3. Colt

3

COLT

God, I was an asshole. But it had been the day from hell, and this woman was trying my last ounce of patience. The only problem was that the moment the challenge slipped free, her blue eyes flashed in a way that had me sucking in a breath.

There was no denying she was beautiful. That had been clear as day the moment I’d turned around. Long, blond hair that hung to her waist and looked bleached by the sun. She wore shorts that exposed long, tanned legs, and flip-flops revealing toes painted in an array of sparkly colors. Rainbow fucking toes and even they were cute.

Her face had the kind of symmetry that meant she could’ve just as easily graced the cover of a magazine as this cement sidewalk. But it was those eyes flashing that nearly did me in. Because there was fire in those eyes. A kind of fire that spoke of vitality and an absence of fear. That fearlessness grabbed me by the throat and wanted to pull me right in.

She tugged something out of her back pocket. A tiny wallet that looked more like a coin purse. A second later she was handing me a card. “Here you go, Officer.”

“Sheriff,” I corrected. Those blue eyes flashed again. They were a deep blue, the tones you’d find deep in the ocean, but when they flashed, it was as if they turned liquid.

“Sheriff,” she ground out.

The annoyance had me fighting a laugh as I took the offered piece of plastic. Her driver’s license, I realized. My gaze dipped. Ridley Sawyer Bennett. Twenty-seven. From Ohio. “Far from home.”

“Is that a crime?” she challenged.

And damn, I liked the way her voice transformed with it, taking on an almost sultry air. “That depends. If I run you, am I going to find any warrants I need to arrest you for?”

Her eyes didn’t flash this time; they danced. “Only one way to find out.”

Hell. The dancing was worse. I cleared my throat and handed the license back to her. “I’ll let you off with a warning. This time. Try to keep from inciting any future riots, would you?”

She snatched the license and shoved it and her wallet into her back pocket. “Can’t make any promises, Law Man.”

And with that she climbed into her van.

I couldn’t help but watch as she expertly backed out, navigating the van in a way that said she was perfectly comfortable with the vehicle, which matched the aura of the woman completely. A light, sunshiny teal, flowers laid along the dashboard, and some sort of pendant hanging from the rearview mirror.

I stayed standing there until the van completely disappeared from sight. Something about it, about her, held me to the spot until the connection was completely broken. The moment it was, my back teeth ground together. Goddamned moronic.

For all I knew, Ridley Bennett was a con woman making her way across the US by swindling grannies. I should run the license just in case. Time had given me a good memory for those combinations of letters and numbers.

Pulling out my cell, I typed the license number into my notes app. I’d look it up back at the station. Then I switched to my text app.

Me

You need anything from town? I’ll swing by your place on the way home.

Shortcake

I wouldn’t hate some coconut curry… My treat?

I stared down at the screen. She had the menu memorized by now even though she’d never once seen it in person.

Me

You got it. Banana fritters?

Shortcake

I never say no to dessert.

I checked the time and then shoved my cell back into my pocket. I had two and a half hours before the end of my shift and a mountain of paperwork I needed to catch up on, but still, I found myself wandering in the opposite direction of the station.

In a matter of minutes, I was pushing open the door of The Whiskey Barrel. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the low light of the bar. At half past two, only the diehards were present, a couple at tables and a few more at the bar.

I clapped a man on the shoulder as he stared up at a silent game on the screen in one corner of the bar. “Hey, Hal.”

He didn’t look away. “Colt. Any good trouble today?”

“Celia tried to rip a trash can out of the ground.”

Hal chuckled. “Protecting baby geese crossing the street or raging at someone for not recycling?”

“Trying to break a cat out of a car.”

That had Hal glancing my way, eyebrows raised. “That cat recover from the ordeal?”

“Thankfully she didn’t succeed.”

Hal shook his head and turned back to the game as I headed toward a man on the other side of the bar. His dark-blond hair was in its usual disarray, facial hair halfway between scruff and a beard. His gray eyes in their usual fixed position, on a worn paperback.

“What is it today?” I asked.

Trey lifted the book as he kept on reading. The title had an epic string of words that involved cults and bioterrorism. I grunted. “Real cheery reading.”

He folded the corner of the page as he finished whatever paragraph he was on. “The human mind is a fascinating place.”

“Or a terrifying one,” I said as I slid onto a stool.

“Ransom?” Trey asked, readying himself to reach for my favorite whiskey.

“Still on duty.”

He reached for a tall glass instead, filling it with ice and then reaching for a soda gun. “Who pissed in your lemonade?”

The question only made me scowl. “I didn’t say a damned thing.”

Trey slid the Coke across the bar. “Known you practically since the womb.”

That was true enough, and a couple of decades as a bartender gave him plenty of insight into people. But he’d always had that. Could take someone’s pulse in two seconds flat. It had saved both our necks more times than I could count. Just like I was sure it saved Trey’s when he took off on his bike every couple of months for parts unknown.

“Long day.”

Trey leaned against the bar, hands gripping the wood as he waited. Never in any hurry. The man had the patience of a saint.

“Mayor called. Wants me to downplay the rise in oxy arrests.”

Trey let out a low whistle.

“Carl called, demanding I arrest Joe because Joe added an Italian sandwich to his menu that is too similar to his own.”

Trey’s lips twitched. “It’s hard being a crotchety deli owner.”

“Celia called the station five times in twenty-five minutes wanting us to break a cat out of a van and nearly took the job on herself.”

The twitching turned into a full-out grin. “Would’ve liked to see that one. She’s what? One hundred pounds soaking wet?”

“She was making a go of ripping a trash can out of the ground,” I muttered.

“What happened to the cat?”

“Tater.”

“Huh?” Trey asked, confused.

“Cat’s name is Tater.”

He barked out a laugh at that. “I’m going to take it that Tater is just fine.”

“Owner came back in the nick of time. Apparently the van has an AC unit that runs independent of the engine.”

“Fancy.”

“Something like that.” Ridley’s face flashed in my mind. The way those blue eyes sparked and swirled.

“What’s that about?”

I blinked a few times, refocusing on Trey. “What?”

He drew a circle in the air around my face. “That look.”

“Nothing. Just want to look into the owner.”

Trey groaned. “Colt, not every person that passes through town is a serial killer or a terrorist.”

“I was actually leaning toward con woman if you wanted to know.”

He stilled and then a smile stretched across his face. “Woman, huh? The pieces are coming together.”

“Piss off,” I muttered.

That only made Trey grin wider. “For the love of all that’s holy, I hope she’s staying in town. You need someone to keep you on your toes.”

That was the last thing I needed. No surprises, nothing unexpected. I needed steady, predictable. And my gut told me Ridley Bennett was anything but.