Chapter 8
Hugo
“Stop drooling on me.”
I shove Ragnar back over my shoulder while I try to navigate the streets of Silence.
Because my seat is shoved so far back to accommodate my legs, the dog is able to reach the backrest with his front legs from the rear of the cruiser.
Apparently, he enjoys looking out the front window and shows his enthusiasm by panting in my ear.
I was surprised when Bess called me a couple of hours ago.
She’d managed to get through the breakfast crowd with Ragnar quiet in her apartment upstairs, which was already an improvement on what happened yesterday, but after taking him for a quick pee break, he indicated he’d had enough alone time and was ready for some action.
She said she’d put him in her office with his bed and a few toys, but he wouldn’t stop howling unless someone was with him.
I was ready for another coffee anyway, and swung by the coffee shop to pick him—and a decent cuppa—up, stealing a quick kiss in the privacy of Bess’s tiny office.
I took advantage of the fact she’d been too flustered to protest. She made it clear again last night she is definitely not opposed to kissing me.
By indulging every chance I get, I’m hoping she won’t have a chance to convince herself she doesn’t want what is happening between us.
Ironically, it’s distracting me as well.
I’d hoped to maybe probe her a little about her brother’s call, and never got around to it last night.
I wasn’t going to broach the subject when I swung by Strange Brew, she seemed rattled enough as it was, but perhaps I’ll get an opportunity tonight when I return the dog.
I drive past the hospital, making my way back to the station, when I notice someone sitting at the picnic table in the small park across the street. I recognize the parka.
“Hey, buddy, wanna get some fresh air?”
Ragnar is virtually vibrating when I clip on his leash and lift him down from the back seat.
He could probably jump, but since he’s still growing, I don’t want him to hurt himself.
His nose hits the ground the moment his paws do, frantically sniffing all the scents, as I start walking toward the seated man.
Hearing our approach, Clem lifts his head. Ragnar, who probably thought that still figure was part of the scenery, starts barking at the sudden movement.
“Ragnar, quiet.”
A hint of a smile briefly softens the strain on the man’s face.
“Let me guess…a Buck Wilson special?” he teases, holding out his hand for the dog to sniff.
Ragnar takes it as an invitation to jump up on him to get better acquainted.
“Yes, but he’s not mine,” I clarify. “This unruly creature belongs to Bess.”
Clem chuckles. “Bess? Who’d have thought? Bet she’s got her hands full with this one.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” I confirm, sitting down across from him. “Which is why he’s with me during her Saturday rush.”
“Ahh.”
He nods slowly, a glint of speculation in his expression I choose to ignore. Not that I feel the need to keep what’s developing between Bess and me a secret, but I also don’t owe anyone an explanation. Except perhaps Carson, which is something I should probably tackle before people start yapping.
I jerk my head at the hospital across the street. “How’s Chance?”
The response takes a while in coming as a myriad of emotions flit over the man’s face.
“He’s…a mess. I mean, his wounds will heal, but fuck, man, he’s a mess. Withdrawal is taking a toll. Whenever his sedation wears off, he starts hallucinating and gets violent, so they have to strap him down to administer more. It’s pretty hard to watch.”
I bet. I feel for Clem, who has no family other than his alcoholic brother.
“I’m sorry, man,” I commiserate.
I’d secretly hoped perhaps we’d be able to get some information from Chance, but that’s clearly not in the cards at this time.
“Yeah, well, I guess if he comes out the other end clean, all this will have been worth it.”
Except it’s rare that addicts of any kind stay off the juice or the drugs when sobriety was forced on them. From what I understand—and I’m sure Clem knows this as well—the one most important ingredient in successfully kicking addiction is making that choice to get clean.
“Have you been here the whole time?”
He shrugs. “Pretty much. Not like I’ve got anywhere else to be.”
My heart goes out to him, he sounds pretty defeated.
“What’s happening with the shop? Did you hear from your insurance company?”
He scoffs, “Yeah, they sent by an adjuster, but nothing will happen in the short term. They already know the fire was arson, per the fire inspector’s report, so they’ll likely wait for the outcome of the investigation to make sure it wasn’t me or my brother setting it.”
I was afraid of that. My guess is damages would total well north of a million—there is nothing but an outside shell left—and I bet they’re not in a hurry to pay that kind of money. Damn insurance company will likely stall as long as they can.
“That’s tough, my friend. Are you looking for a temporary place to set up shop?”
He shakes his head. “Nah. I mean, I could get by for simple jobs with the tools I have at home, but I only have a single garage and I doubt my neighbors would appreciate me trying to run a business from my home.”
True. Most folks in Silence would be neighborly enough to overlook the inconvenience of vehicles and noise for a little while, and I’m sure the sheriff’s department could ignore the various bylaws it would break for a short period of time, but after a few weeks that collective goodwill would surely run out.
Thinking about it, there aren’t that many places in or around town that would suit his needs.
I mean, there’s the old warehouse heading out of town toward Watts Lake, but it’s so run-down, I’m surprised it’s still standing.
I think the fire department has used it a time or two for exercises since they built their new fire station on the outskirts of town.
The old station behind our office was getting too small, with only two bays…
Wait.
“What about the old fire station?” I suggest, the solution suddenly clear in my head. “It’s got two massive bays with doors front and back, loads of storage, an entire upstairs level for offices or whatever, bathroom, kitchen. Oh, and a fuck load of parking space.”
I see the wheels start turning as his head slowly bobs.
“Doesn’t that belong to the town though?”
“It does, but it’s been empty for almost a year. I haven’t heard of any plans for it, and I’m happy to check into it for you.”
“Yeah, for sure.”
Glad to see a little more life in his eyes at my suggestion, I get to my feet. Ragnar, who was exploring as far as his leash allowed, is instantly by my side.
“I’ll let you know what I find out. Before I go, is there anything I can get you? Maybe something for dinner?”
“Thanks, but I’m good. Bess sent over some food earlier, enough for dinner as well. Only an idiot would pass up on a good woman like that.”
He delivers those wise words with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.
I chuckle and shake my head.
“Guess it’s a good thing I’m not an idiot.”
Bess
What a day.
It wasn’t even one o’clock when I ran out of my white chicken chili, I had to bake two extra batches of cornbread, and I just closed the door on my last customer at four forty-five.
I’m not sure what brought everyone out in droves, but it feels like the entire town was coming through Strange Brew today. I even had people sitting outside at the two small tables that make up my little patio.
Maybe it was the weather; it felt like the first day of spring with still a little nip in the air, but the skies were blue and the sun warmed things up nicely.
Not that I spent much time outside, other than to carry the occasional trash bag to the dumpster in the alley, but the few minutes with the warm sun on my shoulders felt good.
Silence hits me when I walk into my apartment. I miss the click of nails on the floor and the happy whimpers and pants of Ragnar greeting me. It’s amazing how fast you become accustomed to having another living creature around.
I should give Hugo a call to see how my dog is doing. I wouldn’t mind taking him for a nice walk along the river while it’s still light out. Enjoy what is left of the sunshine. Or maybe I could take him for a hike up in the mountains tomorrow.
Even though Sunday is my day off—the shop is closed—I often still spend time in the kitchen downstairs, trying out new recipes or prepping for the week to come.
It’s not that I never go out and do something, but not often on my own.
But I’m looking forward to being a little more adventurous now I have Ragnar.
A few weeks ago, Emmet was talking about a pretty trail up on Black Mountain that visited a waterfall.
I think that’s what I’ll do tomorrow. Maybe the fresh air and the peace and quiet will give me the mind space I need to figure out what to do about my brother.
He hasn’t tried to contact me after I blocked that number and, if anything, it makes me even more edgy.
But I don’t want to think about that now; dog first.
“I was just about to call you,” Hugo says when he picks up my call. “Carson tells me you guys had a busy day.”
I’ve got to give it to the kid, he worked his buns off all day without a single complaint.
“I think spring fever hit Silence. I swear everybody was out and about, and most of them stopped in at some point.”
“I noticed. I was outside at a little after four but saw you still had customers, so I went home instead.”
“Hope Ragnar is behaving. Was he okay today?”
“He’s fine. Currently asleep on my couch.”
“Aww. Let me quickly change into clothes that aren’t covered in food stains and I’ll swing by to pick him up.”
“Take your time. I’m only just heating up the grill, so dinner won’t be for at least another half hour or more.”
“Dinner?” I echo, a little unsure of what he’s suggesting, if anything.
“Yeah. Roasted potatoes, chicken breasts, and Carson is throwing together a salad. Sound good?”
“Um…”
Hugo’s soft chuckle in my ear gives me goosebumps.
“You’ve gotta eat, Bess. It’s not complicated.”
Except it is. For one thing, Carson is there, which could make things awkward. Also, it feels like this thing between us is steadily moving ahead, even when I’m still struggling to wrap my head around what is happening here.
But I can’t come up with a decent enough reason to decline, and I’m not even sure I want to.
“Okay. Give me ten minutes.”
It ends up being more like twenty by the time I pull up to the house.
Of course, the yoga pants and oversized sweater I’d planned to change into suddenly didn’t seem right, plus I had to run back down to the coffee shop to see what I could scrounge up for dessert, because one can’t arrive empty-handed.
I grab the half of a cheesecake I’d pulled from the freezer, hoping it’ll be defrosted by the time dinner is done, and make my way to the front door of the two-story home.
Funny, I’ve driven past plenty, walked up this path a couple of times, and even stood on this front porch before, but I have never actually been inside this house.
Now, with my finger on the doorbell, I can’t help wonder why I always avoided going in.
Running a business like mine is all-consuming and doesn’t leave much time for a social life, but surely I could’ve spared half an hour, or even ten minutes, at some point during the past years to come in and have that coffee or drink I was offered.
The excited barks on the other side of the door pull me out of my musings, and when it opens, I try to balance the cheesecake in the air with one hand, while greeting my rambunctious dog with the other.
“He missed you,” Hugo’s voice sounds somewhere above me as I feel the plate with dessert being plucked from my hand.
“I have to admit, I didn’t have much of a chance to miss him, but my place sure was quiet when I opened the door earlier.”
I glance up at him, meeting his warm eyes as I get to my feet. Without hesitation he tags me behind the neck with his free hand and pulls me close, ducking his head for a sweet kiss.
I freeze when I hear a soft giggle behind him that most definitely does not belong to Carson.
“Carson invited Tate over,” Hugo explains as he releases my neck. “Come on in.”
Most of the main floor of the house is open concept, so the kids—both of whom are sitting at the kitchen counter—had full view of Hugo’s welcome. Tatum seems in favor, with a big grin on her face, but Carson is wearing a more serious expression. I wonder what he’s thinking?
I wave awkwardly. “Hey, guys.”
“Hi,” Tate chirps.
But to my surprise, Carson jumps up and, like a proper host, asks, “Can I get you a drink?”
“I popped a bottle of white wine in the freezer, Bud. It should be cold enough,” Hugo informs him.
“Wine, Bess?” his son asks.
“Um…sure, please.”
When he pulls the bottle from the freezer, I recognize the label. It’s the same BC wine we had with dinner at Fusion. One glance at Hugo tells me that’s not a coincidence, and something warm unfurls in my chest. The thoughtful gesture makes me feel instantly welcome.
“Come outside with me while I keep an eye on the grill,” Hugo suggests. “It’s not that cold, have a heater going out there.”
The large deck off the kitchen is great, so is the rest of the backyard, but what steals the show is the view of the river and the mountains. This neighborhood is one of the newer subdivisions, with houses spread a fair distance apart, and backing onto the river that cuts through this valley.
“Wow. This is nice.”
Ragnar almost bowls me over in his rush to run into the yard.
“We like it.”
He casually throws a smile over his shoulder as he opens the lid of an impressive stainless-steel grill.
“You could cook half a cow on that thing,” I point out. “It’s big enough.”
“What can I say?” he returns. “In a household with two active guys, you need a big grill.” Then he adds with a wink, “Size matters.”
I shake my head at the cheesy joke, and grab the ball Ragnar drops on my feet. Tossing it toward the river, I grin watching the dog lope after it, ears flopping. I tug the edges of my cardigan closed against the definite chill in the air.
“Here,” Hugo says, coming over to wrap an arm around my shoulders.
Next, he moves me closer to an outside heater that looks more like a lamppost, and pushes me down on an outdoor couch underneath. The pillows are nice and warm on my butt. To my surprise, he goes down on his haunches in front of me, his hands on my knees as he locks eyes with me.
“If we didn’t have an audience, I could think of a thing or two to warm you up,” he rumbles in a low voice that causes an immediate physical response from me. “But for now, the heater will have to do.”
Then he gets up, drops a kiss on top of my head, and returns to the grill.
My eyes are glued to his fine ass every step.
I really like this side of him.