Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
AMES
The wind’s been rattling the windows at Watchfire all evening.
This isn’t the usual errant, mischievous spring gusts either.
It’s a constant, shifting howl. The kind of wind that knocks things loose and fucks them up—like the hopeful “Spring Ahead!” banner outside Stagecoach Books, which got dragged through a puddle of muddy slush and deposited on my side of the street.
The kind that invades my brain and makes my thoughts swirl too. The kind I can’t ignore.
Or, you know, maybe I’m just losing my mind.
Either-or, really.
I throw my pencil down onto a printed stack of last month’s liquor invoices and push my palms into my eyes. It’s been a long day, a long week, a long… I don’t even know.
“Holy crap,” someone out in the dining room says as the wind shuts the door with an audible rattle .
I hear Jana’s voice greeting the newcomer, but I don’t look up until I hear the kitchen door pushed open and Holden’s voice calling, “Ames? Where are you?”
“Playing hide-and-seek,” I say drily. “Bet you can’t find me.”
Holden appears in the doorway to my office a second later in his sheriff’s uniform.
His hair—a little lighter than mine and usually so Ken-doll perfect—is now a mass of windblown cowlicks.
Coupled with his smooth cheeks and cute freckled nose, the hair makes him look about fourteen—like he ’s the baby Axford, not me—which is, of course, why he’s usually so vain about it.
Gotta look the part of the competent, in-charge sheriff at all times.
Ordinarily, I’d grab my camera to capture how unserious he looks and send it to the family chat, but tonight, I can’t be bothered.
“You found me after all.” I lean back in my chair. “Must be all that fancy training you got at policeman summer camp.”
Holden deposits himself in the straight-backed chair on the other side of my desk and slides down so he can stretch out his long legs.
“Don’t give me shit right now. I just worked a ten-hour shift that ended with Maryanne Kealy claiming an empty LaCroix box ‘doing thirty miles an hour’ slammed into her windshield and caused her to mow down all the Easter decorations in the Beechams’ front yard. ”
“Not Maeve Beecham’s prized bunnies!” I gasp in mock horror. “The ones she made out of… wine crates, was it? And named after the characters from Little Women ? ”
“Flattened like roadkill,” he deadpans. “Even little Beth.”
I laugh out loud. “Damn. Why is it always poor Beth?”
“Fuck Beth. Save your sympathy for poor me ,” Holden says, aggrieved.
“Ms. Kealy would like me to find the origin of the LaCroix box to prove the incident wasn’t her fault.
‘Get some fingerprints off it , like on TV, ’ she says.
Imagine me spending an hour of my life trying to explain that this isn’t CSI: Winsome. ”
“So naturally, you came right here after that because I’m your favorite brother, and the very sight of me cheers you immeasurably.” I nod. “That tracks.”
Holden flashes me big, innocent eyes. “You are my favorite brother, Ames. My very, very favorite. Ignore anything Beckett or True might say to the contrary. And it has nothing to do with you being the very best chef in the whole wide world, or the way that my stomach is currently digesting itself because it’s so empty.
It’s because you’re generous. And loving.
And if it just so happens that making food is your love language, and eating food is mine …
well, that just shows why we get along so well. ”
I roll my eyes. “You’re so full of shit.” But I stand and wave him toward the kitchen anyway, since fuck knows I wasn’t being productive in here. “Come on and I’ll make you something. You can keep me company.”
“What a wonderful idea that I absolutely did not have myself,” Holden says as he pushes to his feet. He towers over me, which is wildly annoying… and would be more annoying still if he didn’t also tower over our older brothers.
Just as we’re about to leave the office, I turn back and grab my phone from my desk, jamming it into my pocket .
“Expecting an important message?” Holden bats his eyelashes. “Perhaps from a certain adorkable science teacher?”
My cheeks heat. “If you must know, I’m on call tonight. We’re always supposed to have a senior person around, just in case, but Robbie’s busy tonight, and Hugh’s been down with the flu for nearly a week, so I’ve been temporarily upgraded.”
“Ah. What’s Robbie up to?”
“Couldn’t tell you,” I lie.
We head into the kitchen. The dinner rush tonight wasn’t much of a rush since it’s a cold and blustery Wednesday, so Jana’s taking care of the dining room, and I sent Xenia home early. Since we’re closing up in a few minutes, Rocco’s already got his station clean and tomorrow’s prep work done.
“Sheriff Axford,” Rocco greets Holden with excessive formality and the kind of flirty, knowing look that says my brother and my cook have seen each other naked.
“Chef Reyes,” Holden says in exactly the same tone.
“Gross,” I mutter to no one in particular.
“Huh?” Rocco blinks away from Holden and gives me a polite frown.
“Nothing. You can leave whenever you’re ready, Rocco.” I pat his shoulder. “And tell Jana to lock up on your way out, would you? I think we’re done for tonight.”
“You sure, boss?” Rocco asks as I pull my apron from the hook where I left it earlier. “I can stay. I wouldn’t mind… making Sheriff Axford something.”
I snort. “I’m sure you wouldn’t. But, see, I’m the sheriff’s very favorite brother—feel free to tell the others—and food is my love language, so I’m afraid it’s got to be me.” I shake my fist at the ceiling. “Damn it all.”
Rocco laughs, and after another secret smile at Holden, he grabs his coat and leaves.
“I never thought I’d see the day, Ames Axford,” Holden says with a sad, accusatory headshake once we’re alone. “You’re a cockblocker.”
“Am not.” I roll my eyes as I take stock of tonight’s leftovers. “Roast beef sandwich? Pesto pasta? Avgolemono soup?”
He ignores me. “It’s a sad state of affairs,” he says, fetching a metal stool from under one of the prep tables and sitting himself down, “when you’ve got a hot teacher tutoring you but can’t let the rest of us get any action.”
I huff out a breath. “Sandwich, pasta, soup, Holden.”
“It’s a breach of the bro-code in every sense of the?—”
“Holden. Which. Do. You. Want?”
He blinks at me. “Wait, that was a question? I assumed you meant you were making me all three.” He flutters his eyelashes. “No?”
I shake my head. “You’re the absolute worst.”
“What? I’m hungry!”
“You should see a doctor.” I make sure the pasta water is still boiling and start pulling things out of the fridge because of course I’m going to feed my brother, even though he’s a pain in the ass. “It’s alarming how much you eat.”
“Pfft. Lies . Robbie eats way more than me, and you know it. Call him right now. He’ll testify.”
“No.” I dump a double portion of soup into another pot and set it to heat .
“Okay, more likely, he’ll come over himself and challenge me to an eating contest,” Holden concedes. “Which just goes to show?—”
“ Nothing . It shows nothing. Robbie wouldn’t come over because he and Lissa are off on a date.” I wave a hand vaguely and grab a loaf of bread. “Listening to a band they might want for their wedding.”
“Ah.”
The single syllable reeks of smugness, and my spine goes rigid. I allow for the possibility that Holden actually did learn something in his law enforcement training and that he just got me to confess something.
Motherfucker .
“There’s no ah , Holden. Don’t ah me,” I say, pointing the knife I’d been using to slice sourdough in his general direction. “Understand?”
Holden doesn’t look amused anymore. He doesn’t even give me shit about knife safety or “threatening an officer” like he does sometimes when we’re playing around. His eyes have gone soft, and his face looks concerned. Pitying, almost.
Which is way worse than shit-giving.
“I’m sorry, Ames,” he says quietly.
I want to throw the loaf of bread at him. Instead, I hack another slice off the loaf. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I hoped the whole Erick thing meant you’d moved on?—”
“Drop it,” I demand. “Or I will call Ms. Kealy with a hot tip about getting DNA off cardboard, and you’ll never hear the end of it.”
“—and now you’re dating Auden, I thought. ”
“I am dating Auden,” I agree. “In fact, we were just out tonight, eating dinner at the Thai place on Route 2. Great curry.”
I stop slicing when I realize I’ve cut enough for half a dozen sandwiches and lift my gaze to his.
“It’s going well, for your information. I like him a lot, and he… likes me too. There’s a lot of liking happening.”
“Ah,” Holden says.
I narrow my eyes and grab a tomato from the basket on the counter, testing its weight in my hand. “Make that sound again, Sheriff. I dare you.”
He holds up both hands to ward off attack. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It was a sound of acknowledgment. And hunger. You like Auden, he likes you. Lots of passionate, mutual… liking.”
I set the tomato down and start slicing it. “This was only our… fourth date, I think? Because we’re both really busy, and our schedules don’t always line up. But other than that, we’re great together.”
Except for the part where Auden was very up-front even before our first date that he didn’t want to “rush” into a physical relationship, and I feel a little bit like I’m in junior high when he drops me at my door with a kiss good night.
Except for the part where I keep thinking about the man I’m not supposed to want.
“Auden’s perfect for me,” I say firmly. “He’s hot. He’s smart. He’s funny. He’s a great kisser. He knows what he wants from a relationship. He’s an adventurous eater. He tells good stories. And we have a ton of fun when we’re together.”
“Excellent. ”
“It is.”
“So, then, what’s the problem?”
I slap sauce on the bread. “There isn’t one. I refuse to let there be one.”