Finn

1. Finn

Finn

Squeezing the bridge of my nose, I prayed for patience, knowing I would need it for this situation. Give me drunk and disorderly any day over livestock, particularly this livestock.

Expelling a long breath, I opened my door and stepped out of my cruiser. Waffles turned his head, his white, gray, and brown face practically daring me to arrest him. I stood there, glaring at the miniature spotted donkey, the bane of my existence.

For several long moments, neither of us moved, staring each other down. If I moved first, he would bolt. Which meant I would be chasing a stubborn ass around town—potentially the entire county, if he was being particularly stubborn. That was a lesson he’d taught me the hard way. More than once.

Several minutes passed, neither of us doing more than existing as we had our stare-off.

Vehicles passed on the street behind me, a few people calling out greetings from their windows.

I continued to stay motionless, not lifting a hand or nodding in return.

More than once, I heard someone laughing, because this was a small town and this was the most police activity that the citizens normally got. At least, that they knew of.

Finally, Waffles grew bored with me and returned to eating the prized rosebush right outside the florist’s shop. Fuck. Now, that? That was definitely going to cause drama.

And paperwork. Lots of paperwork.

“Dispatch, I am 10-23 of the 10-68,” I informed June, the dispatcher, that I was on-site with the livestock.

“Do you need backup, Sheriff?” she asked in her dry tone. She could have been dead serious or ready to bust a gut laughing at me. With June, it could go either way, depending on how many calls she’d already received on both the emergency and non-emergency lines regarding Waffles the donkey.

If she was calling in a 10-68, then she’d gotten at least one “emergency” call reporting the menace running amok in town.

“Negative. I have suspect in sight. I’m going to round him up and take him home. Mark me as 10-7 until further notice.”

“Will do,” she affirmed then half cackled as she said, “Good luck!”

As I approached Waffles, the front door of the florist’s shop opened, the annoying bell jangling as it was angrily yanked back. The donkey’s head snapped around, his face changing as he appraised the person interrupting his midday snack.

“I want to press charges!” Hilary shrieked. “That rosebush has won awards! Creswell Springs would have never been dubbed the quaintest Main Street in the state if it weren’t for my roses.”

“You want to press charges against a donkey?” I asked, my tone neutral.

Heat filled her face, but instead her of backing down as I hoped, her embarrassment only made her angrier.

“No, Finn. I do not want to press charges on a donkey. I want to press charges against his owner. She needs to take responsibility for that pest! All he does is run around this town, not a care in the world, completely unchecked. Destroying property.”

In total, the only “property damage” Waffles had committed was eating the occasional flower and relieving himself on the sidewalk or grass.

When I got calls about that, it was generally only because someone was unhappy they stepped in a steaming pile.

Because apparently watching where they stepped was too big an inconvenience for some people.

Hilary pointed aggressively toward the little guy. “That creature is not only a nuisance, but with the way he trots around, he could place the citizens in peril.”

I tucked my hands into my bulletproof vest, raising my brows at her. “How do you figure that, Hilary?”

“He could cause an accident with how he bounces up and down the street, stepping in front of a vehicle. Drivers are always having to swerve to avoid him.”

As much as Waffles irritated me, I was fond of the little guy.

So was the majority of the town, including my mother, who happened to be the mayor.

Hilary was one of the few residents who got grumpy over Waffles.

Most of the calls I received regarding the donkey were more to report sightings, primarily so they could then watch me corral the little beast before returning him home.

Which happened to be my favorite part of every shift.

Waffles stayed out of the road, keeping to the sidewalks or yards. He had made friends over the years and often stopped at the elementary school throughout the day. All the kids carried treats for him when they were out on the playground, just in case they got to see him.

With how he was taking his time munching on the roses, I would bet he’d gotten his fair share of carrot sticks and apple slices earlier in the day.

He was Creswell Springs’s unofficial mascot.

“Is your bush insured?” I tossed out the first question that I knew would throw her off.

Her face turned beet red, and she made a choking noise that suggested her mind had gone straight to the gutter at my question.

Like I knew it would. Hilary and I had grown up together.

She had a dirty mind and had had a huge crush on me since freshman year of high school.

In senior year, I’d taken her to homecoming because we were both up for homecoming king and queen.

That night, she’d shown me how dirty she could be, which eighteen-year-old me had thought was hot, but not worth a repeat.

Ever since, she’d been a bitch to me. Even though no one could miss the hope that filled her face every time I got so much as an inch closer to her than usual. “E-excuse me?”

“The flower bush,” I said, enunciating each word slowly and precisely.

She’d never been the brightest bulb in the pack.

Hilary had barely graduated. She owned the flower shop because her grandma had left it to her in her will.

I’d give it to her, though—she had zero talent with flower arrangements, but she did have Miss Hester’s green thumb and could grow almost anything in her hothouse. “Do you have insurance on it?”

“Not on that bush, specifically. But I have a policy for the property and the contents.”

“Then I suggest filing a claim with your insurance company. Especially if the bush is so valuable,” I told her, my tone dismissive.

“My deductible would be more than any compensation I would receive. And then my rates will skyrocket.”

Great. She was back to shrieking.

Waffles made a noise, like the sound hurt his ears.

Same, bud. Same.

“This is a civil matter, Hilary. No crime has been committed.”

“You always say that! Every damn time I call about that stupid donkey, you say there’s nothing you can do. I know it’s because of her.” When I didn’t respond, she stomped her foot. “Next time, I’m going to call animal control.”

“That would also be me,” I reminded her.

“I’m a citizen of this town and county, Finn Davis. You are an elected official, and my vote matters.”

“Yes, I am, and of course every vote matters.” I kept my face straight as I spoke. “Please exercise your right to vote against me should someone happen to oppose me in the next election.”

Before me, my father had been the sheriff of Trinity County. He’d run unopposed for decades. When he retired, I’d stepped into the position. This was only my first term, but I had been elected. And I would continue to be elected, most likely until I had a kid who wanted to fill my shoes.

I was one of the legacy families in Creswell Springs.

Last names meant something in this town.

Hannigan. Reid. Masterson. Davis. If anyone with those surnames stood up and spoke, people stopped and listened.

Those families got shit done, not just when things were messy, but because they would get messy and they weren’t afraid of it.

My grandmother, Raven Hannigan Reid, had been mayor for sixteen years unopposed, until she’d talked my mother into leading the town.

Lexa Davis would continue to be mayor until she was tired too.

My sister, Tali, would likely fill the role when Mom stepped back.

Not because she was a Davis, but because she was Raven Reid’s granddaughter.

That was the only endorsement she needed.

Before she was elected mayor, Raven had already been running the town. The Angel’s Halo MC considered her their queen. She had more power than any elected official. She just made it formal by taking the reins when Jenkins, the mayor before her, retired.

Hilary’s next shriek was more of a war cry, the noise loud and feral. She turned and grabbed the first thing she could get her hands on. A rake that she must have left outside after weeding the decorative flower bed.

Lifting the rake high over her head, she charged at Waffles.

I grabbed her from behind just as Waffles startled and kicked his back legs defensively before taking off down the street. Hilary screamed again, the rake still high over her head while she struggled to get free of my hold.

Behind me, I heard the distinctive sound of a UTV and bit back a groan.

Waffles must have heard it too, because he shifted directions and ran straight toward the four-seater side-by-side.

It had a tag on the front and back that declared the off-road vehicle as FARM USE.

After I’d written the driver a ticket the first time she’d driven it in town, she’d taken it to the garage and had it customized to be street legal, including turn signals and a horn.

As she drove closer, Waffles stopped to wait for her. Which only infuriated Hilary more. She tried to charge at the donkey again.

“If you touch him, I will arrest you for cruelty to animals, Hilary,” I warned, my voice low and lethal.

“You’ll regret this,” she hissed, glaring at me over her shoulder.

“I regret most things that involve you.”

Her eyes lit up with what looked like hurt and a challenge.

It was the latter that had me releasing her on instinct, and I was thankful I’d turned on my body cam when I’d first spotted Waffles.

Mom always loved watching me chase that damn donkey.

Giving her footage she could giggle over was going to save my ass, in more ways than one.

Before I could take a step back, or even guess at what she was doing, Hilary pushed up onto her tiptoes and kissed me.

Right in front of Grier.

Fuck my life.