The cop’s expression soured and he began to scribble in his notebook. “Interesting.”
A dozen swear words bubbled up inside of me as the cop finally shifted his gaze toward me. I’d hoped with this near-death experience, everyone would forget about the tag. No deal. The cop pulled a flashlight from his belt and shined it directly in my eyes. I used my hand to shield it off my face, which made him direct the light at my arm.
“And what’s this here?” He bent down closer to me, his free hand resting on his gun. “Looks like specks of red paint. Got a good explanation for this, son?”
There was that dread again, returning to my stomach like molten lead. Still, I smirked up at him, refusing to play his game. “That’s not paint. That’s blood.”
“Really?” He snatched my other arm and took a look at the free-flowing blood from the rose bush pricks. “That here looks like blood. This looks like spray paint. I’ll bet if we take a look around those bushes, I’ll find a can with your fingerprints on it.”
I gritted my teeth, refusing to answer any more questions. Game over. With a mighty tug, he pulled me to a standing position and placed a firm hand on my shoulder.
“Looks like you’ll be spending the night at the station,” he growled.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I gestured at my artwork. This was so uncool. “Dude, it’s just a freaking hunk of wood. You can power wash it or paint over it.”
“No, you can wash it. Just as soon as Ken comes to collect you in the morning.”
He directed me toward his car, parked on the corner. I glared over at Cassidy, trying as hard as I could to make myself regret the decision to help her tonight. She met my stare head on, her jaw muscles stubbornly tight. I should’ve known she wouldn’t hesitate to turn me in. Not even after I’d saved her life. Still, there might have been a flash of some kind of sympathy in her eyes as I glared at her. I couldn’t really be sure. But she stood there silently, watching as the cop marched me toward his car and opened the back door.
The feel of his hand on the top of my head as he guided me into the seat made me lose my cool. I kicked at the divider wall between me and the front seat. “You know, this is total bull—”
The slam of the door cut off my angry words.
“Don’t do the crime, if you don’t want to do the time, son.” The cop slid into the front seat with a hearty chuckle. He leaned out the window and smiled at Cassidy. “Need a ride home, darling?”
She shook her head, more strands of hair coming loose from her braids. “Nah, I’m okay walking home. Thanks, Trip.”
Trip started the engine as I sunk farther into the backseat, feeling my disgust for this small town grow even more. It was like a black hole, sucking me back in every time I even considered leaving. At this rate, I’d never get home.
And as I watched out the window, my gaze met with Cassidy’s. She stood on the sidewalk, not even flinching as my eyes bore into hers. If it had been any other day, I would’ve been impressed by her spine. Instead, I tore my gaze away and stared hard at the metal grate in front of me.
I’d had one chance to get out of here and I threw it away on a girl who didn’t even care.
It figured. Once an Oakie cowboy, always an Oakie.
No one cared about an Oakie...
...if they knew what was good for them.
Chapter Two
Cassidy
That beat-up black bag was haunting me.
I stared at the thing, as it sat in the corner of my tiny ten-by-ten foot room, unable to escape the judginess emanating from its rough and ragged cloth edges. A Pink Floyd patch was attached to the top. White-out had been used to trace a handprint on the other side. Inside it, were all kinds of unknown treasures just begging to be rifled through.
“If you don’t expect others to respect your privacy, you can’t expect them to respect yours,” I lectured myself as I chewed on the top of a pink gel pen.
“What’d you say?” My best friend Hannah Nolan’s voice came through the speaker on my phone, along with the buzz of background noise. “My parents are fighting again. I couldn’t hear you. I swear, one of these days I’m going to slip out the back door and never come back. I can’t stand this place anymore.”
“Oh, it was nothing. Just me thinking out loud. And when you run away, you better come stay here.”
Hannah’s parents were always fighting. That was why she spent most of her time at my house. Her stepdad had his own law firm and was a hulk of a man with an equally bad temper. Dad didn’t like him. Neither did I. Daddy could spot a bad apple from a mile away. Part of me couldn’t help wondering what he would’ve thought of the owner of that backpack...
I averted my gaze from the distracting thing in the corner of my room to look down at the piece of paper I’d printed off tonight and tabbed at the bottom. It was a flyer requesting someone to take Hank’s place as my cameraman. I’d already posted requests all over social media and this was my last-ditch effort to find someone to help carry my project.
“Are you sure you can’t run my camera for me, Han?” I asked, desperation leaking into my voice. “I promise, it’s not that hard. All you have to do is aim and shoot and make sure the microphones are picking up the sound.”
She giggled. “Uh, no way. You know me and technology don’t work together. That’s why I’m stuck with this ancient flip phone. My last three phones broke.”
“Right.”
It was true. Hannah and technology were practically mortal enemies. No luck there. I sighed and found myself once again looking over at that ridiculous backpack.
The boy from the park—the one with the worn jeans, stained brown t-shirt, and muscular arms that had plucked me from the road as if I weighed nothing more than a sheet of paper—had left it there in the street. I’d stumbled on it moments after he’d been driven away in the back of Trip’s police car, looking like he could’ve punched a hole in a wall. The backpack was now a constant reminder that I’d turned in the boy who’d, just moments before, saved my life.
What kind of person did that?
Blame it on my emotions at the time. Seeing the park vandalized was pretty horrible, considering how much it meant to me. Still, that gnawing feeling of guilt in the pit of my stomach just wasn’t giving up. I’d never get any sleep tonight if I didn’t do something about it. And obviously, my project was going to have to wait.
Groaning out in frustration, I turned back to the phone. “I got to go, Hannah. There’s something I’ve got to do.”
“Put on your cape and save the world yet again?” she asked with another giggle.
“Something like that.” I smiled fondly at her name on the screen. “See you tomorrow at school?”
“Definitely.”
After ending the call, I stood up with my flyer in hand, and marched toward the backpack. It was heavy. Like, filled with ten bricks kind of heavy. Flinging it over my shoulders, I made my way to the garage and pulled out a couple Smart meals stashed in the back of the deep freeze. Daddy was probably going to rely on some leftover stale bagels and cookies in the break room to get him by during his overnight shift. I might as well bring him a decent meal while I was at it and make sure that he took care of himself.
Five years ago, that job had been passed on to me.
The station was only a seven minute walk from home. No need to change out of my Wonder Woman pajama set. I’d be back in a few. Practically everything in Blue River was within walking distance. The bank, the grocery store, the school. In a town with less than ten thousand people, that was to be expected. We liked it that way. Safe and familiar. No surprises.
Except, tonight had been a surprise. First, with Hank’s video call. Hank was my cameraman for a huge blog piece we’d been putting together. He was the only guy at school who knew how to work all the tech from the AV closet and the only one willing to trek along with me on my insane projects. Of course, that was before he’d broken his leg in two places last night during his attempt to
impress the girls on the cheerleading squad. If I’d known he was that desperate, I would’ve hooked him up with an inside source.
And then surprise number two was finding the spray-painted message on the gazebo. That had come as a shock straight to the gut. Only someone with extreme issues would vandalize that precious park, trample the rose bushes, and then refuse to face up to the consequences.
And finally—the car that nearly mowed me down and the boy who’d saved me.
How could a girl make sense of it all?
Pushing those thoughts out of my head, I bounced into the station and waved. “Hi, Lettie!”
The round woman sitting behind the desk had been working as Blue River’s nighttime dispatcher for nearly my entire life. Lettie had a warm smile, flawless makeup skills, and thinning brown hair that she pulled back into a severe bun at the base of her skull. The light on her bluetooth set indicated that she was already on a call. She waved a hand full of antique rings at me and then went back to concentrating on the caller.
I could’ve walked through the station with my eyes blindfolded. Every desk, every chair was in the same spot it had been since I was a child. Not a single trash can was out of place. My dad ran a tight ship. He expected his deputies to do the same.
All six desks in the main office stood empty, which wasn’t unusual for a Sunday night. Dad’s office sat dark in the rear. He was probably out on a drive. Sitting around didn’t suit him much. I dropped off his meals in the break room freezer and then made my way to the back room where the holding cells were kept.
Blue River was about as boring as a town could be, which meant it wasn’t very often that our cells were occupied. Usually, the only people in here were the ones who’d gotten a little too rowdy at the bars downtown. Tonight, only one was taken.
I stopped just outside the door and peered through the glass-paned window at the boy I’d met at the park. He sat slumped on the floor, his lanky body leaning against the sterile white wall, looking like a farmhand who’d just finished a long day’s work and was too exhausted to move to the metal bench on his left. One leg was draped over the other and his boots clacked together in a slow rhythm as he scowled at them. There was a sun-kissed glow to his skin and a handful of freckles along his bare, muscular arms. His shaggy jet-black hair fell slightly onto his forehead, above a pair of strikingly dark eyebrows.
I knew him from school, although we’d never spoken. Graham McGrady didn’t exactly run in the same crowds as me. And all the classes we did share, he usually sat in the back row, sleeping through the lectures or occasionally making wise cracks. He was an Oakie—a kid sent to live on the Sweet Oak Teen Ranch just on the outskirts of town. One of the many who’d rotated in and out of Ken and Mary White’s home for troubled kids over the years. I’d taken riding lessons there as a middle schooler, but it had been ages since I’d been back.
This was the boy that had marred my precious gazebo.
And the same one that had saved me from that reckless driver.
I wasn’t sure what to expect.
Pushing through the door, I watched Graham’s chin snap up and his gaze land solidly on me. His eyes slid down my body, taking in my Wonder Woman pajamas, my pink flip flops, and then shot back up to my face. His brow furrowed in confusion for only a moment before he was able to put the disinterested poker face back on.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, returning to the business of clacking his boots together. “Gonna turn me in for another crime I didn’t commit?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. If I could say anything about the boy, at least he stuck to his story, no matter how ridiculous it was. “Nope. Just returning something of yours. I believe you left this at the scene of the crime.”
Dropping the backpack on the single metal desk that sat at the opposite end of the room from the cells, I stood back and watched for Graham’s reaction. He pushed himself off the ground and came toward the metal bars, grasping two of them so tightly his knuckles grew white.
“You didn’t look inside, did you?” he asked, his voice gruff.
So much for a thank you. I should’ve expected that.
I put my hands on my hips and stared him down. “No...why?”
He shrugged, once again looking totally indifferent to my very existence. The guy was good at that. “No reason.”
“Are there drugs in there?”
The tips of his ears turned red and frustration flared in his eyes. “No. It’s just none of your business. I don’t like people touching my stuff.”
“Right.” I fiddled with the strap on the backpack and then took a step toward him, willing myself to play nice. He was just a kid, like me. Maybe he needed someone to reach out a hand. To be the first to offer him some kindness. “You’re Graham, right?”
Distrust formed in his eyes, like dark rain clouds. He leaned casually against the bars and smirked at me. “Why? Who’s asking?”
“Me. I’m asking. You’re in my English class.”
He looked down at his cleanly cut nails. “Maybe.”
“And you live at the ranch?”
His eyes didn’t stray from his nails, but I didn’t miss that second flash of frustration that passed over them before he pressed his lips tightly together. “Hmm.”
I stood there, the silence between us stretching into total awkwardness. Apparently, Graham didn’t have a need for kindness from me. Or a friendly hand. Which didn’t make sense, as I wasn’t the one on the wrong side of those cell bars. If I were him, I would’ve been on my knees, apologizing for everything bad I’d done in my entire life until they let me out. Instead, Graham stood there as careless as could be, totally ignorant to the pain he’d caused tonight. The reminder of it made me tense up with anger.
Why did he think he could get away with this?
“Well, it was nice talking to you.” I waved my hand, trying to dispel the negative energy in the room. If he didn’t want to apologize, that was fine. No skin off my back. “I just wanted to give you back your bag. I’m honestly not sure why I even bothered.”
“Me, neither,” he grumbled through gritted teeth.
Ugh—I wanted to reach through the bars and shake him until that disinterest fell off of his face. Instead, I smoothed down my pajama top and exhaled purposefully before replying. “But before I leave, I just have to say one thing. What you did tonight wasn’t cool. At all.”
His brow arched and then his gaze bore into mine. “You mean, save your life, Cassidy?”
A shiver went through me, totally unprovoked. I hadn’t realized he knew my name. It sounded strange coming out of his mouth. I felt trapped by his stare, unable to look away.
For the first time tonight, I couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were a deceivingly beautiful shade of brown, with an amber tinted ring surrounding the irises. Almost like a lion’s. He blinked, dark lashes perfectly framing his eyes. I opened my mouth to speak, but felt it flop uselessly open and shut a few times before I could break the strange spell he’d put on me.
“N-n-no,” I stammered, taking a step back. “I meant vandalizing my gazebo. That wasn’t cool.”
A cocky disbelieving grin formed on his lips. “Your gazebo? Well if I’d known it was your gazebo, your majesty, I would’ve picked a different one. So sorry.”
He was mocking me now. The sensation caused prickles of annoyance to run up and down my back. I harrumphed and tossed my hair over my shoulder, totally finished with this conversation. And with Graham.
“Actually, if you want to be specific, it’s my mom’s gazebo.”
He rolled his amber eyes. “Well, you can tell her it got an upgrade. In my opinion, it looks much better now.”
Anger hardened my jaw and I felt my nostrils flare. Dad often said my temper was going to get the best of me. But right now, I didn’t care.
“I can’t,” I snapped. “She’s dead.”
For the first time tonight, I saw the mask truly slip from his face. Gone was the cockiness and the fake
disinterest. He stared wide-eyed at me, regret flashing behind his irises. Despite the fresh pain rearing its ugly head in my heart, deep down, I appreciated that Graham wasn’t totally unmoved by my announcement. Apparently, he had a heart after all.
Swallowing hard, he grimaced and then moved his hands slowly up the bars until his forehead leaned against them. “I didn’t know.”
I nodded, then looked down at my feet, feeling the unwelcome sensation of tears forming in my eyes. It always happened when I talked about her. Five years later and I still got choked up. “The town built the park and gazebo as a memorial to her. She was the cop that got hit by a car during a routine traffic stop.”
The memories and emotions of that time rushed through me. Everything from the moment we got the call, to the day we buried her in the ground. It was like someone had stuck their hand into my chest and stirred about my internal organs. I clenched my teeth, waiting for the sensation to go away. With time, it always did. I just had to wait it out.
Graham cleared his throat and shifted his feet. “If I’d known...”
I looked back up at him with a watery smile and laughed. “You’d have vandalized someone else’s property?”
The right side of his mouth lifted slightly. “Yeah, probably.”
Laughing again, I retreated to the desk and pushed myself up to sit on top of it. It felt like a safe distance to put between myself and the emotions Graham had unexpectedly brought up. Guess that was about as much of an apology as I could expect from one of the cowboys from the ranch. I studied Graham from my safe place and he studied me, both of us probably trying to figure the other one out.
Were all Oakie boys like him? Did they all have giant signs on their forehead, signaling major trouble for anyone who dared get involved in their lives? I couldn’t be sure. To be honest, I’d never paid much attention to what went on over at the ranch. And this year, I’d been too involved in this special project with Hank to care about anything else.
“So...any chance you can get me out of here?” he asked in a noncommittal tone. Tapping his toe against the bar, he looked up at me and furrowed his brow. “I mean, I did kind of save your life. Seems fair.”
Cowboy Crush : A Small Town, Enemies-to-Lovers YA Romance (Sweet Oak Teen Ranch Book 1) Page 2
