Ever After (Love to the Rescue Book 3)

by Rachel Lacey

  The sheriff had asked him to keep an eye on her, and hell, Pete’s gut hadn’t exactly been reliable lately, so he’d make sure she didn’t fly anything beneath his radar. He couldn’t afford another screwup.

  * * *

  Olivia kept her cheerful smile firmly in place as she approached Deputy Sampson’s table. Sure, local law enforcement stopped in here sometimes for a cup of coffee or a meal after getting off duty. But Pete Sampson? He’d never eaten here before that she could remember.

  Today he was here and seated in her section. He was checking up on her. Well fine, because that factory was cleaner than it had been when she’d found it. She’d done her penance, and she had nothing to hide.

  “Deputy Sampson,” she said politely, “what can I get you today?”

  He looked up, his dark eyes searching her face. He was in uniform, his slacks and shirt pressed to perfection. But up close, he looked…tired. “What’s good?” he asked, then gave her a devilish smile. “How’s the chicken?”

  She pointed her pen at him. “Ha ha, very funny. I would personally recommend the eggplant parm, but I hear the chicken is very good as well.”

  “So you’re a vegetarian then.” He leaned back against the red-patterned upholstery of the booth, his eyes never leaving hers.

  “Yes, and maybe if you had checked out my website, you’d understand why.”

  “Oh, I checked it out.” His gaze was steady and intent.

  “Really?” That caught her by surprise. “And? What did you think?”

  “Very informative.” His eyes revealed nothing. They might have been discussing the weather for all he seemed to care.

  “Informative? That’s the best you can do?” If his intent had been to piss her off, he was succeeding. Big time. “You seem like a decent human being, Deputy Sampson. Did it not bother you to see those birds being abused?”

  “I didn’t say that.” He looked down at his menu. “So the chicken parm, huh?”

  “Seriously, you came here to order chicken from me?” She propped her fists on her hips and glared at him.

  “You must serve chicken here every day. Do you get this worked up about it every time?”

  He was baiting her. This had to be some kind of cop technique, and it was working because she was about to blow a lid, and he looked as calm as ever. “Do I get this worked up? No. Only when the deputy who arrested me comes in here making fun of my beliefs. Well, if you can watch those videos and not be bothered, then good for you. Enjoy your chicken parm.”

  “Did you say you got arrested?” Mr. Edgemont craned his head from the booth behind Deputy Sampson’s. The old man came in here every day for lunch and was as much of a gossip as any woman she’d ever known.

  “Yes, sir, I did.” And dammit, she really hadn’t meant to spread that information around town. Not that it wouldn’t have gotten out anyway. Working at the Main Street Café, a lot of people knew her, and someone would have seen her mug shot on the local news website and spread the word soon enough.

  Bad enough Tom already knew. This was exactly the type of scene he’d wanted to avoid. Olivia was teetering on a skinny wire right now, without a net.

  “What did you do?” Mr. Edgemont’s eyebrows were up, as if he expected her to confess something really scandalous.

  “I spray-painted the Halverson Foods chicken factory,” she told him.

  He tsk-tsked her, and her fists clenched at her sides. “Aw well, honey, you’ve gotta come around sooner or later. People eat meat.” He gestured at the remainder of his pulled pork sandwich. “You ain’t never going to change that.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” She turned her back on him to find Pete watching her, an annoying twinkle of amusement in his dark eyes.

  “Anyway, if you’re finished heckling me, I’ll go put your order in.” She tried to sound as nonchalant as he looked, but she failed. She sounded pissed.

  “Aren’t you going to ask what I want to drink?”

  Oh my God. Her eye twitched. “Of course, Deputy Sampson. What would you like to drink?”

  “You got Dr Pepper?”

  She nodded.

  “All right then. Dr Pepper, and why don’t we make it the eggplant parm?” He winked.

  Olivia’s mouth fell open. She snapped it shut and stalked off to place his order. What the hell was his deal? All that and then he ordered eggplant?

  He was entirely too obnoxious to be so good looking. She’d never actually been one of those women who lusted after a man in uniform—probably because of her dislike of authority figures—but Pete Sampson? Phew. Naughty images of him frisking her played through her mind, and her cheeks heated.

  “Psst.”

  She whipped around to find Kristi standing outside the door to the kitchen, cell phone in hand.

  “You’ve got to see this,” Kristi said.

  “See what?”

  “There’s a picture making rounds on the Internet today.” She held her phone out.

  Olivia took it, a tight fist of dread in her stomach, but it wasn’t a picture of herself she saw on Kristi’s screen. Instead, the photo showed a bunch of people wearing chicken costumes, standing beneath her botched Chicken Ass message, mooning the camera. Someone had stamped clip-art chicken tails across the image to hide their bare butts from the Internet.

  Kristi snickered, a look of pure delight on her face.

  “What the hell is this?” Olivia asked.

  Her friend shrugged. “Word is, some kind of fraternity prank. Funny, right?”

  Funny? No. Her message had become a joke. She’d been arrested and possibly messed up her future so that a bunch of college kids could pull their pants down and become Internet sensations? “Where did you find this?”

  “Anyone in town with a Facebook account has seen it. I’m surprised you hadn’t.”

  This just kept getting better. “I’ve been here since this morning. Look, I need to get back to work. Call me later, okay?”

  Kristi nodded and left with a wave.

  Olivia walked to the soda fountain machine and stood for a moment with her eyes closed. She focused on her inner peace with an “on the go” meditation technique she’d mastered, using calm, deep breaths to banish her temper and frustration.

  Then she filled Pete’s Dr Pepper and carried it to his table. “Here you go.”

  She turned to walk away, but he placed a big, warm hand over hers, his eyes suddenly serious. “The videos bothered me, okay? I am not, nor do I intend to become, a vegetarian, but I don’t like to think I’m supporting that kind of abuse when I buy my lunch.”

  So he did care. Well crap. Now she was really in trouble.

  * * *

  Pete saw surprise flicker in her eyes, covered quickly with more of that smartass temper he apparently enjoyed way too much for his own good. No other explanation for why he’d been needling her since he got here.

  Sure, he could say it was for the case. He’d been trained to read body language, and sometimes it paid to push a little, helped him get a better gut impression on whether a person was guilty or not.

  Olivia Bennett was guilty all right, but she’d made no attempt to hide it either.

  “Your meal should be out in a few minutes,” she told him, then walked off toward the kitchen.

  He turned his attention to his cell phone, scrolling through messages. His eyes caught on the most recent email: the results from his detective exam. He’d scored an 86.34.

  A thrill passed through him. Even if he was passed over for the promotion, that was a score to be proud of. This was what he’d been working toward since he was a little boy. More than a deputy, he’d wanted to become a detective. Solve crimes. Maybe even leave Dogwood behind once and for all and join a larger department somewhere else.

  Charlotte, perhaps. But he’d never leave North Carolina, not with his mom and sister living here in Dogwood.

  Sheriff Linburgh had hinted that Pete was his top choice to make detective at the end of the year, but it w
as far from a done deal. Three other deputies had tested with Pete, and there were several fine officers in the bunch. He slid his phone into his pocket, as Olivia approached with his lunch.

  “Eggplant parm, as you wish,” she said, as she placed a plate in front of him. The sandwich bulged with breaded eggplant, complimented by potato chips and a pickle wedge. The aroma made his mouth water. He’d always heard the food here was good, but he’d had his reasons for not visiting.

  Reasons he’d overlooked today for the chance to see Olivia at work.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  She didn’t immediately walk away, so he decided to take advantage of the moment and keep her talking a little longer. “So you’ve been crusading against Halverson Foods for a while.”

  She nodded. “Over a year. I’ve even been able to get some national attention. There was a pretty big stink after those undercover videos came out, but still nothing was done to stop it.”

  “Seems hard to believe.” With that kind of evidence, he would have expected charges to be filed. He made a mental note to look further into the case when he got back to the office.

  Her brown eyes gleamed with emotion. “Well it’s like you said, they’re there to be slaughtered anyway. No one cares how they’re treated beforehand.”

  All done up for work, with her makeup perfect, her blond hair long and straight over her shoulders, in black slacks and a snug pink top, she was absolutely stunning. He’d found himself attracted to her on that ladder in the sweltering sun, and today the pull was even stronger. Though he did kind of miss the shorts…

  And he admired her passion. Stupid as she’d been to spray-paint that factory, her heart was in the right place. There were far too many people in the world who were inclined to let things slide instead of taking a stand for what they believed in or what was right. Olivia Bennett was not afraid to stand up for her beliefs, even if it made her a laughingstock, and he respected that.

  “People care,” he answered her. “But we can’t enforce a law that hasn’t been written. You seem fairly eloquent about the issue. Maybe you should be addressing your lawmakers.”

  “Hmph.” She took a step back. “That’s actually a really good idea.”

  “I have my moments.” He picked up his sandwich and took a big bite.

  “Well, thanks.” She turned and walked off, giving him a backward glance that was sexy as hell. Everything about her was sexy as hell.

  And he had absolutely no business lusting after a woman he’d arrested.

  He devoured his sandwich, chips, and even the pickle, then polished off his Dr Pepper. The food was delicious. Too bad he couldn’t eat here without wanting his waitress, and she was definitely not on the menu.

  Olivia swung by and dropped off his check. He stuck a twenty on it and stood. He turned down the hall past the kitchen to visit the men’s room before he went out to his car, but halfway there, he came face to face with Tamara Hill.

  She wore the same uniform as Olivia, and she passed him without recognition. She had no way of knowing that Pete’s testimony had put a habitual drug offender back on the streets, allowing him to take the fateful drive that had cost her husband his life. Nor did she know that Pete’s own father had been the man driving that car.

  Tamara didn’t know who he was, and like a coward, Pete let her walk past, then pushed into the men’s room. He stood there at the sink, sucking in breaths over the sickening clench in his stomach. Swallowing hard, he turned away, unable to face his own reflection in the mirror. Never in a million years could he repay his debt to the Hill family.

  * * *

  “Vandalizing a building, Olivia? What in the world were you thinking?”

  Olivia winced at the rebuke in her mother’s voice. “Obviously I wasn’t.”

  Marlene Bennett sighed into the phone. “Well, thank goodness the judge was understanding. You’ve got to get the charges dismissed or you’ll never get back into McKellon.”

  Olivia’s mother was a prosecutor for the Wake County District Attorney’s Office. Her father was one of the top defense attorneys in Raleigh. They’d argued for decades over which route Olivia should take: defending the innocent or prosecuting the guilty.

  In the end, she’d decided to do neither. Two years into her studies at McKellon University School of Law, her longtime boyfriend died of an accidental overdose. Heartbroken, Olivia had taken it as a wakeup call to pursue her own happiness and quit living her life according to her parents’ expectations. So she’d dropped out of law school.

  Because truthfully, the more time she spent there, the more she wondered if she wanted to be a lawyer at all. She’d never truly fit in at McKellon. While her classmates were busy buying business suits and planning their path to partner, Olivia daydreamed about animal rights protests and meditation techniques.

  Now she waited tables at the Main Street Café. Her parents were still waiting for her to come to her senses. They’d pay for her to finish her law degree as long as she re-enrolled before she turned thirty. That meant she had to decide this year if she wanted their help.

  “I’ll get the charges dropped.” Olivia sank onto the couch and slung her feet onto the coffee table, suppressing a weary sigh.

  “Don’t you think this has gone on long enough?” her mother asked. “With your grades and your passion, you’ll be on the fast track to make partner wherever you go. Or you could join the DA’s office. You might even get to prosecute some animal abusers.”

  Olivia smiled, just a little. “But I’m not sure I want to be a lawyer.”

  “You have opportunities most people don’t. You’ve got natural talent, and your dad and I have connections to get you started. Don’t waste that. You’re obviously bored with waitressing or you wouldn’t be vandalizing buildings in your spare time.”

  Well, she was a little bored with waitressing, but that had nothing to do with the reason she’d spray-painted Halverson Foods’ chicken-processing plant. “I’m not bored.”

  “Don’t be foolish, Olivia. It’s time to get your act together before it’s too late.”

  “I will, Mom.” Olivia hung up the phone and rested her head in her hands. Everything her mother had said was true. She’d make an awesome lawyer. Except she didn’t want to be one.

  And that had to count for something, right?

  Or was she being childish? Lots of people had jobs they didn’t like. They did what they had to do to pay the bills and support their family. She could sure pay a hell of a lot more bills practicing law than waiting tables.

  Bailey, one of her foster dogs, came over and licked her cheek. She was a four-year-old fawn boxer, available for adoption through Triangle Boxer Rescue. Olivia wasn’t much of a dog person, but she’d promised to foster while she was renting Merry’s house, so Bailey and Scooby—currently sprawled out flat on the couch and snoring loudly—were hers until they found their forever homes.

  Her phone chimed a notification. It had better not be someone else tagging her in that fraternity prank picture, because if she had to see that thing one more time…

  It was a text message from her friend Cara, who’d moved to Massachusetts earlier in the year. Chicken ass? Handcuffs? Hot cops? Call me!

  Olivia snorted. If Cara still lived here, she’d have been at Olivia’s birthday celebration and probably would have talked her out of spray-painting the chicken-processing plant in the first place. She was a good friend like that.

  It’s true. I’m a convict. I’ll call you tomorrow, she texted back.

  Because right now, she was going on a kitten hunt. It had been bothering her for days that she hadn’t had a chance to look for the kitten yet, but tonight was the night. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to set foot on Halverson Foods’ property now that she’d completed her restitution by washing off her graffiti, and she had no desire to run into the employees there again.

  But she was hoping that, if she went over after they’d gone home and stayed by the road, she could lure the kitten
to her. She’d bought a can of tuna for the cause, despite the fact she didn’t eat it and the very smell was enough to make nausea rise in her throat.

  The kitten was hurt, and it was hungry, and it needed a home.

  She couldn’t just turn her back and pretend she’d never seen it.

  She put leashes on the dogs and took them for a walk, then loaded up her Prius with everything she thought she might need on her kitten-capturing expedition. She’d borrowed a cat carrier from Kristi, which she lined with a ratty old towel. That and the can of tuna were for her best-case scenario. Worst case, she had a cat-sized humane trap and a bag of kitten chow to leave behind.

  If she couldn’t catch it tonight, she’d leave the trap and check back tomorrow. With any luck, the hungry kitten would have taken the bait.

  It was just past eight, and the sky above glistened with stars. She drove cautiously out to the factory but pulled over before she reached its entrance, instead parking on the side of the road.

  She’d done her research earlier, finding where the edge of their property lay. No way was she getting caught trespassing a second time.

  She stepped out of her car and popped open the can of tuna, letting its nasty fishy smell permeate the air. “Here, kitty kitty.”

  The air around her immediately filled with flashing blue lights and the blip of a siren. A cruiser pulled in behind her Prius.

  “Christ on a cracker.” She kicked her tire. Seriously, what were the chances?

  Sure enough, Deputy Pete Sampson stepped out of the cruiser, looking every bit as crisp—and as hot—as he had at the diner earlier. He sauntered over, his expression stern. His gaze traveled over her, making her squirm.

  He tipped his head to the side. “Mind telling me what the hell you’re doing out here, fixing to break the law—with a can of tuna fish?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Pete watched her squirm. Disappointment battled curiosity as he waited for her explanation. He had to admit—he’d wanted to believe that the sheriff was wrong about her, that she would stay out of trouble and away from the Halverson plant. Yet here she was.