Chapter 4
KINCAID
DrunkenPoet: I was wondering if you ever want to meet IRL…
IndexEcho: Not if, Poet. But when.
_____________________
The last thing I wanted to do was see Alexander Marian again so soon. I was still irrationally angry at him for the little sparkler stunt he’d pulled the night before on his family’s land.
The man had a huge, filthy-rich family, and he dared to put their gorgeous Montana property at risk? How ignorant could he be?
I’d already heard about the Marian family from the sheriff and various members of my crew.
I knew they were from California and had bought the historic Legacy Inn and all its surrounding property over twenty years ago, that they’d brought in enough money to help turn the town’s future around, and that Hazel Marian’s investment in a tech company here had brought in jobs, too.
The influx of all that cash had apparently solidified Legacy’s reputation as a destination worth visiting.
Restaurants, art galleries, and the single ski slope were enough to make tourism a significant portion of Legacy’s economy, and it was thanks in large part to the financial stability the Marians had brought.
So why would Alex be so careless? It made no sense.
But then again, when I remembered how careless he’d been with me in Amsterdam, how he’d arranged to come back to my room with me for the night and then taken a better offer the minute my head was turned, it made sense.
At the time, I’d wondered if it had been his youth. The man was clearly still in his twenties, while I was decidedly… not. So when he’d blown me off, I’d chalked it up to immaturity as well as selfishness. And so far, seeing him in his regular life had proved me correct.
When I’d gotten to the station this morning and had seen an alert pop up for a standard inspection due, I’d groaned in disbelief.
Timber.
I’d glared at the alert and clicked through to the details because this wasn’t related to the reports I’d filed after the drinks fire. It was something else completely.
“Hey, Sujo!” I’d barked after seeing the name on the notes.
Within moments, Javi had popped his head through my doorway. “Hey! I’m gonna have the Untrace incident report on your desk in an hour, tops, Chief, I promise—”
I’d cut him off with a wave. “That’s not what I… wait, what incident?”
“Dumbass left his mug warmer on and lit a folder on fire yesterday.” Javi had rolled his eyes. “No damage, but I gave the guy a lecture. It’ll all be in my report.”
I’d nodded, leaning forward in my chair. “Put that aside for a second and tell me about this commercial kitchen renovation at Timber.”
Forty minutes later, I’d found myself back at Timber, sparring with Alex Marian yet again.
“It’s already been inspected,” Alex said, looking more tired than angry today. “Don’t you have a record of it? I want to say it was back in April? Had to be. That’s when the renovations were done.”
“The suppression nozzle on the vent hood was supposed to be replaced after that inspection,” I explained.
“This is a follow-up to make sure the work was done and everything is functioning properly for fire suppression. While I’m here, I’ll inspect your cleaning logs for the vent hood, test the alarm functionality and the shut-off feature of the wet chemical system, and double-check the location of your extinguishers. ”
Alex gave me a blank stare. “Any way you can do that without interfering with the running of my business?”
“Absolutely not,” I said, flashing him a chipper grin. “Today’s Tuesday. Would you rather me come back on Friday or Saturday evening?”
He blinked. “Uh, no? I’d rather you come back never.”
“If wishes were horses… Anyway, I’ll help myself to the kitchen. Feel free to ignore me and continue doing what you were doing. Unless it involves butane, propane, kerosene, alcohol… or an open flame of any kind.”
Alex’s cheek flexed as he ground his teeth. “I own a wood-fired pizza oven. There are open flames in my place of work. I will continue to cook with them whether you like it or not.”
I pressed my lips together and lifted my eyebrows. “Will you, though?”
He rubbed his face with both hands before looking at me with bleary eyes. “Will you just get on with it, please? Jesus fuck. Less talking, more inspecting.”
It was a good sign he wasn’t nervous about the inspection. Hopefully, that meant all his ducks were in order and we could both get through this as quickly as possible.
Unfortunately, his ducks were not in a row, but I had to admit that it wasn’t his mistake.
“This is the wrong suppression nozzle,” I informed him, pointing to the offending part. “It looks like your contractor replaced it with the exact same part.”
I saw the fear wash over him, his entire body going rigid in expectation of me shutting him down until he could get it fixed.
“I’ll give you five days to get it fixed,” I said, feeling particularly magnanimous. “But if it’s not…”
He sucked in a shaky breath. “I’ll figure it out. It’s just there aren’t that many… never mind.” He blew out a breath and stalked off to the tiny office behind the commercial fridge.
After watching him walk away, dejected and stressed, I climbed down from the ladder, took it back out to my vehicle to store it properly, then took a seat in the truck to type up the report. When I was finished, I made a few phone calls and returned inside to find Alex at his desk.
The so-called office was a glorified broom closet behind the walk-in fridge.
Every inch of wall space was crammed with something touting prestige—gourmet food awards, educational certificates, glossy photos of a smiling family at a fancy wine-tasting.
Framed printouts of splashy media coverage were lined up on a shelf like some kind of pageant display.
Even the desk seemed to brag: stacks of papers teetering next to an open laptop as if he were a hard worker, a coffee mug with a perfect ring staining the blotter like it had been placed there for effect.
It didn’t feel like a workspace so much as a shrine—to his pedigree, his family’s money, his own need to prove something.
All flash and little actual substance. The only thing that seemed to be about him personally, rather than his fancy family, was the scent of him.
It wasn’t the same cologne I’d smelled on him that night in Amsterdam. It was different. More down-to-earth.
Of course the man smelled like trouble—yeast and firewood and something sweet and tart, like he’d pressed merlot-dipped fingertips behind his ears. Alex Marian was sunshine bottled and shaken over smoke. A scent that made me want to lean closer and investigate more, even when I knew better.
I held my breath to keep from huffing it and knocked on the open doorframe. “I emailed you a copy of the report with the information you need to tell your repair person.”
He didn’t look up from his laptop. I could see a Google search for fire suppression system installation and maintenance companies pulled up on the small screen.
“And I, uh, included a list of reputable guys who can hook you up,” I added. “Good luck.”
Before he could say anything, I bolted out of there. Not only did I need to get to my next inspection, but I also needed to get the hell away from Alex Marian before I asked him why he was so tired.
I didn’t need to know. Moreover, making nice with a proven liar was not a great idea.
When I got back behind the wheel of my vehicle to head to a cherry orchard fifteen minutes outside of town, my phone buzzed with a call from my closest friend.
“Max,” I said, accepting the call against my better judgment. I’d learned a long time ago not to ignore Max Franco. The man was relentless and would just keep calling.
“You owe me one,” he said, laughter in his voice. “A big one.”
Just the sound of his easy tone helped ease the tension from my shoulders a little. “Oh yeah? How’s that? Pretty sure I’m still up on the owing scale, jackass.”
“Pfft. How many times you gonna throw that whole ‘saving my ass’ bullshit in my face? Anyway, my friend Kaidee is coming your way. She’s doing a whole summer thing between the Tetons, Yellowstone, and Glacier. She’s a schoolteacher and wants to make the most of her break.”
“Okay? Does she need recommendations for hotels and restaurants or something?”
“No, dude. She needs a place to stay. Someone to show her around. You’ll really like her. And she’s single, so, like, go for it.”
“Go for it? Does she have your permission to hook her up with random guys? Jesus.” I waved to one of our local deputies as I passed some road construction. “I don’t need dating help, Max. And I definitely don’t want to start something with someone who lives in Philly.”
“She lives in Boulder. That’s practically next door to you.”
I huffed out a laugh. “It’s an eight-hour drive.”
“Anyway, you don’t have to marry the woman. Just have a little fun. Take her out, go for a hike together. Maybe take your mind off work a little bit.”
For some reason, the idea of meeting a nice woman didn’t appeal to me these days. It was harder to have a quick, sex-only connection with a woman without risking hurt feelings. With men, I could be more transactional. Make it clearer from the start that all I was interested in was a quick release.
I’d stupidly fallen for a stranger on the internet years ago and fucked it up. And even though we’d never met in person, and I’d never even learned his real name, I still compared my connection with anyone I dated to him.
DrunkenPoet.
I gritted my teeth and forced him out of my head for the millionth time.
“Yeah, okay,” I forced myself to say. “I’ll host your friend, as long as she understands my crazy work schedule. She needs to be willing to be ditched at a moment’s notice.”
“Yeah, yeah, she’s cool. Girl who solo hikes the big peaks isn’t afraid of alone time, you know?”
We exchanged a few more words before I arrived at my next inspection site and had to end the call. He promised to give Kaidee my details so she could get in touch with me directly.
By the time I entered the machine shed at the orchard, I’d forgotten all about it. But that night, when I stepped out of a long, hot shower and moved into the kitchen of the log home I was renting so I could reheat leftovers for dinner, my phone buzzed with a message from Max’s friend.
Kaidee and I texted back and forth about her upcoming visit, and by the time we’d made arrangements for her to stay in my spare room for a couple of weeks, I was feeling optimistic.
She seemed friendly, interesting, and chill, as well as completely fine looking after her own entertainment.
She said she looked forward to learning more about my job so she could tell her third-grade students all about meeting a real-life firefighter.
I clicked into her Instagram and saw jaw-dropping photos of vistas, hikes, early wildflowers, and her smiling face. She was beautiful, but not in a cover-model way. More in a girl-next-door way. Something about her felt safe and easy, and I looked forward to getting to know her.
And maybe putting DrunkenPoet out of my mind once and for all.