Chapter 12
A
t about eight o'clock, Brady heard a truck motor down the driveway. He could tell from the sound of the tires that it wasn't Sloane. Hers were studded for better traction on ice. Rhys put them on all the police rigs in winter.
He got off the couch and looked outside the window to see Colin hefting a rocking chair out of the bed, and opened the door.
“You need some help?”
“I've got it. How you doing, Brady?”
“Can't complain. Sloane buy a rocker?”
“Yep. She got called out, so I'm bringing it home for her.” Colin tilted his head at the sky.
“I think it'll be safe on the porch until she gets home.”
“Isn't it for the porch?”
“She said she might like to put it inside.”
“Why don't I keep it in here for her until she gets home.” For a man who was trying to maintain a little distance, he seemed to be looking for every opportunity to get closer. When she hadn't shown up for lunch today at the inn, he'd been sorely tempted to march over to the police station to make sure she'd eaten.
“Sounds like a plan.” Colin carried it in and set it down next to Brady's sofa. “Smells good in here.”
“I just baked a couple of breads. You want one?”
“Sure.”
Brady went into the kitchen and wrapped one of the loaves in foil. Colin followed him in.
“Your place could use some furniture.” His lips curved up into a smile. “I know where you can get some.”
“I'll get around to it eventually.” Brady had always liked traveling lightânothing to hold him down. “You want a beer?”
“Nah, I've gotta get home to Harlee. One of the few nights she's home early from the
Trib
.”
Brady thought Colin and Harlee had a good thing going. He'd catered their wedding and the two of them had struck him as a couple that would stick. He knew Colin had some phobias he was working through, particularly a fear of crowds. But it seemed that the furniture maker showed up more and more at the Ponderosa, so maybe he'd licked it.
“You know what Sloane got called out on?”
“Nope, just that Wyatt needed backup. But you can be sure my wife has her ear to the ground. That's why I've got to get home. Otherwise she'll go out sniffing after the story.”
That made Brady chuckle. Yeah, they were a nice couple. “See you later, Colin.”
“Thanks for the bread.” Colin saluted him with the loaf.
After he left, Brady got a little anxious. Nugget was a safe town, but bad things happened everywhere. Hell, just a couple of months ago the town had a big drug bust and murder on Lucky's ranch. Crazy thing.
He stayed up past eleven waiting. Then decided to drive to the police station to see what was doing. That's when he saw headlights through his living room window and heard those studded tires coming down the road. His stomach settled with relief and he met her on the porch.
“Everything okay?”
She appeared surprised to see him. “Ruben Cottsfield got drunk and knocked his wife around. She wouldn't press charges, so we waited until he sobered up and left.”
“I'm sorry.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Me too, because he'll eventually put her in the hospital, and as long as she refuses help, there isn't a damn thing we can do about it.”
“It sucks.”
“It sucks. Brady, how come you didn't tell me you were the executive chef at Pig and Tangelo when I told you it was one of my favorite restaurants?”
He let out a breath. “It's cold out here. Come inside.”
“I'm dead on my feet and need a hot shower.”
“I'll tell you what, you go do what you need to do and I'll bring over your new rocking chair. Colin left it in my place. If you're not too tired after your bath, we'll talk. In the meantime I'll make you some herbal tea.”
“All right. Just as long as we're not having a relationship.” She enunciated “relationship” and rolled her eyes, then took that cute butt of hers inside.
Brady got the chair, lugged it over to her place, and put it in the living room. She could decide where she wanted it and he'd move it for her. He went back to his place and grabbed an assortment of teas and one of his loaves of bread before commandeering her kitchen. At least she had a kettle. He put some water up to boil and checked out her fridge for a beer. She didn't have any, so he went back to his place and grabbed a couple bottles.
By the time he got back, the water had stopped running. When she finally came out of the bathroom she had a towel wrapped around her head and wore a pair of drawstring pants and a clingy little long-sleeve tee.
“I just have to dry my hair,” she said, and went back inside the bathroom.
Brady sat in the living room amid her frilly pillows, drinking his beer. Colin's rocker kind of fit in, he noted. But he thought the whole point was having something on the porch. She could sit on his, he supposed. Or the swing.
Sloane came into the living room, her blond hair down around her shoulders, and plopped next to him on the couch. Brady got to his feet, went in the kitchen, fixed her tea, and put a few slices of bread on a plate.
“Here you go.” He put it down on the coffee table in front of her.
She wrapped her hands around the mug and took a sip. “This is perfect. Thank you. So, Pig and Tangelo, huh?”
“Yep. I don't tell too many people about it for fear that it'll get back to psycho Sandra.”
Sloane laughed. “Is that what you call her?”
“That and a whole bunch of other things.”
“So you only met her that one night and she went
Fatal Attraction
on you?”
“She came into the bar about an hour before the restaurant stopped serving. After a big night I'd hang out a while, have a drink, and schmooze with the bartenders. She was sitting a couple of stools down from me. A few guys tried to hit on her, but she wasn't interested. Somehow it came up that I was the executive chef. She scooted next to me, we talked food for about an hour, then the conversation got more flirtatious. We wound up going back to her place. I left her a nice note at around four in the morning and went home. By nine she was banging on my door.”
“How'd she get your address?”
“When we'd left the bar she was tipsy, so I drove. My checkbook was in the van. She must've looked at it. We both only lived a few blocks away from the restaurant.”
“What did she want?”
“I'd mentioned at the bar that I had the next day off. She said that we'd made plans to spend it together, which I never had. And she just went off. I told her she was coming on too strong. She cried, but finally went home, and I thought that was that. No such luck. By about eleven that night she comes banging on my door again, shouting that I'm an a-hole and that she's in love with me.” He scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Sloane, we spent four hours together, max. Hell, I didn't even know her last name and I never gave her mine. It was just supposed to be a casual hookup. Never once that night did we veer into the land of a love connection. The whole thing's insane.”
“From everything Rinek told me, this woman sounds nuts . . . It's her mental state that has me worried. Why didn't you change your name?”
He got up and went for that second beer. “You want something?”
“I'm good. The bread is out of this world, by the way.”
Brady came back and took his place back on the couch. “I didn't change it because I shouldn't have to. She ruined my life . . . made me leave a great job, my friends, the beach. I'd be damned if I changed my identity too. If she wants to come here and mess with me . . . well then, bring it on. But I won't risk having her mess with you. What's going on with your issues?”
“Nothing.” Sloane shook her head. “That picture of Sweeney was the last thing I got. Maybe they're over it.”
“You'll still tell Rhys, right?”
“I'll tell him. I'll also be telling him about Sandra. Because, Brady, from the stuff I saw on Facebook, she's still obsessed with you. If she ever finds out where you are, she'll show up here. Rinek thinks she's capable of violence.”
“She sure did a number on my apartment and restaurant. She clearly has a criminal mind, 'cause she never left so much as a fingerprint.” He turned to Sloane and held her face in his hands. “So you understand why I'm worried about you . . . about us being together?”
“I think you should let me worry about myself.”
“Not in my DNA.” But he wanted her. He wanted her so much it hurt. She was different from any woman he'd ever known. Confident, tough, compassionate, and even a little vulnerable. A combination he couldn't resist.
“I'm realizing that about you.” Sloane yawned. “I've gotta go to bed, Brady. Tomorrow I'm playing chief again and need to be at the station at the crack of dawn.”
He gathered up his empties, walked into her kitchen, tossed them in the recycling bin, and headed out. “Lock up after me.”
Halfway to the door he turned around, came back to where she was standing, and kissed her long and hard. She twined her arms around his neck, pressed against him, and he nearly lost his mind.
Time to go
, he told himself, but his body had trouble taking direction. Finally, he peeled himself away.
“Sleep tight, Sloane.”
Â
Saturday morning, Griffin went to the square for breakfast. He couldn't decide on sit-down at the Ponderosa or an egg sandwich to go from the Bun Boy. Seeing as he didn't have anywhere to be, he started to lean toward Tater's chicken-fried steak and potatoes. Griff had always liked lingering over the first meal of the day.
But as he walked to the Ponderosa he ran into Samantha Breyer, who coaxed him into having breakfast at the Lumber Baron.
“Brady made cinnamon-roll French toast that's off the hook,” she said, shifting a grocery bag in her arms. “There's plenty extra.”
“Here, I'll take that.” He grabbed the bag from her and followed her into the inn.
Of course none other than Lina manned the front desk. She had on a purple sweater that made his eyes pop out of his head. “Hey, Lina.”
“Hey, Griff.” The phone rang and she immediately grabbed it.
He continued to trail Sam into the kitchen and put the sack down on the stainless-steel counter. For an industrial kitchen, the place felt warm, like a place for a big family to gather. Copper pots hung from a rack over the center island and gleaming white cabinets with glass fronts showed off the ironstone dishes inside.
Sam unloaded a couple of cartons of half-and-half, a jug of milk, and one of those squeeze-bear honeys.
Brady held the bear up to Sam. “You're kidding me, right?”
“I thought it was cute.”
“Don't let Nate see it. He's liable to think you're in cahoots with those Beary Quaint idiots, the Addisons.”
She laughed. “Oh God, I didn't even think of that.”
“Hey, Griff, you want some breakfast?”
Brady didn't wait for an answer, just loaded up a plate and slid it down the center island for Griffin to take a seat. Maple syrup and butter magically appeared.
“You want coffee?” Griffin nodded, and Brady poured him a cup. First-class service.
“Here's some cream.” Sam opened one of the new cartons and put the rest in the big industrial refrigerator.
“What about the guests?”
“They were up and at 'em an hour ago,” Brady told Griff. “We're free until noon, when the Baker's Dozen gets here.”
“I thought you met the second Saturday of every month,” Sam said.
“We changed the date on account of next Saturday being Jake and Cecilia's wedding.”
“Holy hell, this is good.” Griff shoveled another forkful of the battered cinnamon roll into his mouth.
“I like to call it diabetes on a plate. Let me know when you want seconds. Sam, tell Lina to come get herself some breakfast.”
Sam returned with Lina a few minutes later. Lina barely looked at Griff.
“Not so much, Brady.” Brady pushed half her serving onto a second plate.
“Anyone hear from Rhys and Maddy?” Griffin asked.
All heads turned to Lina.
“They're having a good time. They went to Alcatraz yesterday.”
“Cool,” Griffin said. “I've never been. Have you, Lina?”
“No. I never got around to it while I lived there. I guess I thought it was too touristy.” She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin, all dainty like.
Griff remembered when she used to wolf down Bun Boy burgers like a truck driver. It used to crack him up. Her being such a petite thing.
“I've been by a couple of times to see Emma and my mother-in-law,” Sam said. “Looks like they're doing fine.”
“I think between Maddy and Rhys they've called seven thousand times.” Lina got up to pour herself a cup of coffee.
Nate joined them and Brady loaded him up with French toast. He found a seat next to Sam and doused his plate in syrup.
“It's already pretty sweet there, buddy.” Brady took the syrup away from him, and Sam laughed.
“What are you laughing at?” Nate kissed her with syrup all over his lips. “Damn, this is good. Why aren't you cooking for all my hotels?”
“Because I only have two hands.” Nate started on another batch.
“Who are those for?” Nate asked.
“Sloane's coming over. Why, you want more?”