Know Me Well

by Kait Nolan

  “Obviously not that one.” It was exactly his luck that the closest he’d managed to get to Riley Gower since he came home was by nearly scaring her to death. It made repaying his debt damned hard.

  Judd radioed the all clear to dispatch. “What was that about you teaching her self defense?”

  That was a secret he’d told no one, and Liam didn’t plan to start now. Not even with one of his oldest friends.

  “There was a time once when she needed it.” A time when she’d needed a helluva lot more than that. “It was a long time ago.”

  Judd waited with that expectant cop stare he was as likely to use on the job as over the poker table, but Liam didn’t volunteer anything else.

  “I know something about putting your ass on the line for somebody who can’t defend themselves. It’s hard to let go of the sense of responsibility you feel for that person.”

  Because that hit uncomfortably close to the truth, Liam shrugged. “As she said, I’m not her keeper.”

  “You lookin’ to be?”

  “No.” There were a whole lot of reasons Liam wasn’t fit to be anybody’s keeper. But he couldn’t deny that Riley fell under the heading of unfinished business. Business that had consumed far too many of his waking—and sleeping—thoughts since he’d walked back into her world. This apartment renovation right over her head might be just the opportunity he needed to get some much needed resolution.

  “Uh huh.” One corner of Judd’s mouth quirked. “I’ve got eyes to see you noticing she’s not a kid and ears to hear around town that you haven’t said yes to any of the assorted offers of female companionship that have come your way the last six months.”

  Liam wondered how long it would take him to be replaced as one of the hottest topics of local gossip. “I would have to be dead not to notice she grew up to have a rocking body, and why does my rejection of female companionship have to have anything to do with that?”

  “Because you’re not dead, as you pointed out.”

  “Man, you were at my welcome home party. My mother fully expects me to find some woman, settle down, and start giving her grandchildren. She gets a whiff of interest in anybody, she’ll start pushing china patterns or some shit. This town is too small and too damned nosy—as you’ve just illustrated—to be anything but very careful in choosing my companionship. I haven’t even settled on a permanent job yet. I’m sure as hell not in any position to start looking for a permanent woman. And even if I was, Riley Gower is not for me.”

  So why the hell couldn’t he get her off his mind?

  “Admittedly, she’s not one of the candidates in the pool Omar’s running up at Dinner Belles, but that’s just because nobody’s thought of it.”

  “And they can just keep on not thinking of it. Everybody is doomed to disappointment if they expect me to provide fodder for the gossip mill. I am not that interesting.”

  Judd laughed. “You keep telling yourself that, buddy boy.” His radio crackled to life. He answered the dispatcher and turned for the door. “Duty calls. See you in the ring Wednesday morning?”

  “I’ll be there.” Liam bumped his fist, watched him go.

  Free of interruptions, he finished up measurements for the floor plan, made notes about which were the load bearing walls, and locked up. He circled around front, but the pharmacy was dark other than the security lights. Looked like Riley actually had gone home.

  Liam didn’t like the thought of her alone in the pharmacy this late at night. Defenseless. Or mostly. This was Wishful and the crime rate was low compared to the rest of the country. But she was still guardian of all kinds of controlled substances. What if somebody decided they wouldn’t take no for an answer? She’d had enough experience with that kind of victimization. The memory of that had him clenching his fists.

  It had been twelve years since he’d walked away from his self-appointed duty as her protector. She’d shown absolutely no indication she wanted him to resume that role, but Liam couldn’t shrug off that sense of responsibility so easily. Knowing Riley wouldn’t thank him for his concern, Liam made a mental note to check with his mom to make sure she’d upgraded the alarm system before she sold the business. If she had, well, it wouldn’t hurt to make sure the system was still up to spec. And if she hadn’t, he’d take care of it.

  Chapter 2

  The numbers blurred as Riley stared at the spreadsheet on her screen.

  Should’ve done this last night, she thought with a jaw-cracking yawn.

  That had been the plan, but everything about last night had been derailed by six feet two inches’ worth of unwelcome testosterone. She’d been more rattled by contact with Liam than she had been by the near heart attack. There’d been no way she could settle down to work on quarterly taxes after that. Unfortunately, running on four hours’ or less of sleep wasn’t helping her get those taxes done either. Not even a trip on the Good Ship Caffeine was doing much to clear her bleary eyes.

  The jangle of the shop bell drew her from the office. At the sight of Liam standing behind his mother in the open doorway, she almost ducked back inside.

  You aren’t a coward.

  So Riley stood her ground, her hand gripping the travel mug of coffee like a lifeline. When Liam went on upstairs without coming inside, her knees went weak with relief. She sagged onto the stool behind the counter, pathetically grateful not to have to face him yet. Her nerves felt raw, and she needed more time to rebuild the walls he’d shaken so badly last night.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Molly shut the door and crossed to the counter.

  Riley eyed the tell-tale green-and-ivory striped box in her hands. “If those are pastries from Sweet Magnolias, then all is forgiven.”

  “Blueberry struesel muffins.”

  Riley actually whimpered. She was supposed to be off sugar, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Retrieving a plastic knife from the back, she carefully cut one of the enormous muffins in half. It was all about moderation, right? Besides, her love of Carolanne Wheeler’s muffins should overshadow her current discomfiture.

  Molly accepted the other half. “Wynne called this morning, so I was late getting out the door.”

  For the first time since they’d graduated college, Riley was glad her best friend wasn’t living in Wishful. Until Molly’s youngest had moved off to New Orleans, she and Riley had been in each other’s pockets since kindergarten. Most of the time, Riley used work to distract herself from the missing limb sensation of not having Wynne constantly around—there was always plenty of it to keep her busy. But just now, she was relieved. Wynne would absolutely cop to the fact that something was going on between her and Liam.

  There couldn’t be anything going on when it came to Liam. That had been decided long ago. Riley would just have to find a way to get over this—Thing. And it wasn’t even a Thing. Her focusing on it was just prolonging the natural conclusion of…whatever it was. The insane attraction that had fairly knocked her on her ass at his welcome home party last December would fade in time. Exposure therapy.

  A noise from upstairs had her gaze snapping to the ceiling.

  “Liam. I should’ve called you last night to tell you I was having him do some renovations to the apartment upstairs.”

  He’d told her then.

  “It might’ve saved me the heart attack I almost had when I thought he was a burglar.”

  Molly wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “I’m sorry. He said he gave you quite a scare. What were you doing up here so late?”

  “Some stocking. Since Ruby’s out for the wedding, we’re a little behind. It wasn’t a big deal.” She wouldn’t let it be a big deal. Because it wasn’t a Thing. “What motivated you to want to renovate?”

  “It’s been just sitting there doing nothing and Liam needed a project. The only time he doesn’t seem to be restless these days is when he’s building something. Plus, income from rent up there would help offset the cost of the building mortgage, and I can give you a b
reak on the lease.”

  Riley had to fight the instinctive rejection of her kindness.

  Molly laid a hand on her arm. “Don’t fight me on this, Riley. You’ve been killing yourself to make this business work, and you could use a break from at least some of the responsibility. You have a habit of taking on more than the average person.”

  Having known her since she was five, Molly was in very good position to know exactly how much Riley had taken on over the years. That Molly could and did look out for her as she did one of her own children humbled Riley, so instead of rejecting the offer out of hand, she said, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Molly hesitated. “Have you heard from her?”

  Riley didn’t have to ask who “her” was. “Last night. She’s in California.”

  The jingling of the bell again cut off that tangent of conversation Riley put on her best customer face and turned to greet Vivian Buckley, who was trailed by Ruby Fellowes. “And how are you this fine day, Viv?”

  “Trying not to turn into Bridezilla, but I swear, my family is about to run me crazy.”

  “You’s already there, baby,” Ruby said.

  Vivian shot her aunt a dark look. “Don’t even.”

  Riley repressed a smile. “The wedding’s next weekend, right?”

  “It is. Mama’s about beside herself with the details. Because, of course, Mama Pearl Buckley can’t be satisfied with being the Goddess of Pie in this town. She can’t dare let somebody else bake the wedding cake. Never mind that Carolanne’s are amazing and we have a hundred and seventy five thousand other things to do between now and the wedding. Violet’s on a tear because she’s convinced Mama’s trying to matchmake her for the reception—and who are we kidding? It’s Mama, so of course she is. Omar and George are being Switzerland. And Ray and Carmen and their families don’t get in until middle of next week.” Vivian reached over the counter to take Riley by the wrists, a faintly crazed look in her eyes. “I’m desperate. Ruby tells me you’ve got a Chill The Heck Out kit for brides. Tucker says I’m not allowed to come back to the office or set foot in a courtroom until I get it, and I’m due in front of Judge Carpenter at three.”

  Riley said a silent prayer of thanks that she was an only child. “Deep breaths. I’ve got exactly what you need.” She gathered up the essential oils for the Stress Away kit. “So where’s Darius during all this? Can’t he take some of the heat?”

  “Gettin’ ready to leave for New Orleans for his bachelor party. I mean, at least he’s doing it this weekend instead of right before the wedding, so he’ll be recovered, but, Lord have mercy, I need all this to be over and soon.”

  “Breathe, baby girl,” Ruby ordered.

  “T minus a week and change to your honeymoon in Jamaica,” Molly reminded her.

  Riley took Vivian’s hands and rubbed a few drops of the stress away oil on the undersides of her wrists, making slow circles over her pulse points. “Just focus on the finish line of those sandy beaches and lazy ocean waves. A whole week away from work, away from family, just you and your new hubby and an all inclusive resort package.”

  Vivian closed her eyes and exhaled long and slow, some of the tension draining out of her shoulders. “I can do that. Vacation. Glorious vacation.”

  Riley continued to rub Vivian’s wrists and let the fantasy of a vacation seep into her own mind, imagined wiggling her toes in the sand and feeling salty breezes against her skin. Wouldn’t that be lovely? Not that she had anyone to share it with, but at this point a vacation of any kind would be amazing.

  “I feel better.”

  “Toldya.” Ruby crossed her arms in satisfaction.

  “What is this stuff?” Vivian picked up the bottle.

  “It’s a blend of lavender, vanilla, cedarwood, lime, and a couple of other essential oils designed to reduce your stress. Here, dab a bit more behind your ears and on the back of your neck. Like perfume.”

  “Smells wonderful.”

  “It does,” Riley agreed. Deciding she could use some too, she added a few drops to the diffuser on the counter. “No side effects, no crash, no overdosing. Just use as you need.”

  “I’ll take it! What do I owe you?”

  Riley folded Vivian’s hand around the bottle. “Not a thing. Consider it an early wedding present.”

  “Are you sure? Because this stuff is surely worth its weight in gold.”

  Delighted to share her passion for essential oils, Riley smiled. “Positive. Consider it a gateway oil. Come see me when you get back and I can introduce you to all the other zillions of things you can do with them.”

  “Deal.”

  “Come on, baby girl. We got an appointment with that florist in Lawley.” Ruby began herding her niece out the door.

  “Good luck, Viv,” Riley called.

  “See you after the wedding, Ruby,” Molly added.

  Ruby waved and shut the door behind them.

  Riley picked her coffee back up, watching the two women disappear from view. “That. That right there is why some people should just elope.”

  “Is that what you’d do?” Molly asked.

  Shrugging, Riley took her stool again. “Would depend on the guy, I guess. It’s what my parents did. But as I’ve already married the business, it’s a moot point. Anyway, I think the oils will help her if she’ll use them.”

  “I’d say that’s been a great sideline you’ve added.”

  “If somebody likes one, they usually come back for more.”

  The bell rang again as their pharmacy tech, Jessie Applewhite, strolled in. “I come bearing mail.”

  “Early for that,” Riley noted.

  “I ran into Otis as I was crossing the green. He passed it off.”

  “I’ll trade you for a muffin.” She nudged the box toward Jessie.

  Jessie handed over the bills—because what else would they ever get here at the business?—and pounced on the baked goods. As more customers came in, Riley passed that duty off to Molly and retreated into the office to see what the damage was.

  She did the math, feeling anxiety creep up as she compared the total of the bills and the balance of the business account. Payroll was due next week. She checked the due dates on the bills and started figuring how well she could manage her personal accounts to take a pay cut so everyone else could get paid in-full and on-time.

  Molly stuck her head into the office. “Everything good?”

  Riley offered a sunny smile as she shoved the bills into a drawer and closed the balance sheet on the computer. “Everything’s just fine.”

  ~*~

  Liam’s fist connected with Judd’s chin. The impact sang all the way up his arm. He checked his instinct to immediately press the advantage, hesitating long enough for his friend to stumble back toward the ropes and shake off the blow. A friendly sparring match wasn’t the battlefield he’d lived on for more than a decade. This was all about exercise. And a little bit of payback for his torture about Riley.

  From outside the ring, Reuben Blanchard shouted, “Keep your hands up, Hamilton! Montgomery’s a sneaky son of a bitch. You’ve gotta protect your head.”

  Judd had barely reset his stance and lifted his gloved hands when Liam lunged forward, driving him back. Judd bounced off the ropes and ducked under Liam’s jab, but not before catching a second body shot to the ribs.

  “Break!” Reuben shouted.

  Liam tugged off a glove and spit out his mouth guard. “What is up with you, man? Your head is not in the ring.”

  Judd slid down to a stool in the corner. “Lot on my mind. They finally opened the search for the new Chief of Police.”

  “Yeah?” Liam tugged off his other glove. “Bet Chief Curry’s happy about that. Didn’t he announce he was ready to retire back in January?”

  “Yep. I’m gonna throw my hat in.”

  Reuben climbed through the ropes and handed both of them bottles of water. “You got much competition?”

  “Locally, no. But they’re openi
ng it up to a nationwide search. I don’t know how much of a shot I’ve got. They’ll probably go with somebody older, more experienced. But pulling somebody in from outside…no guarantee they’ll stay for the long haul. So that’s in my favor. We’ll see.”

  Liam envied him. It might be a long shot, but at least Judd had a vision for his future, for what he wanted to do with his life. That was more than Liam himself had managed since he left the Marines.

  “Good for you, man. I’ll be rooting for you.”

  Judd offered his fist. “Hey, if I get it, that’ll leave a hole open in the department. You could always trade your desert camo for blue. You’d make a helluva cop.”

  Reuben snorted. “SWAT maybe. Not local PD.”

  Liam bumped the offered fist. “He’s right. I’d be bored out of my mind. Rematch soon?”

  “You know it. And next time you won’t get in so many lucky shots.”

  “Lucky my ass.”

  Judd grinned. “See y’all at poker night.”

  “We look forward to taking your money,” Reuben assured him.

  As Judd disappeared into the locker room, Liam climbed out of the ring. He considered putting in some time on the speed bag to get his heart rate up.

  “I’ll go a few rounds if you want,” Reuben offered. “Or listen. Either way, somethin’s gnawing at you.”

  “Not sure either would actually help.”

  “You sleepin’?”

  “Mostly.” He hadn’t been afflicted by the night terrors and flashbacks that plagued many of his comrades. “Can’t shake the habit of rising at zero dark thirty.”

  “That’s not what has you in here every morning. Or not all of it.”

  Liam stuffed his gloves into his gym bag. “How long did it take you to settle in to civilian life when you got out?”

  “Didn’t settle until I started up this place.” A former Navy SEAL, Reuben had returned to Wishful five years earlier and opened the boxing gym. “But I knew exactly what I wanted when I got out. Your situation’s a little different.”

  “Yeah.”

  Liam had enlisted in the Marines the summer after graduating high school and never looked back. If not for his father’s unexpected death, he would’ve been a lifer. But as the eldest, with both his brothers deployed and his baby sister moved off to New Orleans, Liam couldn’t see leaving his mother alone. So he’d come home.