“Who’s the new guy?” I asked casually, as if I didn’t already know the answer, glancing at Mrs. Hearst, one of the managers of the golf and tennis club.
She looked up from where she was doing paperwork at a table with a large umbrella blocking out the sun and peered toward where I’d inclined my head. Easton Torres lowered a tennis ball hopper over a ball and then moved toward another, collecting it as well.
“His name is Easton Torres. He’s a seasonal employee. One who generally has a line of women trailing behind him,” she said, smiling up at me. “Why, hello, Chief Hale.”
I smiled back. “How are you, Mrs. Hearst?”
“I’m well, thank you. Why do you ask about Easton?” As though he’d heard his name—though that was impossible because the distance was too far and we were speaking quietly—he glanced up, his eyes widening as he looked between me and Mrs. Hearst. I smiled slyly, raising my water bottle. He tucked his head and hurried away, the hopper clutched in his hand, leaving numerous tennis balls uncollected on the empty court.
I tipped my drink to my mouth, giving myself time to consider how to answer her question. Mrs. Hearst was one of the few in the club who hadn’t lived in Calliope when the scandal with my mother occurred. Therefore, if she judged us, it was only because she’d heard the gossip, not because she had a personal stake in Victoria Hale’s numerous betrayals and ultimate ejection. When I’d seen her sitting alone at the table and Easton directly in view, it’d seemed a good opportunity to plant a seed or two. Just in case. I drummed my fingers idly on the brick column next to me. Tap, tap, tap. But what if I did more than plant a seed? What would happen if I told her Easton was under an unofficial investigation—which was true—that might potentially result in a scandal that brought negative scrutiny to the club—which, again, was true. Potentially. The idea knocked around in my brain momentarily. I’d have to word it just right.
A laugh drifted from the direction of the smoothie bar around the corner from where I was standing.
I’m sorry. On his behalf.
If I did word it just right, Mrs. Hearst would likely find a reason to fire Easton, that’s what. Who needed a potential scandal brought on by a temporary employee?
You can’t apologize on someone else’s behalf.
No. I know. I know that.
Of course, if Easton got fired from the club, that would affect his sister. I lifted my hand, rubbing at my eye.
What are you thinking?
I was thinking that I’m glad we’re friends.
Friends.
That particular laugh met my ears again, my train of thought regarding Easton scattering.
At least this way, with him still employed at the club, I could continue to keep my eye on him, both at work and at home. And keep him guessing. Keep him wondering.
I sighed, tossing the empty bottle in the trash. “Never mind. For a minute, I thought he was someone else.”
“Ah. Well, it’s good to see you looking so well, Chief. Have a nice rest of your day.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Hearst. You too.”
And with that, I turned away, moving toward that laugh.
“Don’t you see enough of me?” Haven asked, putting her hands on her hips as I rounded the corner.
“I’m not here for you. I’m here for the wheat germ.”
She laughed and whatever had been on my mind moments before, was suddenly gone. “Ah. The wheat germ. Likely story.”
I grinned. “Hey, friend.”
“Hey yourself. What can I delight your palate with today?”
At her words, a zing of heat shot through my midriff. A zing that didn’t exactly feel . . . friendly.
I’d been rising every morning to accompany her on her plant rounds, and we’d chatted about mundane subjects, getting to know each other on a surface level. It was nice. Peaceful. I enjoyed her company. And maybe enjoyed was too tempered a word because again, I was following her as she performed plant rounds.
All while carrying that damn cat who just happened to show up each morning just when I did. And I didn’t even like cats.
In any case, I was pretty sure Haven enjoyed my company too, and the time we spent together talking in the hush of the early morning. But . . .
Again, I needed a break from women. And she wasn’t staying in Maine anyway so it was really a moot point. Friendship was fine, but anything else was more complicated than I wanted at the moment. She leaned forward to grab something from a shelf below the counter and I caught the slight rounded swell of one breast. My mouth went momentarily dry.
Haven stilled suddenly and my eyes shot to her face, breathing out a sigh of relief when I saw that she hadn’t caught me staring down her shirt, but that she was looking behind me.
I turned to see Gage Buchanan approaching, a wide smile on his face. He took a seat. “Haven,” he said in greeting.
Her cheeks flushed, lashes fluttered. “Hi, Gage,” she said, a breathless quality to her voice that made me narrow my eyes. “What can I get for you?”
“I’ll have one of those protein shakes you made for me last week, please.” He turned slightly. “Travis.”
“Hey, Gage,” I said, my eyes still focused on Haven whose eyes were still focused on Gage. A streak of annoyance lit inside me.
“One protein shake coming right up,” she said, finally tearing her eyes away as she turned and began adding the ingredients to the blender, giving one not-so-furtive glance back at Gage. I resisted rolling my eyes.
“I hope you’re coming tonight?” Gage said, turning his stool toward me.
I searched my mind for what the hell he might be talking about, remembering some charity event invitation that I’d stuck to my fridge at home. The one I wasn’t currently living at. “Oh, is that tonight? Sorry, I totally spaced it.” I noticed Haven lean back slightly as she obviously listened to our conversation over the grinding of the blender.
“Any donation helps,” Gage said. “And we’d be honored to have the chief of police at our event.”
I felt a muscle in my jaw twitch. Gage was the only one who still invited me to crap like that. The events that I’d attended regularly, as had my mother, before she had moved away and I’d been demoted to “common citizen.” Not lakeside royalty like the Buchanan family. The fact that Gage still endeavored to include me made me feel both grateful and embarrassed. “I’ll try to make it,” I said noncommittally.
In front of us, Haven poured the blended drink into a glass, and set it in front of Gage who gave her a wide, genuine smile, held the glass up in a cheers gesture, and then took a sip. “Thanks, Haven. This is delicious.”
She noticeably swooned. For Christ’s sake. I drummed my fingers on the counter. “Anytime,” she breathed as he got up, nodded to me, and walked away.
Haven stared after him for a few moments, sighing as she leaned back against the counter.
“You too, huh?”
She looked at me, watching her with one eyebrow raised. “Me too, what?”
“One of the hordes who have a crush on Gage Buchanan. How . . . boring.”
She flung the cleaning towel over her shoulder. “Maybe. So?”
I shrugged, glancing at my fingernails, attempting a combo of bored and disappointed, when what I really felt was a strange sense of irritability. I was the one who engaged her in scintillating conversation while carting a three-legged cat around. And Gage was the one she had a crush on? Which was good, I reminded myself. Because that would be awkward seeing as I was on a break from women and would just have to let her down easy when she inevitably threw herself at me. “I thought you were more interesting than that.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be interesting. How well do you know him?”
“I’ve known him all my life. Our mothers used to be friends.” Which wasn’t exactly true. Gage’s mother had invited mine to all her social functions, and they’d run in the same circles, but they’d never been close. Because Lana Buchanan was decent, and she’d obviously figured out that Tori Hale was not. Haven studied me for a moment as if she knew there was something I wasn’t saying, but didn’t comment. I squinted at her as I considered the situation at hand. The truth of the matter was that the entire Buchanan family was decent—more than that. They were good people. And so was Haven. I sighed. “Come with me to the event his family is hosting tonight. It’s at their house, which is about three times the size of this club.”
Her breath caught, eyes widening, but she tilted her head as though hesitant to say yes for some reason.
“As friends,” I said.
“Of course,” she answered, chewing at her lip momentarily. “What should I wear?” she asked. Ah. Was that what she was worried about?
“Strategically?”
“Uh, sure, a good strategy never hurts.”
“Agreed.” I sat back, allowing my eyes to travel down her slim body and then back up. She held herself immobile as though struggling not to fidget under my perusal. “The women Gage typically date have more . . . skin,” I finally said.
“They’re in possession of more skin?”
“Hmm.” I smiled. “Much more.”
“That sounds medically alarming.”
“Very alarming,” I said, deepening my voice and adding a dreamy note. I felt the muscles around my eyes tightening subtly as I resisted laughing.
She was obviously doing the same, her eyes dancing as she stepped toward the front counter and leaned in toward me. As if we were magnetized, I involuntarily leaned toward her, inhaling the clean fragrance of her soap or shampoo or whatever delicately floral scent she wore. I wanted to lean closer, get more of it. She drew away. “Might you mean they show more skin?”
“Oh. Yes. Maybe that’s it.” I grinned teasingly, and was rewarded by the small flare of her eyes. I knew the impact of that particular grin—no female could resist it. Even one who was only a friend.
“So what you’re saying is that if I want to catch Gage’s eye, I should remove several pieces of clothing?”
“Now you’re getting it.”
She laughed, tossing her dishtowel at me. I reached up and caught it easily.
For several moments we grinned at each other across the counter. It felt good but goofy, which was odd since I was seldom goofy.
“Seriously though,” I said, ending the weird bout of goofiness. “Get his attention with some skin, and then roll out your sparkling personality.”
“Is that what you do? Flash your muscles and then roll out your sparkling personality like some grand prize on a game show?”
“I do know how to get ’em, even if I don’t always know how to keep ’em.”
She winced. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry. That was insensitive of me. I poked a fresh bruise—’
“I’m kidding, Haven. Sort of.” But speaking of bruises. I leaned forward. “How’s your brother seemed lately?”
She huffed out a small breath. “He’s all but disappeared from the inn. I think he might be sleeping in my car. He probably thinks you’re going to murder him in his sleep.”
Well, that was welcome news. “Good,” I said, sitting back. “I owe you one for not saying anything that might ease those fears.” Murder as a revenge plot wasn’t something I’d even momentarily considered, but Easton didn’t need to know that. “Come as my guest tonight.”
She studied me for a moment, obviously thinking. “Okay yes, I’ll take you up on your offer. I’d love to accompany you to Gage’s charity event.”
“Great. Be ready at seven.”
“Meet me at the bottom of the stairs,” she called after me. I was still smiling as I walked away.
