CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN Hunter

F riday evenings were quiet in town. I was still at the station and thinking of calling it a week. The townsfolk would be deciding on dinner at Jill's, or whether to call it a day and head home. A few high schoolers, beginning their summer season, cruised Main Street like kids in small towns tended to do. Many of the rural folks would return later for Trivia night at Smitty's, and odds were I'd see them there.

Jill fancied herself the queen of trivia and insisted I be her partner as a way to get me out of my house. I'd resisted at first but eventually gave in and enjoyed the comradery of our team and the other folks who attended. Not to mention a few beers, as well as cutting loose with friends, was a nice activity after a long week of work. Not that cutting loose was something I was known for. We hadn't lost a Friday night trivia gathering for four straight months now.

After becoming sheriff, I'd promoted one of the other deputies, Cass Johnson, to lead the crew of three and then hired a kid fresh out of the academy from Idaho. The new kid's name was Lucah Michaelsen, and he was proving to be a great young man and a quick learner.

I'd begun taking weekends off six months prior, even though I had no life or desire to be home. The lawn and flowers were untouched since Mark died and working on the interior of the house seemed futile since I'd lost all interest in it as a home. The 1980s rambler was simply a roof over my head and a place to sleep as I wandered aimlessly through life.

"I'm just about outta here, Cass," I yelled from my office. "I'll do a loop and then you're in charge, Deputy."

One of us in the Sheriff's department did ‘ the loop' every four hours, twenty-four hours a day. The loop consisted of a patrol route where we performed a local safety check and looked for any issues around our small town. We'd start at the southern entry to town, make our way up and down the two blocks on either side of Main Street, for a total of four blocks, and then head north up Main to complete the route.

"I'll have my radio on all weekend if you need me," I shouted, locking my office door. Cass picked up a call and waved at me to acknowledge my leaving.

Deputy Jay Hayes, Mark and Jill's cousin, blocked my exit to the parking lot. "Jennie thinks he's keen on you, sheriff," he said, smacking my arm and needing help with his segues. Jennie was Jay's wife. They'd been high school sweethearts and married the day Jennie turned eighteen. He continued. "Jennie noticed him drooling over you and your song last Saturday night at Smitty's."

"You can tell your wife she's seeing things."

"Come on, Hunt," he insisted. "Ask the doctor out on an official date. The two of you would make a nice couple."

"And why would I do that, Jay? I'm still holding out for you," I joked.

Jay was Mormon, and he blushed as red as an apple. He was super cool about my sexuality and never preached the book of Mormon, but he was still easy to shock.

"You know I can't, well, I couldn't, you know… do something like that," he struggled to say.

"I'm shittin' ya, buddy," I teased. "So calm down, Mr. Clean. You're certainly a pretty boy, but I happen to like your wife and wouldn't do that to her."

"Jennie insisted I tell you about the doctor," he defended. "I didn't see none of that drooling stuff she was talking about, though."

I leaned closer to him. "It's all good, buddy. I know you ain't gay. I was just surprised to see you and the wife at the tavern. You know, the whole alcohol and Mormon thing."

Just after Jay had had his flushed cheeks under control a second before, they reloaded the heat and he lit up again. "We only went to Smitty's for Mrs. Gellar and her birthday cake," he defended. "I swear, Hunt."

"Calm the fuck down, Deputy. And tell Jennie she didn't see anything," I instructed. "Besides, I'm not looking to date." Jay stepped in front of me as I tried to get past him. "What the hell, dude?" I asked, trying to push him aside.

He remained firmly planted in my path. "I'm supposed to ask you to come over for dinner, Hunt," he revealed. "I told Jennie she shouldn't mess in folks' affairs, but she insisted."

"And whom might I run into if I attend Jennie's little dinner?"

"She has a prenatal check up with the new doctor on Monday," he admitted sheepishly. "I couldn't say no to her, Hunt. I'm sorry. She demanded I make this happen. Jennie is acting all strange right now, what with her being pregnant and all."

I gripped his shoulder. "You're a good husband, Jay, and I understand. You tell Jennie to let me know what the doctor says when she asks him. Okay?" I asked. "You done good now, buddy. You've done your part."

Jay wiped his forehead and let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Hunt." He looked from side to side before leaning into me. "Jennie's acting real crazy lately. I was afraid to go home tonight and not have asked you."

"And now you have," I stated. "Let me know how her appointment goes with the doctor," I said, actually hoping Jennie would convince the doctor to be there. I'd definitely attend for a chance at some one-on-one time with him.

Once inside my rig, I laughed to myself about how my small town was always concerning itself with other people's business. I knew they came from a good place and that being nosy wasn't the entire reason. People in Plentywood cared. They cared for me, and they'd loved Mark. They'd proven that when he passed suddenly.

At the first corner of my patrol, I spotted the doctor out back of the clinic. He was standing in front of his overpriced Mercedes, the hood open and his arms crossed. He kept looking around like he wondered if anyone was nearby who could help him figure out what he was looking at.

I pulled alongside him in the parking lot. "Doc?" I asked, after rolling my window down. "Everything okay?"

"Nothing happened when I pushed the start button," he explained, appearing flustered and perplexed. "You don't exactly need a key even though I have a key," he continued, holding up a key fob with an impressive Mercedes Benz key attached. "I'm not sure if I have to be inside with the door shut or not. There isn't even a keyhole for a key. Is that normal?"

I hopped out of the SUV and peeked inside the open door of his car. I couldn't spot a keyhole for a key either but didn't want to sound as equally lost as he did. "May I see your key?"

I slid into the driver's seat and he handed me the car key. There was a button that read start, so I pushed it. Nothing. I turned the headlight knob. Nothing.

"Is there a problem with the key?" he asked, his gorgeous face scrunched up in the hope I'd solved his problem. He looked exactly like Mark whenever a mechanical issue arose that confused him. Utterly helpless.

"I think your battery is dead. When was the last time you started the car?" I asked. "I know the car is new, but nothing lights up on the dash."

Ben went around to the passenger side and climbed in. "I've driven the car once since I arrived last month," he acknowledged. "Is that bad?"

God! He was cute and helpless. I liked cute and helpless guys a lot. "Your car is brand new, so it shouldn't be an issue if you don't drive all that much," I explained. "Were you inside the glove box just now?" I asked, pointing at the open glove box near his knees.

"A few days ago, I was," he replied.

"Did you shut it after you got what you needed out of it?"

He puckered his lips and gazed at the open glove box before turning to me. His eyes caused my heart to stop. Brilliant green, catching the late evening sun. His mouth moved, but I was time traveling back to the first time I'd noticed Mark's eyes. I was fourteen when it dawned on me that my dead husband had those incredible eyes.

"You okay?" he asked, waving a hand in front of my face. "You zoned out for a second, sheriff."

"Sorry," I mumbled, quickly turning away. "Did you shut the glove box after you got out of the car the other day?" I repeated, embarrassed by my brief disconnect. I swiped at the corners of my eyes before turning back to him.

"Are you crying?" he asked, laying his hand on my arm.

I was about to deny crying when a tear fell to my lap. I hadn't even noticed it escape my eye. "Your eyes… it's just," I began, my throat clamping down on my ability to finish my sentence. "They're…"

Jesus! Before I knew it, a sob escaped me. I literally couldn't speak. I was inches away from him, his hand resting on my arm, and I was on lockdown physically. "Breathe, Hunt," he whispered. "Slow and deep breathing. In through your nose, and then slowly out of your mouth. Relax and exhale," he soothed, sounding clinical at the same time.

To say I was embarrassed was a major understatement. I wanted to die. I stared straight ahead and out of the windshield. He hadn't moved his hand yet and was gently caressing my arm while I concentrated on breathing. After a couple more minutes, I managed to speak.

"Sometimes a memory flashes into my mind out of nowhere," I began. "Or I see something that reminds me…" I caught another sob. "Of him."

"You mentioned my eyes," Ben whispered, still and unbelievably driving me completely mad with his hand lightly caressing my arm.

I faced him and gazed deeper into them. My reaction was emotional and unsettling. How many times had I wished I could see Mark and his amazing eyes one last time? "They're haunting," I whispered. "I hope this doesn't come across as crazy or weird, but you have the exact same eyes as my husband. I'm sorry, but I wasn't prepared for that," I added, clearing my throat and sitting up straighter in the driver's seat.

"I've heard wonderful things about Mark," he said. "I bet you miss him very much, sheriff."

"I do," I confessed, thinking of just how far I'd come since his death, but obviously not as far as I'd thought a minute ago. "Geesh!" I exclaimed, embarrassed by the last minute or two. "Wow!" I added, fumbling with the knobs on the dash. "What about the glove box?"

"I might have left it open," he confessed.

I reached in front of him and shut the small door, waited a moment, and then reopened it. "See that small lightbulb?" He nodded. "It's not lighting up any longer. Your battery is dead."

"Can it live again?"

I wanted to laugh out loud at his innocence, but I needed to stop the painful memory tour I was on, making comparisons between him and Mark. The new doctor was everything I thought I needed in my life. The odd thing, I'd swore that I'd never fall for another man as long as I lived. I figured I couldn't survive love a second time.

"I'll jump you," I announced. I swear he jumped back in his seat, eyes as wide as a dinner plate. "What I meant was that I'll jump your car battery with my rig's battery. You'll be able to start the car in a bit."

He smiled once he understood me. "Thank you, Hunt. I'm going to Missoula this weekend to sell my car and I thought this was a bad sign. I'm so glad I came out to put this pink paper back after signing it," he said, grabbing what appeared to be the car's title and waving it at me. "Charlie said I needed to sign this title thing. You saved me because when he comes tomorrow the car wouldn't have started. You're a savior, sheriff."

"Charlie Brewster?" I asked, shaking my head to dislodge the shock of hearing Charlie's name.

"Yes," he confirmed. "Agnes's grandson. He found a guy in Missoula to buy my car, so we're driving there tomorrow. Charlie said we'll have to stay overnight because of the distance. I guess Missoula is a long way away. Is that right?" he asked.

I heard him explaining the plan, but I was still a few words behind, as I imagined him with Charlie. "Overnight?" I asked, balling my fists on my lap.

"Is Missoula that far?" he repeated.

"Yeah, it is," I muttered. "Too far for a quick turnaround unless you drove all night."

My internal rage simmered just below the surface. Charlie had managed to worm his conniving way into the doctor's good graces. I'm sitting here dying over the doctor because of his fucking eyes and the fact that I'm crazy about him, while Charlie had decided to take his own shot.

I got out of the car, struggling to contain my displeasure, and went to my SUV, popped the hood, and then connected jumper cables to Ben's car. I stood near my engine and waited a few moments. All the while, my mind imagining Charlie and him in some hotel, getting closer and falling in love.

"Please go to the driver's seat," I instructed. Ben got out and moved to the other side of the car, sliding into the driver's seat. "Push the start button, please."

In two seconds, the car started and I unattached the cables, tossing them into my SUV before shutting the hood of his car. I jumped into my rig as fast as I could. I wanted to cry or punch something and needed to be gone as fast as I could escape.

Ben hurried out of his car and stood by the door of my rig. "Thank you, sheriff."

"It's my job, doc," I muttered, firing my rig up and placing it in gear. I needed to get the fuck out of there before I embarrassed myself further. The sixth grader in me was on the verge of rearing his jealous head.

"What do I do now?" he asked. "Leave the car running? Will it start tomorrow when Charlie gets here?"

"How the fuck do I know?" I hissed.

Ben stepped away from my window, a wounded look on his face. "Sheriff?"

"I don't know," I repeated, turning away from him and backing out of the parking lot.

Ben stood in the driveway and watched as I tore away from the clinic. I covered my mouth as a sob overcame any control I had left.

Fucking eyes. I hated his fucking eyes.

Once out of view, I pulled in front of Rexall Drugs and switched the lights off on the SUV. I leaned into the steering wheel, my heart racing. For some reason, I felt like the air had been knocked out of me. I couldn't catch my breath. A strange feeling that he belonged to me and had rejected me, overcame my sensibilities. Truthfully, Ben had no idea what I was feeling for him because, unlike Charlie, I was a chickenshit.

The last time I'd felt like this was several weeks after Mark had died. Once friends and family had resumed their normal lives, it had dawned on me I was truly alone. The panic was overwhelming. The despair practically unbearable.

As my breathing leveled off, the anger surfaced. What the hell was Charlie up to? He knew what he was doing and had used an event he could control to convince Ben to let him help. Charlie had figured out how I felt about Ben, so his scheme felt like a slap in the face. Pulling my cell out of my vest pocket, I scrolled for Charlie's number. I wasn't going to let him ruin my chances with Ben.

"Hey, sheriff," Charlie greeted after one ring. "You calling for a hook-up, stud?"

"Stay the fuck away from Ben," I hissed. "I mean it, Charlie."

"Wow! News travels fast," he quipped. "Gramma rat me out?"

"Doesn't matter who ratted your scheming ass out," I said. "I know what you're trying to do."

"And why is that my problem, Hunt?" he asked. "I'm single. Pretty-boy doc is single. And he asked for my help, so why shouldn't I?"

"It's your problem because you're looking to get at me. You don't want Ben, and you fucking know it," I argued.

The phone was silent for a few seconds before Charlie cleared his throat. "Maybe what I want is for a man to see me as someone they could be with, Hunt. A fresh start where I'm not judged on my past. Maybe a man could choose me for once."

"You want to be with me, Skeet. You know it. I know it," I stated.

He laughed. Not a laugh of joy or of fun. His laugh was tinged with anger. "Big fucking ego there, sheriff," he hissed. "You don't want me. I get that. I've tried and you've shot me down each and every time."

"Good," I stated. "Glad you understand."

"Oh, trust me. I understand," he agreed. "But what you don't understand is that someone else might. And I have my sight set on the new doctor."

"I'm telling you nicely to back off."

"You're not the only gay dude in the county, sheriff. I'm tired of waiting for you to see me as a good man. God knows I've tried, so fuck you, dude. I'm taking my shot with Ben."

We remained silent, our breathing the only sound in each other's ears. Like two alley cats, we'd paused to assess and reload. He'd been direct and had laid down his plans. At least he didn't deny it. But the thought of Charlie with Ben was untenable to me. Yeah, maybe I was slow to figure my emotional shit out these days, but I hadn't had an expressive reaction to another man in two years.

"And I'm taking mine," I announced, suddenly letting my mind catch up with my cold, dead heart. A heart Ben had reawakened.

"Well, there you go, Hunt. May the best man win," he jibed.

"You don't want Ben and we both know it," I added, trying one last argument to keep him out of my way.

"Maybe you're right, but I'm done waiting for you, Hunt," he stated. "I hoped you'd come around by now. Maybe give me a legit shot with you, but you won't do it."

"You thought I'd just turn to you because Mark died?" I asked. "Because he's dead?"

"Because Mark died," he agreed. "But you're fucking stuck, Hunt. You're stuck and you're too fucking dumb to look right in your backyard for a good man."

"So you're gonna chase after Ben? Because I'm stuck and didn't choose you?"

"Yep!" he exclaimed. "And the first shot is tomorrow when I have the doctor overnight in a hotel. And we both know how persuasive I can be, sheriff."

My head felt like it would explode. I slammed my fist on the steering wheel and sensed my temples pulsing. I needed to beat the fuck out of something or someone. "Don't touch him," I muttered.

"Or what?" Charlie dared. "You gonna tell Gramma I was a bad boy? That shit ain't gonna fly, asshole. My grandmother knows not to force me into a psych ward again. And if she fucking tries…" he didn't finish his threat. "Doesn't matter," he defended. "You caused my breakdown, sheriff. You were the fucking cause! I'm through with you. So stay outta my way."

My blood ran like boiling lava, but I needed to remain calm. "I know you're getting better, Skeet. Just do me a favor and leave the doctor out of this," I suggested, doing my best to calm the conversation down a few hundred degrees. "Ben doesn't have our history. He doesn't know the details. What you're doing by involving him just isn't fair."

"But what you're doing is?" he challenged. "Look, Hunt. I've changed. I've done the work and I'm better. I'm stronger now, too, but you'll never see me that way. I deserve a chance, just like you do, and I'm taking mine."

"He's not me, Skeet," I reminded him. "I've been supportive and kind to you, so just leave Ben out if this."

"Can't do that, sheriff. I'm taking a chance at love and that's how it goes."

He had me at a draw. Of course, I wanted Charlie to be well, to remain well, but he'd had a tough road when I ended our fuck-buddy arrangement. I'd been wrong to use him and he'd been wrong to go along in an attempt to be with me. We'd both used poor judgement when we got entangled six months after Mark's untimely death.

In his own way, he'd thought we were a couple. He practically resided out at my place, doing his best to play house with me. I'd welcomed the company after six months of a lonely and miserable existence. I'd welcomed the sex, too. Charlie had a desire to be with me, and I had a desire to fuck my way out of my grief. Neither one of us came from an honest angle. Things went from bad to really bad .

I decided to be the bigger person. "How about we both back off and work on our friendship, Skeet? We can do that. What do ya say?"

"You'll give me a chance?" he asked. "You'll see me as a man who can be a good partner to you?"

"A friend, Skeet. Not a romantic partner. I can be a good friend," I offered, regretting my decision to call and provoke this rehashing of the past.

"Fair enough. Lemme think about it."

The call was over. Charlie hung up.