Young Buck: A Slow Burn Small Town Romance (Green Valley Heroes Book 5)

Chapter 20

“G’night, Crystal.”

I projected my voice so that our office manager could hear. Her desk was in a reception area that was away from the main part of the garage. An open door separated the administrative offices from the truck bays. I didn’t see much of Crystal, but I’d quickly learned that she ran shit. And that staying on her good side was strongly advised.

Word on the street was, she had five grown children, including triplet sons. She was blond haired and heavyset and she moved quickly. It was no wonder she ran the office as well as she did.

Crystal looked up. “You’re not back on until the weekend, right?”

My attempted grin might have looked more like a relieved smile. “Three glorious days off the clock.”

“I hope you’ve got a big drink waiting for you at home,” Crystal quipped.

“I’ve got a bottle of bourbon and a neighbor with a lemon tree.”

Said neighbor had sent me home after dinner the other night with a cornucopia of vegetables from her garden and an open invitation to harvest whatever I liked. I’d grilled her on her favorite dishes and was mentally planning what I would make her for our next working dinner.

“You got your envelope, didn’t you?” Crystal called after me as I started toward the door.

“An envelope came for me?”

“At around quarter to four. Louie was supposed to tell you.”

“Louie’s supposed to do a lot of things he doesn’t do,” I said, diverting from my original route and walking toward the office at the same time Crystal rose from her seat. She reached the mailboxes seconds before I did and handed me the manila envelope that had been in my slot.

When I made it to the parking lot, I didn’t start my truck. I turned the cab light on and locked myself in. Inside the envelope were three short stacks of stapled papers. Each one had a pink sticky note stuck to the first page with words written in Loretta’s elegant scrawl.

Timothy Riggins

I said his name out loud. It was written at the top of all three reports. I read the first sticky note with a thundering heart.

No criminal record

The note sat on a printout of ten or so papers upon which Loretta had highlighted the relevant parts. There were sections for things like felonies, lawsuits, arrests, and traffic violations. The notation under each heading was consistent: None found. I started breathing again.

The second packet had an equally clear sticky note:

Financial problems in the past

In that packet, I found a litany of issues. He’d had medical bills go into collections. He’d gotten behind on his credit cards. He’d taken out a second mortgage on his house and gotten into arrears. It was nothing most Americans hadn’t struggled with at some point, but it had shredded his credit for a time.

The note on the third packet was unexpected.

Confirmed owner of Riggins Repair Garage

This final packet held details about the properties he owned—purchase dates and tax records and historical ownership rosters.Why Loretta had dropped these off rather than coming in?

I spent my entire ride home musing over what I had learned. I was relieved to see Loretta’s house lights on when I parked my car. Eager to discuss her findings, I went straight to her door. When she didn’t answer the doorbell, I remembered that most nights, she watered her garden right after she got home. Not that I’d been paying attention.

As I made my way toward her backyard, I heard music. It seemed wise to announce myself. No need to scare her, like I had that first night.

“Hey, Loretta,” I said the second I turned the corner toward her porch.

“Oh, hey, Buck.”

The second she saw me, her expression broke into the shy smile I liked so much. The sofa she sat on was the centerpiece of her back porch—sturdy rattan with thick, white canvas cushions. A glass-topped table held a wooden tray with a sweating glass pitcher on top. It was filled with ice and a clear liquid and mint leaves and lime. Some part of me wished I’d happened upon her like this on any other night, a night when I could join her casually for a drink, not as her client, but as a man.

“You came by the firehouse.”

She sat up straighter. “You got the envelope.”

“Why didn’t you come in? It would’ve been nice to see you.”

As I approached her, I returned her smile. I climbed up the back steps and took her invitation to sit when she motioned toward the open chair next to the sofa upon which she sat.

“I didn’t want to disturb you while you were working.”

“It wouldn’t have been any disturbance. Next time, you ought to come in and say hello.”

“Oh.” Something in the way she said it put me on alert. “I didn’t really want to run into that guy. And with the video, and the way we met, I know you asked me to stay away.”

“Hey.” I waited until she met my eyes. “I wish I hadn’t said that. I had a bad first day at work.”

“I’m pretty sure you meant it.”

“I did mean it at the time. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. None of it was your fault. I was acting suspicious as hell and you were a badass with a Taser with every right to defend her house.”

My heart lifted when I got another smile out of her, then sank when it began to fade. I thought about the other thing she said.

“That guy...his name is Louie. He’s a colossal jerk. If you ever come by, I can make it so you never have to see him.”

She still looked troubled and I hated that I’d disturbed her tranquility. Before I’d shown up, she’d been enjoying an uncomplicated drink.

“I was planning on stealing a lemon,” I confessed in the hopes it would lighten things.

“Just one?”

“Maybe two. You and me had the same idea.” I jutted my chin toward the pitcher on her table.

“What’s your poison?” she asked.

“Anything with bourbon and citrus.”

She motioned to her pitcher. “Would you settle for rum?”

I nodded.

“I’ll pour you a mojito.”

She started to get up, but I wouldn’t let her. “I know where you keep your glasses.” It only took me a minute to enter into her kitchen and grab myself a mason jar.

“Tough day at the office?” she asked with genuine concern once I came back out.

“Turns out Louie’s a pain in everyone’s ass,” I said bluntly. “But forget about him. How about you? Don’t tell me old Jeffrey James drove you to drink.”

There was joking in my voice but I cared how Loretta really was. Sometimes she seemed so solitary.

“Actually, the sheriff is a pretty great boss.” But she frowned a bit before she spoke again. “He offered me a promotion.”

I puzzled at the conflicted look on her face.

“Most badass investigators I know like it when someone recognizes how good they are at what they do.”

“Yeah, well...It’s a good offer, but it would be a change. It’s just...not a part of the original plan. Anyway...” She changed the subject too abruptly for me to ask what the “original plan” was. “Looks like your potential bio dad isn’t a criminal or a creep. Your mother doesn’t seem threatened by him and he doesn’t appear to have his sights on extorting anyone for money.”

“It’s the standard all bio dads should be held to.” It came out more petulantly than I would have liked.

“Look. I know we still don’t know who he is to her, but it’s good to know what he’s not. Trust me, this is a great start.”

“And you’re doing an amazing job,” I said quickly, not wanting her to think I was complaining.

“I also told you it’s a marathon, not a sprint. There’s plenty more investigating to do.”

I leaned in. “Then tell me what’s next, boss.”

The glass she handed back to me looked like something out of a magazine. A blue-and-white striped paper straw stuck out of the drink and she’d placed a large sprig of mint as garnish up top. I liked how she made everything beautiful. I nodded my appreciation for the cocktail and took my first swallow of the delicious liquid as she answered my question.

“We need to go back to Hinckley.”