13. Elyse
CHAPTER 13
Elyse
HARMLESS LITTLE PRANKS
PRESENT
S omething about my office feels wrong, though I can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s not something obvious—more like a sixth sense nagging at me.
I glance around, taking inventory. Calendar? Meticulously organized and untouched. Framed photographs, including the mugshot? Exactly as I left them. Perfectly curated decor? Immaculate, as always.
Still, the unease lingers. I scan the room again, slower this time, but everything looks perfectly in place. Maybe it’s all in my head. Shaking it off, I settle into my chair and power up my computer.
That’s when I see it.
Those little shits.
My monitors. The images on both screens are flipped upside down. How?
I stare in disbelief for a moment, fucking interns. I thought they looked a little too smug when I came in this morning, but I chalked it up to their excitement for spring break.
Ever since the mugshot incident, they’ve been pulling harmless little pranks. At first, it was annoying—between my siblings, I get enough grief without adding them to the mix. But after a while, I started to feel like a grumpy old witch, ruining their fun. Besides, it’s all good-natured, and I have to admit, they’re pretty creative.
“Faith!” I call out. “How the hell am I supposed to fix this?”
I’ve deemed Faith the leader of the three since she seems to be the most responsible.
Instead of Faith, Ben strolls in, hands in his pockets, a devious smile plastered across his face.
“What seems to be the problem, boss?” he asks, all mock innocence.
I level him with a frown. “You know exactly what the problem is.”
He bites back a laugh, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, that. Yeah, you’re gonna want to press Ctrl + Alt + Down Arrow to flip it back. Unless you’d prefer to work upside down—might be good for blood flow.”
“Ben,” I warn, but he’s already crossing the room, stepping behind my desk to fix it himself.
I reluctantly scoot back to give him room, but it’s not enough distance to stop me from nearly choking on his cologne.
Young boys and their cheap cologne.
“You know,” I start, inching away even more. “You weren’t my first pick when it came to hiring interns,” I grouse, watching as his fingers fly across the keyboard.
In truth, I felt a little strange hiring a male. Especially one who isn’t interested in working in the wedding industry. But he needed the hours, and I needed someone savvy on the computer. So far it seems to be working out, even if he is a little Dennis the Menace at times.
“Oh, I’m well aware,” he says, not even looking up.
“But I’ve got to admit,” I continue, “your computer skills are useful. Too bad you use them for evil.”
He glances up with a smirk, eyes giving me a once-over. “I wouldn’t call it evil. I just like keeping things interesting.”
I shake my head, unable to suppress a small grin. “That you do.”
With a few keystrokes, the screens return to normal. Ben steps back, looking way too pleased with himself.
“Anything else I can do for you?” he asks, his tone overly polite.
“Yeah,” I say dryly. “Tell Faith she owes me coffee for letting this happen on her watch.”
Ben chuckles. “Will do, boss.”
As he heads for the door, I call after him, “And I’m going to need a tutorial so I can mess with my brother’s monitors.”
“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not charging you.” Ariana swats my card away from the reader and slides a sixteen-ounce latte into my hands.
I needed an afternoon pick me up after one of my bride’s had a meltdown with me over gold chia chairs being the wrong shade of gold. She wanted a hideous yellow-gold, whereas the ones I already have on hand are a brassy-gold, much more elegant. It took an hour to convince her I was right without making her think I was trying to convince her of anything. I swear this job is two parts therapist, one part actual wedding planning .
“I’m trying to be supportive, and you won’t let me,” I say, exasperated.
“You being here is support enough.”
Ariana is the baby of the family—technically. She’s a twin, but Layla, her other half, managed to beat her into the world by a whole twelve minutes. She smiles in that soft way that makes her dimples show, and dusts her flour-covered hands on her apron.
Layla is more like me. It’s not unusual for the two of us to be impulsive, speak without thinking, or do something completely rash just for the thrill of it. But Ariana is nothing like us. She’s the calm to our chaos, pure goodness wrapped in an apron. She’s the one you go to when life falls apart and you need a steady shoulder to lean on. Her hugs could fix anything, and she pours every ounce of that sweetness and care into her baking.
I take a sip of the latte, savoring the rich, creamy warmth. “You’re too good, you know that? Makes the rest of us look bad.”
Ariana grins, tying her apron tighter around her waist. “Someone has to balance out the family. Now, sit down and let me grab you a scone before Layla comes in and steals them all. I made the cranberry-orange ones you like.”
She wanders off to the back, and I settle into an empty bistro table. It’s quiet today, as expected—once Spring Release weekend hits, though, it’ll be packed until winter. Spring Release marks the local wineries’ big reveal of new vintages, and it’s considered the unofficial kickoff to tourist season. My family’s winery is usually the main attraction and draws in crowds from all over the country.
I stare out the window facing Main Street while I sip on my drink. Since it’s finally feeling like spring, large hanging pots, overflowing with colorful flowers, adorn the lampposts lining the cobblestone sidewalks. The storefronts are decorated with window box arrangements, drawing attention to new window displays. Everyone can smell tourist season coming, doing everything they can to generate business. If there’s one thing I love about my small town, she knows how to put on a show. Red Mountain is easily the cutest town in the county, and even though the younger version of me turned my nose up at the thought of calling Red Mountain home forever, the older, wiser version of me today knows it’s a little slice of heaven.
The bell on the front door jingles, forcing my eyes to rove over as a man walks in wearing an olive-green sheriff’s uniform. My breathing falters as I hold it, only to release it when I realize it’s not Dominic, it’s Ryker. A rush of disappointment hits me, but I shake it off. Considering how we left things the other day, he’s the last person I should be hoping to run into.
Ryker flashes me a friendly smile as he approaches. I stand, meeting him halfway for a brief hug. It isn’t until I pull away that I see he’s not alone. Morales is with him. She ignores me, brushing past us to the counter to place her order.
Okay then. Kind of a bitch move.
Ignoring her obvious snub, I focus my attention back on Ryker. “How’s it going, Sheriff Tapert ?”
He blushes slightly, obviously still not used to the title. “Oh, you know, same stuff, different day.” he says, cheerfully as he joins me at my table.
I’ve always liked Ryker. Most people do—he’s proof of that, being the youngest sheriff ever elected in the county. He also holds a special place in my heart since his wedding was one of the first I planned after taking over as the winery’s event coordinator.
He married Claire Landry—now Tapert—five years ago, and they’ve been a beloved couple in town ever since. I felt awful when I heard about their struggles with infertility, but recently heard the good news that Claire is expecting. She’s due in just a few months.
“Congratulations, by the way.” I offer him a smile. “I heard about Claire.”
His face lights up with pride. “Thank you. We’re pretty excited. It’s been a long time coming.”
There’s a glimmer of something that looks like sadness but it’s gone in an instant, replaced by his usual positive smile.
Ariana returns with a tray of scones and sets one down for each of us.
“Afternoon, Sheriff,” Ariana greets, her face blushing pink, and Ryker tips his head at her.
I take a bite even though they’re piping hot. “How’s Claire doing? I feel like I haven’t seen her in months,” I ask Ryker, talking around a mouthful of scone.
His shoulders drop as his mouth presses into a line. “Well, the baby is good. Strong and healthy, but Claire has been sicker than hell. The doctor diagnosed her with HG, she’s practically been on bed rest.”
A bittersweet curve of my lips appears as I look at him. “I’m sorry to hear that, but happy the baby is staying healthy. If you two need anything at all let me know. I’m great at organizing meal trains and all sorts of stuff like that.”
He smiles wistfully. “Thanks. I just might take you up on that one of these days. You’ve always been so great to us.” His hands clasp over the table as he regards me thoughtfully. “I’m glad we ran into each other, I’ve been meaning to have a chat with you.”
I take a small sip of my latte. “Oh, yeah? What about?”
His head lolls to the side. He’s smiling, but it’s strained. “I wanted to formally apologize to you over the arrest. I already spoke with Dominic, reprimanding him. You’re a respected member of the community, and the entire matter could’ve been handled differently.”
I don’t like the idea of Ryker reprimanding Dominic. I may not agree with the whole arrest situation, but Dominic followed the law—that much I know. “I appreciate the apology, but it’s completely unnecessary. I had a warrant out and Dominic was just doing his job. It’s water under the bridge now.”
Ryker shakes his head with a light chuckle. “Can’t help but defend him, can you?”
“I’m not defending him,” I say, sounding very much defensive.
His smile turns knowing. “Whatever you say. We all know it’s only a matter of time.”
Before I can respond, his phone rings. He answers, only giving a few ‘mm-hmms’ in response before rushing to stand. “Morales,” he calls out. “We’ve got a call.”
Morales nods immediately, slapping a twenty on the counter as the barista hands her a drink.
On his way out, Ryker tosses me a wave, shooting me an apologetic smile.
“That man is going to be such a DILF,” Ariana says quietly, checking out Ryker as he and Morales jog across the street to a cruiser.
I whip my head at her, shocked little miss innocent would say such a thing. “Ariana! He’s married.”
“What?” She laughs. “I can still look. It’s not like I would actually act on anything.”
My head cocks as I stare at her wide-eyed. “He’s too old for you. You shouldn’t even be looking at guys his age.”
Ariana is only twenty-two, a child if you ask me.
Her face twists. “He’s only a little older than you, and like I said, I’m not actually going to do anything. It’s like having a celebrity crush.”
She busies herself, setting scones in the display case, avoiding looking at me. Ariana has never brought a guy home before, and I worry about all the creeps out there, just chomping at the bit to take advantage of her naivety. The fact she admitted Ryker is attractive has my head spinning, worried she’s setting her sights on unavailable men to avoid anything real.
It’s not that I disagree. Ryker is handsome, in an—American-apple-pie-could-run-for-president—kind of way. Blond hair, cut high and tight, blue eyes, and he clearly puts in a lot of time at the gym. He’s classically good-looking and rarely lacked for company when he was single. But I’ve never seen him as anything more than a friend.
I’m not sure why my stomach is souring. It’s not as if he would ever leave Claire, and Ariana is way too shy to act on a crush, inappropriate or not.
“Just stick to guys your own age. We both know Layla is probably going to show up one day with a guy three times her age, and Dad will lose his shit. You have to be the good one.”
She spins to face me, rolling her eyes, looking like the child she is. “I know. I’m always the good one.”
PSA Dad’s birthday is coming up. We need to start brainstorming gift ideas.
SHANE
Easy. Boys trip to Vegas
LAYLA
Just because you want a free trip to Vegas doesn’t mean that’s what Dad wants. You’re dumb.
GAVIN
Gift card?
ETHAN
I second the gift card idea.
A gift card isn’t a present.
We want to give him something meaningful.
SHANE
Ok then what’s your stellar idea genius
We could all pitch in for a tandem kayak so he and Mom can go out on the river together.
SHANE
BOO. Pass. Vegas or bust!
ETHAN
He has a bad shoulder.
ARIANA
What about a weekend getaway? Leavenworth?
LAYLA
What Ariana said
SHANE
How rich are you guys? I can barely afford my own vacation.
LAYLA
Says the guy pushing for Vegas.
SHANE
It was worth a shot
ETHAN
Just tell me what I owe. I don’t have time for hours of back and forth texting.
GAVIN
Ditto.
I toss my phone onto my desk with a groan. It pings again, but I don’t even bother looking. This is exactly why I usually just handle this stuff myself. I ask for their input, and get nothing but bad ideas, sarcasm, and zero cooperation.
They’ll complain later when I pick something out on my own, but what choice do I have? Dad’s birthday isn’t going to plan itself, and someone has to step up and make sure plans are executed. If I don’t handle it, no one else will.
The buzz of the air conditioning is the only sound as I close my laptop and stretch my arms above my head. It’s the tail end of the day, and I’m the last one here. Besides Ethan, but he’s all the way over in his wing.
The interns left a mess in the break room with their green juice—again. I decided to let it slide this time. My patience isn’t endless, but it’s been a long week, and I don’t have the energy to play the role of the office drill sergeant today.
Grabbing my bag, I power off the lights and lock the door behind me, my heels clicking against the pavement as I make my way to my car in the parking lot. The sky is painted with streaks of orange and pink, the kind of sunset that would make my mom gasp and reach for her phone.
As I get closer to my car, something catches my eye—a piece of paper tucked under the windshield wiper.
I frown. A flyer?
I pull the paper free, my fingers brushing against the cool glass of the windshield. It’s not a flyer. It’s a note.
Elyse, you have me tied up in knots. One day, I’ll repay the favor.
My brow furrows as I read it again. The handwriting is unfamiliar, neat but rushed, like the writer was in a hurry. A chill creeps up my spine .
What the fuck?
It’s probably the interns. It has to be.
They’ve been ramping up their pranks lately, and this has their fingerprints all over it. They’re probably trying to freak me out after their upside-down monitor stunt earlier today.
I glance around the parking lot, half-expecting to catch one of them crouched behind a bush, snickering. But there’s no one, just a mostly empty parking lot, looking slightly eerie as the last lights of day start to disappear beyond the horizon.
Sliding in behind the wheel, I toss the note onto the passenger seat. It lands face up, the words glaring at me. The phrase is strange, like maybe it’s a joke or a pun but I’m missing the punchline.
I take a steadying breath. It’s just a prank. They’re kids with too much free time and not enough supervision. My stomach feels uneasy, the way it does when the house creaks in the middle of the night, but I shove the feeling down.
Once I get on the main road, I crank up the music, letting the familiar beat drown out my thoughts.
But as I continue driving, the note lingers in the back of my mind, unsettling in a way I can’t fully explain. And for the first time in a long while, I double-check that my car doors are locked after I pull into my driveway.
It’s probably nothing. Still, as I step into the house and bolt the door behind me, a pit in my stomach grows.