2. Chapter 2 #2
He wrote ’12-hour’ beneath the sum, and beneath that, Sat to Fri. He underlined it before glancing up at her. His glasses had slipped down his straight nose when he’d lowered his head. For the first time, she found herself looking into his blue eyes directly. Baby blue… cold as ice…
“You’ll be working six to six,” he told her, still on the phone. “That fine for you?”
As if she had a choice.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“Excellent.” Talking into the phone, he said, “She’ll be on the bus in the morning. Night, Bobby.” Ending the call, he dropped the phone on her file and smiled that crooked smile up at her. “The first day’s always the hardest, so I hear. Get good sleep tonight. You’re gonna need it.”
She nodded.
“Café down the street closes at 9 p.m. sharp. Doesn’t open at all on Sundays. Neither does the grocery store. So, if you want to eat, I recommend you go get you something before they close.” He pinned her with another wary look and said, “Because I am not…”
He left the sentence hanging for her to fill in the blank.
“My refrigerator?” she asked.
“Good girl,” he said again. “Six in the morning. Get good sleep and food. Rent’s in three days; I always collect on Fridays. Sadly, you probably won’t be able to afford it, so we’ll start you a running tab.”
She nodded, her stomach sinking. “Thank you. I’ll get caught up as soon as I can.”
“You’ll get caught up as soon as you can, what, darlin’?” he asked pointedly.
Her mind scrambled. “Um… sir?” she added hopefully.
“Sir, Mr. Travis, sir,” he said, his smile broadening. That smile still hadn’t reached as far as his eyes. They were cool and dark, and piercing in their assessment of her.
“Sir, Mr. Travis, sir,” she dutifully repeated, clasping nervous hands tightly in front of her.
This man was definitely not a friend, no matter how broad his smile.
“Good girl,” he said for the last time. “Now get the hell out of my office.”
***
Back into town Tabby walked to circle around behind the strip mall where the bus had dropped her.
That was where she spotted the café. There were eight cars in that part of the parking lot, hidden from view on Main Street by the other buildings.
At least it was open. Still, with what few dollars she had in her wallet, although she’d much prefer to visit the restaurant and have something warm cooked for her, she kept walking.
She just didn’t have enough cash to waste on one meal.
Checking both ways, she jogged across the street and into the parking lot of Stile’s Groceries.
Just as she was hopping up onto the sidewalk, she happened to glance toward the store’s entrance and who should she see, his broad shoulder leaning up against a square brick pillar and gray cowboy hat tipped back, but the sheriff himself.
He wore sunglasses not unlike Travis’s and was chewing on the end of a toothpick, something she couldn’t see until she got closer.
What she could see, however, was that his gaze was locked on her and probably had been since before she’d crossed the street.
Shit, and she had just jaywalked. Again.
Nobody went to jail for that, she angrily told herself. At least she hoped they didn’t.
Her stomach instantly bound into knots, which only got tighter with every step. He didn’t take his eyes off her once, not until she was within feet of passing him.
“That’s jaywalking, Miss Markle,” he intoned. “And that’s twice you’ve done it. Right in front of me, too.”
Folding her arms across her nervous stomach, she headed for the store’s sliding glass door and said nothing. All she wanted was to get her groceries and go home. But no sooner did she grabbed a cart, than did Sheriff Barnes shove off the post he’d been leaning on and fall into step behind her.
“License or ID,” he told her, pulling his ticket book out of his back pocket.
And now she had a ticket to pay for? Tabitha turned and frowned at him. “You can’t be serious.”
An eyebrow arched from behind the multicolored mirror of his sunglasses. “Do I look like I’m serious?”
She glared, seeing nothing but her own reflection frowning back at her. He looked just like his brother in that moment, except with a big, fat, shaved head.
Which was about when the guilt set in.
She sighed, pushed the cart back amongst the others, walked back outside and pulled out her wallet to deal with this. “I just want to get something to eat. I don’t want trouble.”
“Jaywalking is still against the law, which is why we have crosswalks,” he reminded.
“It’s also not safe. Not for you or for the poor person just a-driving through town, who might not see you in time to stop.
Also, it’s the second time you’ve done it in front of me. Time to nip it in the bud. License.”
Unsnapping her wallet, she pulled out an expired learner’s permit and handed it to him. “I’ve got my high school ID card if that won’t work, but it’s expired too.”
“I’ll make do,” he assured her.
Folding her arms across her chest, she watched him write out the ticket, which she then had to sign. When he handed it over, she snatched it from his fingers and glared at the $25 fine. “Thanks a lot—” She scowled at his signature. “—Jeff.”
Stuffing the ticket in her back pocket, she took her license when he offered it and then headed back into the store. Flashing him a nasty look back over her shoulder, she yanked a cart back out of the return.
It was hard to make a stern exit when one was driving a squeaky-wheeled cart, but she did her best. Halfway past the registers, behind her, the sheriff broke into a cheerful whistle.
She heard the clang of another cart being yanked out of the return stall, and when she glanced back over her shoulder, there he was—Sheriff Jeff Barnes, falling into step once more behind her with a shopping cart of his own now in tow.
She immediately stopped where she was, turning to glare at him with her hands knuckling into her hips. “This is harassment,” she hissed once he’d caught up with her. “You can’t just follow me wherever I go.”
He checked the time on his watch, then turned it towards her and tapped the display face. “I just got off work. I’ve got shopping to do too.”
Heat flushed through her. That actually made sense, considering the alternative was that he’d been hanging around the town grocery store hoping she’d happen by. She was pretty sure this was harassment no matter what he said, but what could she do about it? Nothing, that’s what.
Get over it, Tabby. Get on with your life . Grabbing her cart, she marched off towards the produce section. Just as she reached it, she glanced back over her shoulder to find him right there behind her, his long legs having no problem keeping pace with her.
He was smiling. “What do you know? I always start with fruits and vegetables too.”
Asshole.
Gritting her jaw so tight her teeth hurt, she let out a slow breath, forced herself to calm down, and then got to work doing what she’d come here for.
He was Starvation’s sheriff and her parole officer’s brother.
There was no greater combination better suited to screw her over if she so much as stepped a toe out of line.
So just don’t.
She grabbed a cheap bag of carrots and a handful of apples, one for each day of the week.
She had no idea how long she was going to have to go before she had money again, so the apples were a luxury.
But she’d missed them. There was nothing like the fresh, crisp sweetness of a ripe apple, and the ones she’d gotten in prison were anything but fresh.
“No, no, no,” Sheriff Barnes said, coming up to the fruit display beside her. “Don’t take those unless you want mealy. You’ll be disappointed. Fuji, always go Fuji. They’re the best.”
He took the half bag she’d already filled and promptly dumped them back out again. He refilled it, this time with ripe, shiny Fuji apples. “Here you go. I’d advocate you try one, but… you know, not until you pay for them.”
She frowned. She also took the apples and put them in her cart. Without speaking to him, she walked away again.
Don’t follow me , she wanted to snap. Don’t follow, don’t talk, and leave me alone!
Frustrated, she abandoned the produce aisle altogether, but paused again when she passed the discount rack.
Creamy peanut butter. There was a plastic jar of it with a bright yellow discount sticker. The sides were bent in and the lid was cracked, so it had obviously been dropped. But the safety seal was still intact, so she put it in the cart and went into the next aisle to grab a loaf of bread.
“You should really try switching to wheat,” Sheriff Barnes cheerfully pipped up as he came walking down the aisle behind her again. “White is fine for french toast, but it has next to no nutritional value.”
She gritted her teeth and, even as she was telling herself to keep walking, not to say anything back or encourage him to keep hounding at her, she stopped and turned around. “What if I like white bread?”
“Wheat’s better for you.”
“How the hell do you know what’s best for me ? Stop following me!” she hissed and marched away, turning down the next aisle only to have him turn into it right behind her.
She whirled around on him, but his hands were already cupped around his mouth as he mock whispered, “It’s where my next items are. I can’t help where the store puts the things I need, or that you’re going in the same direction I am.”
Bullshit. It echoed over and over in her head.
That excuse was nothing but bullshit, and yet she couldn’t say anything.
He must really think she was a major shoplifting threat, and yet she’d never stolen anything in her life.
Well… not since she was five, anyway. And she sure as hell hadn’t been a part of stealing that damn Trans-Am!