by Fiona Lowe
“Who told you about the bacon buddies, Sheriff?”
“Bethany put it up on Twitter. It’s got more re-tweets than Ethan Langworthy striking out at the annual County versus Chamber of Commerce softball match, but that was pretty much expected. Happens just about every year. The guy should know better. I’ll see you at noon.”
“Over and out.” She opened up the Twitter app on her phone, thinking about what Mitch had just said. Why did Ethan sign up for the team and open himself up for ridicule?
Because he walks his own line.
He didn’t care what people thought about him; he just did what he enjoyed and took those along with him who wanted to join him. She admired that about him. She’d seen it in action when he’d taken her dancing. They’d danced so much it had been like a second workout of the day. From the Macarena to the twist with some line dancing thrown in and then an ABBA chaser, they’d danced it all. None of the dances had been slow, and none had involved much more touching that his hand in hers as he twirled her in and out.
Touch was a strange thing. With one person it could be threatening. With another it was reassuring. Ethan’s hand in hers was both of those things, except the threat didn’t come from him but from her heart. He was too easy to like, and that frightened her the most. He’d spent most of the evening with her, only leaving her when he’d answered a request from Will to play a waltz on his cello for Mrs. van Dyke.
Unlike the edgier music he usually played, the romantic tune had floated into the air—sweet and soft—like powdered sugar, and couples danced cheek to cheek. It had made her yearn for something she’d never known, but at the same time it had put her on edge. In the end, her overriding emotion was one of a lucky save—lucky he hadn’t been free to hold her tight and waltz her around. She’d have been tempted to let him lead her anywhere while she rested her head on his shoulder.
“Excuse me, Officer,” a nervous voice said. “Um, hi.”
She pulled her mind back from her destabilizing thoughts about Ethan and noticed that a woman holding a little girl’s hand was standing in front of her. “May I help you?”
“Um, I’m Carly, and Millie Switkowski said you’re going to, um, run some women’s only classes at the gym?”
“I was thinking about it. Are you interested?”
Carly nodded. “I’d like to sign up. Will there be child care?”
That idea hadn’t even occurred to her. “I guess there should be, right?” She’d ask Ethan how to go about organizing it.
“That would be great. I know at least five other women who’d come.”
Tara pulled a page out of her notebook and wrote down her cell number. “Get their names and numbers and text them to me. I’ll get back to you all with a date and time.”
“Thank you so much.”
Carly’s daughter, who’d been fidgeting next to her mother, suddenly squealed in delight. “Mommy, look! It’s a lion.”
Tara automatically turned and realized the library tent was right behind her. Standing outside was a two-legged lion with a shaggy mane and tail. With a brown nose and brown whiskers that seemed like they’d been drawn on with an eyebrow pencil, the lion looked suspiciously like Ethan.
Holding the costume’s tail, he bobbed down to the child’s height and said, “I’ve lost my roar and I can’t remember what it sounds like. Do you know?”
The little girl’s eyes went as round as saucers, and she nodded very seriously before scrunching up her face and yelling, “Raar!”
Putting his hand on his lion chest, Ethan fell back, pretending to be scared. “Wow, that’s loud. But how did my roar end up inside of you?”
“It’s my roar, silly,” she said confidently as she spied the craft table. “Mommy, I want to go inside and draw a lion.” She tugged her mother inside the tent.
Tara tried to imagine herself at age five again and thought she probably would have wanted to go inside, too. Lots of yellow and brown streamers and balloons festooned the roof of the tent, and posters of books featuring lions decorated the walls including The Lion and the Mouse, When Lions Roar, and The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. One corner of the tent had beanbags and a sofa, and a few parents were taking some time out from the day’s events and reading stories to their children. Diagonally opposite the reading nook, Tara could see Ethan’s emo intern disinterestedly painting a child’s face. It looked more like a Dalmatian than a lion, so perhaps Tahlee had gotten sick of painting lions.
Ethan gave her a welcoming smile, his caramel eyes alive with the joy of life.
Without a moment’s hesitation she smiled straight back at him and immediately realized how unusual that was for her, because it wasn’t something that came naturally. Often, she had to force herself to smile.
“I’ve lost my roar, Officer Tara, and I can’t remember what it sounds like?”
“You’ve done an amazing job with the tent, Ethan.”
The painted whiskers on his face wriggled as his cheeks creased with fun. “I’ve lost my roar, Officer Tara, and I can’t remember what it sounds like.”
Understanding dawned, and she suspected her eyes might be as wide as the little girl’s. “You don’t really expect me to roar, do you? I’m in uniform.”
“I thought the police department helped lions to find stolen things.” He tilted his head toward a group of children who’d gathered around them, and one of his costume ears flopped forward. He scratched his fake mane. “Do you think Officer Tara should help me find my roar?”
“Yes!” they all chorused, jumping up and down and clapping their hands.
She glanced at the parents, who were smiling indulgently at their kids. She really didn’t feel comfortable roaring. “Open your mouth,” she said pulling her flashlight from her belt.
He played along and opened his mouth wide and said, “Ah.”
She shone the torch down his throat. “I can see your roar right there. It’s just been hiding.” She turned to the crowd. “When I count to three, if everyone roars, I’m sure it will come back.”
“You have to roar, too, Tara,” he said softly in her ear.
His breath tickled her skin, and a whoosh of delicious and addictive sensation whizzed through her, stirring up mayhem and leaving behind longing.
Just maybe you can trust this one?
She tried hard to shrug the thought away, but it wouldn’t totally leave.
“Nothing bad will happen, you know,” he said as if he’d just read her mind. “Other than perhaps you straining your throat. What do you have to lose?”
My reputation as a stern law enforcement officer. Every protective strategy I’ve surrounded myself with for years.
“It’s just a bit of fun, Tara.”
Fun. She really didn’t do fun, and it certainly didn’t come naturally.
But these kids were looking at her with a combination of anticipation, respect and a little bit of awe. “Okay, everyone, one, two, three.”
Everyone roared and she opened her mouth and joined in, letting out the sound. It was loud, long and, going by the look of some of the younger children’s faces, just a little bit scary. It felt absolutely amazing.
The roars came to an end and she turned to Ethan. “Everyone did a great job, so I think it’s time for your roar to come out now.”
He winked at her and roared. She snapped a photo and tagged it Bear Paw librarian roaring for reading. #OnlyEthan.
Chapter 18
As the band swung into action and people started dancing in front of the stage, Will sipped a cold beer, savoring the malty flavor as well as the fact he was now no longer on call. Now he could totally relax, and it was Josh’s turn to care for the health needs of Bear Paw. As the evening involved people letting off fireworks after a day of drinking, Josh could be in for a busy night.
He deserved it. Midafternoon, Josh had asked him to judge the chili cook-off. When he’d excitedly sought Millie out at the first aid tent and told her he thought it was a real honor, she’d burs
t out laughing.
“What’s so funny? You think an Aussie can’t judge chili?”
She’d patted him on the arm. “I’m sure you’re more than capable. Off you go and have fun.”
The moment he’d arrived at the cook-off area, he’d realized being asked to judge wasn’t an honor at all. Bear Paw took its chili as seriously as the women of Murrinwindi took their Lamingtons, scones and vanilla slice entries in the annual agricultural show. Josh had totally wimped out and hand-balled him a live social grenade.
Susie Switkowski had given him a nod, a smile and a wave as if to say, I know you’re sleeping with my daughter and with that comes responsibilities. When he’d been prevaricating between first and second place, Bethany had said, “Man up and make a damn decision,” and the hospital team of Cassidy, Helen and Larissa had threatened to reactivate the NoBallsBartlett Twitter hashtag if he didn’t give them first prize. Apparently trash-talking the judge was also part of the fun of the competition. He was in a lose-lose situation, and Josh Stanton owed him big-time.
As it turned out, the acerbic Bethany cooked amazing chili and had carried off the blue rosette—not that it had won him any favors.
“Doctor Bartlett, no one can understand that accent of yours,” Bethany had said, plucking the microphone out of his hand and raising it to her mouth. “Attention, everyone. The winner of the prestigious Bear Paw chili cook-off is Bethany Jacobson. That’s three years in a row, people.”
The nurses had made it clear that he wasn’t getting any favors from them anytime soon, which meant he was back to making his own coffee. Susie had given him a reproachful look, and Danny, shaking his head slowly as if Will’s intelligence was under scrutiny, had said, “As a doctor, I thought you were supposed to be smart.”
Oh yeah, Josh deserved to be frantic all night instead of being tucked up in bed with his new bride.
Thinking about bed made him think of Millie. She’d texted saying she was going home to get changed and she’d meet him later. He hoped later was soon. They’d spent the holiday passing each other rather than spending it together, which hadn’t been his intention at all. After the parade, he’d assumed they would have strolled around the tents and then kicked back on a picnic rug in the shade, listening to the live music, but Bear Paw responsibilities had pulled them both in different directions.
“Hey, Will.”
He turned to see Ethan looking more like his usual self, dressed in mustard skinny jeans, a floral shirt and a vest. “The lion’s done for the day?”
“The lion sleeps tonight,” he said as he showed his button to the bartender and picked up a beer.
“A-wimoweh.” He raised his plastic cup to him. “Good day?”
“Yeah, it was.” Ethan sipped his beer thoughtfully. “For the last few weeks, I’ve been trying to find something that excites my intern, and while I was busy being king of the little kids, she totally rocked the teen tent.” His mouth turned up in a wry smile. “It seems her indifference is way less threatening than my enthusiasm. What about you?”
“We got a lot of interest in the chopper. People are always fascinated by how much state-of-the-art medical equipment we can fit into a confined space. And they were generous with their loose change donations.”
“Would it even cover the cost of turning the helicopter on?”
Will laughed. “When you add together fuel, staff and wear and tear on the chopper, it works out about ten thousand dollars a minute to run, so not even close. But working with the flying doctors taught me that if the community feels a connection to the service, they support it, and we gratefully accept every penny.” The band kicked up a toe-tapping number. “You playing tonight?”
“Ty and I’ve got the set just before the fireworks.” He glanced toward the stage and grinned. “Well, will you look at that?”
Will saw three firefighters strutting their stuff on the stage. “You got a thing for guys in suspenders?”
“No. Look left.”
Will followed his gaze and saw Millie dancing with Tara, hips bumping and hands waving. He didn’t know what surprised him more—the fact Millie was still wearing scrubs or that the policewoman had metaphorically let down her hair.
“It’s every man’s fantasy,” Ethan said appreciatively. “Two women in uniform dancing together.”
The same green streak that had rushed through Will when he’d thought Ethan and Millie might have had sex shot through him again, only this time it hit faster and a lot harder. “Keep your eyes on the policewoman.”
“Steady, there, Will,” Ethan said mildly. “Millie and I are just friends.”
Just friends. That’s what he’d told his mother a few hours earlier, and given he’d spent two weeks lusting and fantasizing after Millie and another two weeks having great sex with her, just friends didn’t reassure him one little bit.
He swung his gaze back to the librarian. “Friends have been known to have sex, Ethan.”
“That’s true, although you may have more experience with that than I do.” For a librarian who wore glasses, he could lob an incredibly intimidating look. “And yes, we did talk about it once, but she was in a pretty bad place so I refused.” This time his stare hardened to the color of brittle toffee. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Millie.”
The inference was clear—Ethan thought Will might. As much as that rankled, because he’d never intentionally hurt Millie, he didn’t defend himself, because his brain was snagged, tangled and stuck on the words a pretty bad place.
A ripple of something closely related to apprehension ran through him. “What do you mean by a pretty bad place?”
Ethan shook his head. “It’s not my story to tell, Will.”
“Then why the hell did you say it?”
“I probably shouldn’t have said anything, but you were going all territorial on me.” Ethan sighed. “Look, it was a long time ago, and if Millie wanted you to know, she’d have told you. Forget I said anything.” He put down his beer. “Come on, let’s go cut in and dance.”
Will watched him go, but dancing was the last thing on his mind.
ETHAN played his entire set on autopilot, his brain full of Tara dancing in uniform. Sure it had been one quick dance with a group of first responders as part of a fund-raiser, but she’d joined in and done it. Just like she’d joined in and played along this morning looking for his roar. He really hadn’t expected her to go through with it, and when she’d opened that cherry red mouth of hers wide and let out that earsplitting roar, all he’d wanted to do was grab her, hold her tight and kiss her. Kiss her long and slow until she lost all her hard edges, softened in his arms and invited him into her bed.
Lucky for him and for the integrity of his plan, she’d roared in front of a group of little children and their parents, which had effectively stopped him from acting on impulse and doing something stupid. He was determined not to kiss her until she gave him an indisputable sign that she welcomed his touch. Doing anything before that was way too risky and could undo all the small steps she’d made.
This past week had been a new kind of torture for him. Spending time with her was amazing, but the more time they were together, the more he wanted from her, and that was the problem. Given everything she’d been through, did she have anything to give? Did she even want to try? She’d tweeted a photo of him—did that count for anything?
She tweeted you in a lion costume, doofus, just like half the town.
The moment Ty played his last chord on the guitar, Ethan laid his cello down. “Good set.”
Ty raised his brows. “You’ve played better hungover and with blistered fingers.”
“Sorry.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Bit preoccupied.”
“You think?” Ty slid his guitar into its case. “Let me guess? You’re about to ditch me to go watch the fireworks with the ice queen.”
“Don’t call her that,” he said quietly but firmly.
Ty’s hand paused on the case’s locks. “Eth, be ca
reful. Women rip out your heart, slice it up and hand it back to you in pieces.”
“Katrina didn’t deliberately do that to you, Ty.”
“Doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.”
Worried for his friend, he slapped him on the shoulder. “Come watch the fireworks with us.”
Ty snorted. “And cramp your style with the i— with Tara? I don’t think so.”
“There won’t be any cramping. She’s been through a lot, and I’m going more slowly than a turtle on sedatives.”
“Thanks, but I’m good.”
He didn’t want Ty to be alone. “You sure?”
“Yeah. I’ll watch the fireworks and then head home. I’m up early trailing cows first thing in the morning.”
“If you’re sure . . .” He said good-bye to the cowboy and made his way through the fast-fading light past the families who were cuddled up on picnic rugs waiting for the summer Montana sky to darken. Ten fifteen at night was way too late for the younger children, and many had already fallen fast asleep, curled up in their parents’ arms. One year he wanted to be one of those families with a wife, a kid and a dog.
You’re such a golden retriever, Ethan, Tahlee had said disparagingly yesterday. She’d been shelving the Spirit Animals series and he’d been telling her about his plans for today.
He’d thanked her for the compliment, which of course had earned him another eye roll, because Tahlee probably thought a retriever was pathetic and he should want to be a lion. But he valued loyalty, kindness, understanding and commitment, and if that was soft, well, so be it. He was who he was—he just wished he had someone to share it with.
And, moron, you’ve fallen for someone who’s frightened of everything you want.
He found Tara pacing on the far side of the lake near the setup for the fireworks. In stark contrast to earlier in the day, nothing about her looked relaxed. “Hi. You look like you need to roar again and let it all out.”
She gave him a small but rigid smile. “The fire department knows what they’re doing, right?”
