Wild Heart

by Kade Boehme

  “Are we really covered for extra expenses? I know there’s some of Daddy’s life insurance left. Is there enough from selling the cattle, too?”

  Jase stopped by his truck and turned to his brother. “I’ve got more savings than I know what to do with.”

  “Whoa,” Will said. “We don’t expect you to do all that, now.”

  “It’s really not a huge problem. I still had savings left from my time overseas, and I’ve lived pretty simply all these years. You’d think I was trying to take it with me, the way I’ve kept it all,” Jase said, attempting a joke, but falling flat because he was tired.

  Will seemed distressed, though. “I don’t know, Jase. I know she’s covered, but even in her right mind she won’t feel right if you spend all your money on her.”

  Jase sighed. He wondered when twenty-five had started feeling like forty-five. “Look, Will. The money has to come from somewhere. She still needs food and such. Her income before was okay, but with the ranch not making money anymore… If she needs help, I don’t mind.”

  He really didn’t. No, he wouldn’t go broke helping her out, but he knew it definitely wouldn’t come to that. He wasn’t joking about having decent savings. He was boring. Even in San Antonio he’d been a bit of a homebody. He had his apartment, his cheap beer, and his cable company’s best NFL package. If he wasn’t at home, he was working ungodly hours that they throw at rookies, then beat cops. Hell, that’s why no one had wanted to date him. Even if he was a “catch with a good job” as Mama liked to say, he didn’t have time because of that job.

  Even now, his schedule was more lax than he was used to since he was on a smaller force. But he still worked a lot.

  “We’re good, Will. One—”

  “Day at a time. Yeah, yeah.” His brother gave him one of the rare-these-days teasing grins Jase had missed these last few years. “You should get that tattooed on your ass so you don’t gotta say it all the time.”

  What could Jase say? That’s how he’d made it for so long, it seemed like the best mindset to have. It’d certainly help in this situation with their mama.

  “I’ll think about it,” Jase said, with a chuckle. “You get home to those babies. I gotta go make sure there’s enough lumber to build those ramps.”

  “You need help with that?” Will seemed honestly willing to help, which surprised Jase.

  “Nah. It’ll give me something to do.”

  Will was never going to comment on Jase’s social life—or lack thereof—because that brought up awkward shit for both of them, so he gave another of his nods and made his way to his own truck.

  ****

  Jase jumped in his truck and pulled his phone out, blissfully happy there were no messages or calls; there were no emergencies to handle or fires to put out.

  It was late enough, and Jase was tired enough that he didn’t want to do anything but go home, eat, and drop into bed. He decided to pull through the little barbecue joint on the way out of town and grab dinner so he didn’t have to cook. A pulled pork sandwich with a beer nightcap sounded like a damn fine way to end a long day. Bachelor’s delight, tonight.

  After driving over and placing his order, he was told to have a seat to wait, so he pulled up at the end of their small bar and sipped on a proffered glass of water. He’d left his cell phone in the truck with no intentions of socializing unless he got an emergency call from the sheriff’s department. But in his month there, that hadn’t happened once, so he figured ten minutes of radio silence wouldn’t hurt anyone.

  A pretty bottle-blonde waitress, who was probably younger than Jase but looked thirty, stopped by a couple times to check on him, assuring him his food would be out shortly. Her fluttering lashes made him uncomfortable.

  Plus, his attention was more on her very male co-worker who he could see through the open door to the kitchen. Nice ass, face worth writing home about, clearly straight if you were going by the way he leered at the cute blonde waitress. Jase’s usual, then.

  “Long time no see.” A familiar feminine voice in his ear drew his attention. Lacey’s smiling face was inches from his when he turned on his stool. She took a step back, smiling. “Hey, you.”

  “Hey, Lace. What’s up?” He wondered if he was just being an egomaniac earlier when he’d assumed she was feeling more for him than he’d intended or could follow through with. She seemed back to her normal, friendly self. She was cute with her button nose and curly brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She was closer to thirty, but still looked twenty-one, even without a stitch of makeup, wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and Crocs. That’s one thing he liked about her, she was low maintenance and down to earth. She was also a good friend. Friend.

  Lacey had been one of Jase’s friends for years. They’d had an arrangement his first couple months after the Army, before he’d disappointed the whole damn word—or so they’d acted—and took the job in San Antonio instead of Hope Springs. She’d been one of Jase’s mama’s top reasons Jase shouldn’t move away. “You could marry that pretty Simpson girl. You already took up with her.” He’d caved that much back then, thinking maybe he was just not giving it a chance. Lacey had moved to San Antonio for not much longer than six months when they realized she was no more home for him than Hope Springs was any more, and they’d been better off as friends.

  That’s why he hadn’t intended this to start back up. One fucking lonely night after having been back for a few weeks, realizing he’d be stuck in Hope Springs longer than he’d intended, and he’d texted her. They’d only been meant to hang out. And they had for weeks, a few drinks here, a football game there. His reasons for hanging out with her hadn’t changed. She was like one of the guys. She was comfortable. And she was decent in the sack.

  He could blame it on loneliness, blame it on needing something to do with his frustration. All of that was selfish, and she was all heart; and he didn’t want to be the one to break it. But why should he think that? She knew he was a mess, and she’d listened to him say, ad nauseum, he wasn’t staying in the area more than the year he’d signed up with the sheriff if he could help it. And she’d already tried living in San Antonio with him once. He still hated how that’d turned out.

  “Not much. Had a late client at the salon, so I thought I’d drop in with Mallory and have a couple drinks before I head home.”

  Jase raised a brow.

  “I promise we will not drive drunk, Deputy Emery.” She gave the Girl Scout salute. He shook his head, getting an elbow nudge from her. “You eating here?”

  “Nope. Carrying out. Had a long day, and I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  He hadn’t intended for that to be innuendo, but the way her face went all smirking vixen made him realize that’s how she’d taken it. She realized he wasn’t playing into it quickly, though, as he shrugged and continued. “Thought I’d grab something to go and take it home to pass out with on the couch.”

  She laughed. “Such a guy,” she said, ruffling his hair like a child. Her friend called her so she looked over her shoulder. “Well, I best get to Mal.” She came up short before turning. “Oh, hey, you going to that shindig the Sheriff's wife is throwing this weekend?”

  “Yeah,” he drawled, took a sip of his water. She knew damned well he’d be going. Not only would it be rude as one of Sheriff Dean’s deputies not to go, but as a family friend he’d look like a jerk to beg off. And that “shindig” was to celebrate his re-election to a second term. The election was held in the summer, but it’d been too hot up ‘til now in mid-September for the big, outdoor, family fun bullshit. Jase was not thrilled about going, but he’d be there, even if just for a little while.

  “Got a date?” she asked, poking his chest with her finger. He paused and gave her a very steady look. It took her a beat but she threw up her hands. “Hey, I don’t mean a date date. We’re friends. Even if… last night.” She whispered the last two words conspiratorially. “I figured we could be each other’s arm candy. Not often I get to doll myself up.”


  Jase still looked at her evenly for a moment, studying her. “Yeah, that sounds fine.”

  “Excellent,” she said, cheerfully. “Well, I’ll see you Saturday then.”

  “Saturday.” It wouldn’t be the worst thing.

  His order was dropped on the bar in front of him by the considerably less flirty blonde waitress. Well, if he could say one good thing for Lacey, she kept the vultures from circling.

  He snatched up his bag, headed out to his truck, and thanked his lucky stars his phone was still message-free. He might actually get to sleep tonight.

  Chapter 8

  THE next morning Jase was happy to report to himself in the mirror: I slept all fucking night. And it was good. He’d come straight home and, after feeding the horses, had showered, pulled on clean boxer briefs, and fallen on the couch. He’d put on a random police procedural that held his attention, even if it wasn’t always factually correct, and pigged out on pulled pork and potato wedges. Two beers after that, he’d passed out. Even on the couch, with no blanket and all the lights on, he’d slept through nine hours by the time the alarm went off at five a.m.

  The morning feeding was fairly quick, the horses happy to see a person with food, though they hadn’t been cooperative when he was trying to muck stalls. But when he finished he still had an hour to shower, shave, dress, and drive the forty minutes to the sheriff’s department in Abernathy.

  Jase didn’t mind the commute. He’d had to do it his whole life. The perks of ranch life were not having neighbors for miles and having tons of space to fool around. Then of course you had the shit side, which required driving almost an hour to the nearest grocery store.

  Looking at the time before shifting his view and pressing the gas pedal to pull on the main highway, Jase was happy to see he might actually have a minute to grab a coffee from Starbucks. His accent might be thicker after a few years back home, but he hadn’t lost all his worldly vices in those three-and-a-half years. He still liked snobby coffee, pretty boys, and expensive jeans. Fuck anyone who had anything to say about it.

  Except the pretty boys part. The family was disappointed in him enough to not talk to him, even on their deathbeds, over his not staying home. The bisexuality thing hadn’t seemed like a fight worth having. And who needed to anyways? He’d not talked to them in forever, didn’t look like they wanted him around for more than their whipping boy for years. He hadn’t had anyone special enough to make it an issue over yet. Living so far away, not even girlfriends had done the meet-the-parents bit in years.

  Not like he’d had one important enough to either come out or meet the parents. It seemed silly to make a big announcement unless he was in a committed relationship.

  That’s what he’d like to tell himself. He’d like to think if he found someone special and that person were a man, he’d be proud to be with that person. He’d literally fought for the right to be with whomever he fell in love with, so far as he was concerned. But he’d seen the negative side of that. And he didn’t even just mean with his parents. Or Ase. He shuttered that thought real quick.

  He’d also heard some of his fellow soldiers’ families turn away same-sex partners when they found out posthumously their child—someone who’d died a hero—was gay.

  Of course, he didn’t even have a girl to be proudly in a relationship with, so the whole thought process was moot. And Lord knows the last place he’d find anyone was here. No way, no how was he getting stuck in Hope Springs or Abernathy. Because even if he was with a woman, he’d want her to know he was bisexual. He’d want her to accept that side of him. That was one reason he had liked Christa when they hooked up. She’d been cool about it. Until she hadn’t. And he had the feeling that would be exactly how it’d play out with anyone else in this area.

  Again, not something worth thinking on.

  He passed into the city limits of Abernathy and fist-pumped happily that he still had fifteen minutes to grab a coffee and drive the quarter mile to the sheriff’s department. Oh, the exciting life you lead.

  Jase was just glad they’d gotten a damn decent coffee place, even if it was a chain, in Abernathy while he was gone. They usually did get chains in Abernathy, though, it being a decent-sized college town about an hour and a half from Austin. As far as yearlong residents, it wasn’t big enough to know a lot of people in town, especially if you’d lived there your whole life. The population during the school year was much larger, but he knew most of the professors by face, if not name.

  Their university boasted one of Texas’s better basketball teams, a high-ranking teacher education program, and what many considered one of the state’s better medical programs and teaching hospitals.

  Feeling more alive between his earlier shower and getting his coffee, and slurping some down, Jase pulled into one of the parking spots designated for him and the other six deputies in their department. He walked in the back entrance with a bit of pep to his step, happy with the fact he was on time, had caffeine, had gotten a decent night’s sleep, and he’d be off for forty-eight hours in less than eight.

  “Mornin’, Deputy,” the sheriff said. Jase paused by the open office door, and waved at Sheriff Dean, who sat behind his desk, pen poised over papers in a manila folder.

  “Mornin’, sir.”

  “Big plans when you get off this afternoon?” Sheriff Dean had also served in the Army, finishing up his eight-year enlistment two years before Jase had enlisted. They were the only two in the department who’d served, other than Deputy Melissa Forrester, who’d done two years in the National Guard. It was one of the reasons the sheriff had offered him a job.

  Nepotism played a bit part of landing Jase his job if he was honest, as the sheriff and his daddy bought hay from the Emerys every year for the last thirty years. And that was in addition to the fact the Deans had been going to the same church as the Emerys since the beginning of time. He’d also written Jase often when he was in the Middle East, and Jase had appreciated that. Jase liked to think of the sheriff as a friend—maybe not a close one, but a friend—when he wasn’t just sir. “Yes, sir. Got a date with a fine bottle of Budweiser and a sexy sleigh bed for twelve uninterrupted hours of Cowboys football I’ve had DVRed since last weekend, and shut-eye.”

  “Sounds like a better date than mine,” the sheriff said.

  “I won’t tell Emily you said so,” Jase said, tipping his coffee in cheers.

  “I’d ‘preciate that.” The sheriff chuckled. “Holler if you need me. I’ve got some stuff to finish up here, then I’m off to shake babies and kiss hands.”

  “Don’t have too much fun, now.”

  Jase continued down the hall, chuckling to himself, eager to get on with the shift. He clocked in, hoping like hell there wouldn’t be any major disasters to keep him on longer than necessary, but enough work that wasn’t paperwork to make the day go by fast.

  “Mornin’, Jan.” Jase pecked a kiss to the cheek of their front desk deputy. She was old as the sheriff’s department, would proudly tell you she’d survived ten different sheriffs, and never left her chair, but she had a badge and a gun, and was still a damn good shot.

  “Mornin’, baby. No coffee for the class?” She eyed his Starbucks cup.

  “If I had, you’d have complained about me spending too much money. So hush.”

  “Don’t tell me to hush,” she said, swatting him. “So far, no dispatch calls. Miller dragged in a drunk earlier, but she’s still on the scene of the accident he caused. I left some messages on your desk. Looks like it’s gonna be a quiet one.”

  Jase groaned. “Damn. I was hoping it wouldn’t be a slow day.”

  “Welcome to the big city,” she deadpanned.

  Grumbling good-naturedly, Jase made his way to his desk, thumbing through the pink slips of paper with phone messages jotted on them. Nothing he had to take care of this early. He heard a raised voice in one of the closed offices and raised a brow at Jan who’d turned, shaking her head in exasperation.

  “That’s t
hat damn drunk. He’s been going at it all morning.”

  “Who’s got him?”

  “Nate,” she said, a pleased, if unkind, grin on her face. There was no love lost between Jan and Deputy Nathan Hall. In fact, he was the only one she didn’t call his formal shift name, Deputy Hall. He was young and dumb and had questioned her in front of detainees on his first shift, for which he’d yet to make amends in the six months since. Jase, thankfully, hadn’t been a rookie nor rude in her eyes.

  “Should I?”

  Jan shook her head. “No. It’s a shame he caused such a mess. He seems nice enough for an A-rab, but the DA will hit him hard for that DWI.”

  “Damn,” Jase said. “And watch it with the ‘Arab’ comments, Mrs. J.” Her lips thinned at the reprimand, and she turned back to her desk. She’d get over it. It was a conversation they had, to no avail, a few times. She’d even had sensitivity training. Twice.

  He heard the man’s voice raise on the other side of the closed door again and looked at it, frowning. He didn’t have any sympathy for someone who fucked up their car because they were driving under the influence. He’d seen too many times the damage it caused when they hit a person instead of a light pole. But he also hated Jan’s A-rab comment. She said the same things about “them Mexicans.” An A-rab could be anyone from a Saudi Arabian doctor from the hospital to a Pakistani exchange student. Mexicans could be a Puerto Rican grandmother from the Catholic Church across the street.

  Welcome to Small-Town, USA.

  After a bit of time, Jase had finished filing a few tickets he’d written on his last shift. The door to the interview office Nate— Deputy Hall— had shut himself off with the DUI offender clicked and opened. The man had quieted after a few minutes, probably succumbing to a hangover. Deputy Hall’s voice drifted out of the now open interview room and toward Jase.

  “Deputy Emery,” Deputy Hall said, getting Jase’s attention.