Chapter 2 #3
Gunner didn’t like it, but he didn’t argue. He just turned and walked out, stopping at his desk long enough to log off his computer.
“What’s going on?” Cliff asked.
“The old man we brought in from the warehouse is dead. Killed by a hit-and-run driver. They asked me to ID him.”
“Why you?” Cliff asked.
“Because they found my card on him. I gave it to him when I dropped him off at the shelter. I’m going home. See you tomorrow.”
Cliff frowned. “Damn, that’s tough.”
Gunner turned, looking Cliff straight in the face. “No, it’s suspicious as hell. That’s what it is,” and walked out.
Cliff nodded but didn’t respond. Ever since they’d worked the body dump case, he and Gunner had lost traction. He felt the distance between them but didn’t know how to get it back.
* * *
Gunner was in a mood, and going home to an empty house with no groceries wasn’t going to make it better.
He’d been putting off a shopping trip for almost a week and decided that walking down aisles among strangers to the piped-in music from the eighties was better than thinking about stuff he couldn’t change, so he stopped at the nearest Whole Foods, grabbed a shopping cart, and headed down the first aisle.
This was Texas. It was common to see cowboys.
But it wasn’t every day you saw one like Gunner Kingston.
His badge and the shoulder holster with his weapon were obvious.
It branded him as a cop. But there were perks.
His hair was black as night, and he was tall enough to reach the top shelves without the need to stretch.
Even the brim on his black, gambler-style Stetson couldn’t hide the handsome cut of his face, or the grim expression he was wearing.
Women looked, then looked away, unwilling to be caught in the icy glare he was giving to a box of cereal.
Unaware of being watched, Gunner was focusing on finding a box of cereal that didn’t have marshmallows in it, and unaware of the shopper behind him until the sudden stop of motion in his peripheral vision made him turn and look.
The first thing he saw was a woman with a wild mane of auburn curls, and then he saw her face and realized she was calling his name.
“Gunner… Is it really you? It’s me, Holly. Holly Dillon.”
He blinked, then a slow smile spread across his face. “Damn, kid. You grew up, and did a fine job of it, at that.”
Holly beamed, then threw herself into his arms without a shred of hesitation. “I haven’t seen you since you graduated high school. Are you as badass as you look, or is this all just fashion and flash?”
He grinned. She’d never been one to hesitate about speaking her mind, and clearly, she had not changed.
“I haven’t seen you since you were what…ten years old?”
“Twelve, and the only bat girl Crossroads baseball team ever had,” she said, then realized she was still hugging him and let go. “Sorry. I got a little carried away.”
He touched the tiny little scar on her forehead. “I seem to remember you getting on the wrong side of a fly ball and dropping like a dead fly out near the dugout.”
“Yes, and you picked me up and started running toward my mom and dad who were watching the game from our truck, dumped me in Mom’s lap, and told them to get me to a doctor. I believe you also told them they better not let me die, because I was the best bat girl they’d ever had.”
Gunner grinned. “You were. It’s great to see you again. Do you live in Dallas?”
“Yes, and the real estate office I work at is in Dallas, too, but I work all over the metroplex,” she said.
“You sell houses?”
“I take a listing occasionally, but my main job is keeping up with all the paperwork regarding buying and selling, and verifying deeds for the other Realtors. What about you?”
He pulled back the front of his jacket, revealing the weapon in his shoulder holster and the detective badge clipped to his belt. “I’ve been with the Dallas PD from the start of my career, but the last eight of those years in Homicide.”
Her eyes widened. “Awesome. Can you still run like the devil is chasing you?”
Without thinking, he lifted a wayward curl from the corner of her eye.
“Yeah, only now I’m the one chasing the devil and his cohorts. Are you married, dating, attached in any way, etcetera, etcetera?”
She grinned. “No to all, even the etcetera. What about you?”
His eyes narrowed as he watched the expressions coming and going on her face, and he made a knee-jerk decision that was very unlike him.
“My only attachment is my job. Want to trade phone numbers?” he asked.
She yanked her phone out of her pocket without bothering to answer. They traded numbers and one last hug, and then she pointed down the aisle behind him. “I still have shopping to do. Don’t forget me.”
“That’s never gonna happen. Have dinner with me… If you’re not busy,” he said and then nearly choked on his audacity. He wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment kind of man.
Holly beamed. “You mean now?”
“I guess I do. Like as soon as we finish shopping…before either of us go home. Somewhere nearby. I have a rare need for some company, and I would love to catch up with you.”
Holly was trying not to giggle. “I would love to. There’s a little Mexican taqueria just a block from here… If you’re in the mood for that.”
“I’m in the mood,” Gunner said. “Thirty minutes?”
She threw back her head and laughed. “Thirty minutes it is. I’ll shop fast.”
“I drive a black Mustang GT,” Gunner said.
“White Chevy SUV. Meet you there,” Holly said.
Gunner watched until she was out of sight before he made himself refocus and finish what he’d come to do. Today had been rough, but this unexpected meeting and asking her for a date before they’d barely said hello could be excused because of their past relationship.
Granted, she’d been the pesky little kid who trailed his every step, but she was no longer a pesky kid. She was drop-dead gorgeous. At that point, all of his walls went up and his warning system kicked in. It was no big deal. Just a meal with someone from home.
* * *
Gunner was at the taqueria when Holly entered the parking lot. She made one sweep through the cars before finding a place to park, and then tried not to run when she went to meet him.
“This is the best thing that’s happened to me in ages, and I can smell that grilling meat from here,” she said.
“Smells like a Texas barbeque,” Gunner said as he took her by the hand and walked her across the parking lot and into the little café. They were seated quickly, handed menus, and turned in their drink orders, then took the time to look—really look—at each other.
“Sorry for staring,” Gunner said. “You’re just…so beautiful. I’m trying to find the kid I knew in that amazing face, and the only thing left that’s really familiar is your hair.”
“It’s not red,” she said.
He laughed. “Oh, I remember the rule. It’s auburn, right?”
She laughed. “You did remember.”
“I remember you shouting at the catcher every day because he called you ‘red on the head’ and it made you mad.”
She was still smiling. “The whole team gave me grief, but I loved being the bat girl. I got to hang out with all the cute guys at practice and at games. Made my girlfriends so jealous.”
Gunner couldn’t stop smiling. Their coach used to call her the little rattle-bucket, because she also never stopped talking, but she’d been a good sport about getting teased.
“The waitress is heading our way. Do you know what you want to eat?”
She nodded. “Shrimp tacos on flour tortillas. Chips and queso.”
“Sounds good to me, too,” he said.
The waitress took their orders and soon came back with their drinks and a tray with chips, salsa, and queso for the table.
“To old friends,” Gunner said as he toasted her with his drink.
“And new friendships,” she countered as she toasted him back.
They ate a couple of chips before curiosity got the best of her, and Holly asked the question she’d been dying to ask. “How is it that you have managed to stay single for all these years?”
Gunner glanced up, still chewing, which gave him the moment he needed to figure out how to answer that. “Uh… Picky, I guess.”
She nodded. “Still the loner, aren’t you?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
She fired back. “How many girls did you date in high school?”
“Well, I took Linda Carver to a school dance.”
“That wasn’t a date. It was that girl-asking-the-boy dance. I remember.”
He threw a wadded-up paper napkin at her. “Don’t blow my image. I’m the hard-nosed, take-no-prisoners cop who has the best record on the gun range, and an unbroken record on the track when we work out.”
She giggled. “Don’t worry. I always had your back. I always will. I also don’t throw away old shoes or worn-out T-shirts, so I don’t know what that says for me, either.”
Now he was laughing. A thing so rare that it almost felt like he was coming out of the dark. “I think you are good for what ails me. Do you want sopapillas?”
“Too full, but thank you,” she said.
“Maybe next time.” He glanced at the time. “We better get a move on. We’ve both got groceries in our cars, and it’s at least a forty-five-minute drive home for me.”
“About the same for me, but toward Fort Worth,” she said and began gathering up her phone and purse.
Gunner left money on the table with a sizeable tip, then walked her out the door and across the lot to her car.
“This was the best day I’ve had in forever,” Gunner said. “We have to do this again, and soon.”
“You have my number. And I’ll save room for dessert next time. Thank you for dinner. Don’t forget me, okay?”
It was the poignant tone in her voice and the blue sparkle in her eyes that got him. Before he could change his mind, he cupped his hands on her cheeks, brushed a quick kiss across her lips, and then gave a wayward curl a quick tug.
“You’re impossible to forget. Drive safe, Hollyberry. Talk to you soon,” he said.
Holly was still coming down from the shock of his mouth on her lips and allowed the use of her old childhood nickname to pass. “Yes, soon,” she said.
He opened her door, waited until she was seated and buckled in, then gave the top of her car a quick tap as she closed the door and drove away.
He knew he’d just come to a personal crossroad. Now all he had to do was figure out where to go from here, and if she was willing to go with him.