by Heather, and now by you.”
