13. Tucker
We pulled into the dirt lot surrounding what could only be described as a graveyard of forgotten objects, all stacked in chaotic heaps that reached toward the sky. It was a sprawling junkyard, the kind of place where old, rusted-out cars and broken appliances came to die. A refrigerator without a door was leaning precariously against a pile of scrap metal, and somewhere nearby, the wind whistled through the cracked windows of an ancient RV that looked like it hadn’t moved in decades. This wasn’t just a mess—it was a maze of debris, like a hoarder’s paradise, only outside.
“Are you sure this is the right place? It doesn’t look like a house,” I muttered, eyeing the mess.
“Look there,” Dakota said, jerking her chin as we rounded a corner in the maze of junk.
Sure enough, there was a house tucked behind it all, half-hidden by the clutter. The house itself was surprisingly well-kept for the state of everything else surrounding it, but it was clear whoever lived here had a different definition of "organization" than most people.
The yard was cluttered with rusted tools, old tires, and random trinkets. There were buckets and cans stacked in haphazard piles, and several wind chimes made from what looked like old silverware hung from the porch roof, swaying lazily in the breeze. It had all the telltale signs of a hoarder, but underneath all that, the house itself looked solid.
“Now you see why it’s good I’m with you,” she said with a satisfied smile, her voice laced with amusement.
I shook my head, taking in the chaos that surrounded us. “I’m beginning to. And is this also why you apologized in advance?”
She chuckled, shaking her head. “You wish.”
I hopped out of the truck, the gravel crunching beneath my boots as I made my way to her side. Her hand was already on the door handle, ready to get out herself, but when she caught my eye through the windshield and figured out my plan, she put her hands up in mock surrender as I pulled the door open for her.
“Well, I’ll be. They breed Southern gentlemen in the Rocky Mountains?” she teased.
“Don’t you mean ‘in them there hills?’” I deadpanned, trying to suppress the grin tugging at my lips.
“Oh, you’re funny. Just wait,” she shot back.
I huffed, feigning annoyance, though her laugh was already working its way under my skin. It was the kind of laugh that made me want to hear it again, and as much as I tried to push that thought aside, it nagged at me.
Why did I care? Why was I even thinking about it? More importantly… how was I supposed to stop this feeling before it got worse?
“Who goes there?” A gravelly voice called out from somewhere within the labyrinth of junk, interrupting my thoughts.
“Shifty, it’s Kota!” she called back, turning in a slow circle as she scanned the surrounding piles of junk for any sign of the man.
“Who’d ya bring with you?” came the gruff response, closer this time.
Dakota shot me a look—a warm, playful smile that I knew spelled trouble. “This is what I apologized for,” she whispered, her eyes gleaming.
“Huh?”
“Haven’t you heard?” she called out, ignoring me. “He’s my new boyfriend. Come meet him!”
My jaw dropped. Boyfriend?
Was she messing with me just for kicks?
I shot her a look, but she only responded with a wink—one so unintentionally alluring it made my mouth go dry.
“Why?” I hissed under my breath, my unease growing by the second.
“Trust me,” she whispered back, her tone far too innocent.
Trust her? After this little stunt? I glared at her, fully ready to list all the reasons why this charade was ridiculous. What did she think she was doing? But before I could get a word out, a flash of movement caught my eye.
A man stepped out from behind a rusted refrigerator, a pitchfork clutched in his hands. His eyes, sharp and beady, darted between Dakota and me, sizing me up with a wary look.
“Boyfriend, huh?” he asked as he continued to size me up from head to toe.
“Yep. Boyfriend,” Dakota replied smoothly, sauntering over to me with an easy confidence that made the whole thing seem far too believable. She slipped her hand into mine and leaned into the role. “I’m sure you’ve heard all about it,” she added, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “You know, the way he saved me from the stray bullets in town square? It was love at first sight.”
I glanced down at her, ready to scoff at how ridiculous she sounded, but the exaggerated flutter of her eyelashes and that playful glint in her eye made it impossible to do anything but stare.
And then—it got worse. An actual, genuine smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, and before I could stop myself, I was grinning like a fool.
“Love at first sight, huh?” Shifty repeated, raising a skeptical brow as he took a step closer, the pitchfork still in hand.
I forced my smile to disappear, clearing my throat as I straightened. “Something like that,” I muttered, my voice gruffer than usual.
Dakota’s hand squeezed mine ever so slightly, and when I looked down, I saw her biting back a smile, enjoying every second of this.
Cold sweat prickled the back of my neck. What was I getting myself into?
“Uh-huh,” Shifty replied, adjusting his grip on his pitchfork. “Your boyfriend got a name?”
“Sorry, yes. Shifty, meet Tucker,” Dakota supplied before I could even open my mouth. “Tucker, this is Shifty.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, extending my free hand—the one not currently being slow-roasted between Dakota’s firm grip—to shake his. Shifty might’ve been a slight guy, but his handshake was firm, and there was no mistaking the added pressure he threw in, like he was sending me a message.
I met his grip with equal firmness, careful not to crack his bones. This guy was definitely testing me.
“What has you bringin’ him around here?” Shifty asked, his pitchfork still hanging loosely in his grip.
“The thing is, we heard you might know a little somethin’ about some pirate treasure—” Dakota started, her tone light, almost casual.
“Syd Wharton’s pirate treasure?” Shifty cut in, his eyes lighting up with recognition.
“Uh… Who’s Syd Wharton?” Dakota asked, glancing up at me as if I had the answers.
I didn’t, so I shrugged.
Shifty frowned. “He’s the one who found it.”
“But I thought—” Dakota began, but I squeezed her hand, silently telling her to stop talking.
Thankfully, she caught on and clamped her mouth shut.
Shifty raised an eyebrow, still eyeing us both with suspicion. “You thought what?”
Before Dakota could answer, a voice called out from inside the house. “Shifty! Phone’s for you!”
Shifty grumbled, tossing a look over his shoulder before turning back to us. “Y’all wanna come inside? Bernice has fresh cornbread, and I’m starvin’.”
“Sure, we’ll be right there,” Dakota said, her voice as cheerful as ever.
Shifty disappeared into the house, the screen door creaking shut behind him.
As soon as he was out of earshot, I turned to Dakota, raising our joined hands for emphasis. “Why is this necessary?” I asked, my voice low, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.
“Because clearly Shifty knows more about the treasure?—”
“That’s not what I mean,” I cut her off, giving her a pointed look. “Why is this necessary?” I wiggled our hands, then gently peeled hers off of mine with my free hand, releasing the pressure.
She chuckled dryly as she held up her hand with her fingers spread wide. “Five.”
I frowned, not following. “I’m not giving you a high five. Answer my question.”
“I’m tryin’ to! Five is the number of times today that I was asked about my new beau. Five separate people, in various states of undress, some bandaged and bleedin’, askin’ about you and me.”
“At work?”
She tilted her head. “Where else do you think I hang out with half-naked, bleedin’ people? Don’t answer that. Point is, that’s why this is necessary.”
I huffed out a breath, running a hand through my hair. “Because five people asked you about us…”
Her lips quirked into a knowing smile. “How many people asked you about me today?”
More than a few, if I was honest. But no way I was admitting that to her. Instead, I looked away, pretending to study the junkyard. The truth was, I’d stopped counting after the fifth nosy townsperson had ambushed me with questions about “having my hands on Dakota Cole in the middle of the square in broad daylight.”
It was intrusive, annoying, and professionally inconvenient. I was supposed to be in this town to ask the questions—not answer them, especially not about a non-existent relationship with a woman who seemed to enjoy making my life as complicated as possible.
“I’ll take your silence to mean you’ve had a few run-ins with the friendly neighborhood gossips?” Dakota asked, her voice smug.
“A few, yeah,” I grumbled. “But what good does it do to encourage them by pretending we’re a couple?”
“Lemme paint a picture for you right quick. Imagine you’re just mindin’ your own business, tryin’ to find some long-lost pirate treasure…”
“Perfectly normal,” I muttered under my breath.
“And then—wham! Someone locks you in a closet with no one to keep you company but me.”
I stared at her, completely lost. “Uh…”
“Or,” she continued, ignoring my confusion, “maybe you’re strollin’ around Main Street when a fluffy lil’ troublemaker fakes a Lassie scenario. You follow her, thinkin’ you’re gonna save Timmy from the well, only for it to be me sittin’ there at the end of that wild goat chase.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling the start of a headache. “Why would?—”
“Or, and this might be the most likely scenario of all,” she interrupted, her grin widening, “you can’t go anywhere in this town without someone bringin’ me up. They’d either be talkin’ straight to you or just loudly chat at the next table, but you’d never do a thing in this town without thinkin’, hearin’, or talkin’ about me.”
I sighed, exasperated. “Because you’re apparently obsessed with me?”
“No, you scary summer child, because these people are obsessed with us. Trust me, Tuck, when this town sets out to play matchmaker, ain’t nobody gets out alive.”
Her words sounded ridiculous—like something out of a rom-com or small-town fairy tale—but the look on her face said she was dead serious. I stared at her, wondering how on earth I’d ended up here, navigating a situation that felt more like amateur hour at a county fair than anything resembling a professional investigation.
“Why do I feel like I’ve stumbled into a Stephen King novel? Is there an invisible dome around the town, too?” I quipped, trying to mask how out of place I felt.
“There might as well be if the Charlotte Oaks Book Club ladies think there’s a match to be made. If we don’t take the wind out of their sails by pretendin’ we’re already together, it’ll only be a matter of time before the town meetings would start.”
“To discuss us?” I asked, skeptical but also starting to grasp how seriously she took this.
“You bet.”
“Because there isn’t anything more important for them to worry about?” I asked, incredulous.
“Hey, don’t make the Charlotte Oakians sound like they’re not playin’ with a full deck. It’s just… Well, when folks around here smell love in the air, it’s basically blood in the water. Ain’t nothin’ more important than that.”
I gave her a long look. This town sounded like something out of a fever dream, but she didn’t seem to be joking.
“I know it may seem silly to an outsider, but you’ve gotta understand. Charlotte Oaks was founded on family values. And while a lot of small towns only care about haltin’ progress or keepin’ newcomers from changin’ everythin’ they hold dear, these people care about fillin’ our community with more happy families who will raise their kids here, take them to the Harvest Festival and the Chili Cookoff and even the synchronized grillin’ events.”
I blinked, trying to wrap my head around the words synchronized grilling, but Dakota wasn’t done.
“I know I promised I wouldn’t strangle you with my roots, but after today, I figure the best way to make sure the town doesn’t band together to do it for me is to lay down and play dead.”
“You really think they’ll leave us alone if they think we’re together.” It wasn’t a question. Clearly, she did. But I needed a minute to get on board with this.
“I know they will. Charlotte Oakians don’t take no for an answer, but if we’ve already said yes, they’ll find a new challenge.”
Her logic was baffling, but there was a strange kind of sense in it. I wasn’t used to letting someone else take charge, especially when it came to digging for information. In my line of work, I asked the questions, made the calls, and played things by my rules. But this town? It was its own beast. And Dakota? She was its unofficial guide. As much as I hated to admit it, I needed her to navigate this particular situation.
“Fine. We’ll play dead. Now, can we please go inside and find out about this—I can’t believe I’m about to say this—pirate treasure?”
She grinned, clearly thrilled that I’d conceded. “Let’s!”
We headed toward Shifty’s house, the path taking us deeper into what could only be described as a hoarder’s paradise. Rusted car parts, busted appliances, and towers of forgotten junk lined every corner of the property, making it feel like we were navigating through an obstacle course of scrap metal and old memories.
The house itself wasn’t much better. The clutter spilled from the yard and onto the porch, which was barely visible beneath stacks of old newspapers, boxes, and other random items. But beneath the mess, I could tell the house had been well-kept once. The wooden siding, though weathered, was still intact, and the windows were clean—at least, the ones that weren’t covered by piles of random junk.
“Okay, where were we?” Dakota asked as we finally sat around the cluttered kitchen table, trying to ignore the sheer volume of stuff packed into every corner of the room.
“Syd’s treasure,” Shifty said, sitting down across from us, his wiry frame nearly swallowed by the mountains of hoarded possessions around him.
“So, Syd found the treasure… and then what did he do with it?” Dakota asked, her voice casual but focused, clearly trying to keep the conversation moving in the right direction.
I shifted in my seat, the PI in me bristling. I wasn’t used to being sidelined like this. Normally, I’d be the one asking the questions, guiding the conversation. But every time I so much as moved, Shifty’s beady eyes flicked toward me, his suspicion obvious. He wasn’t going to open up if I pushed. Dakota had him talking, so for now, I had to let her handle it.
“Gave it to Roy, of course,” Shifty said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “ Safe -keepin’, if you catch my drift.”
Dakota and I exchanged a glance, her expression matching the uneasy feeling settling in my gut. I wanted to jump in, press for more details, but Shifty was watching me like a hawk.
“Why would Roy need to keep it safe?” Dakota continued, doing her best to keep her tone light. “Didn’t Syd want to do anythin’ with it? Like… I dunno, spend it?”
Shifty chuckled, the sound low and gravelly. “Eventually, sure. But in the meantime, he needed to keep it away from a certain fella who’d already tried to snatch it from him a time or two, and there ain’t nobody better at keepin’ things safe than ol’ Roy. May he rest in peace. Sure is a shame Syd didn’t manage to get his loot back before the old man kicked the bucket—rest his soul. Doubt he’ll ever find it now.”
“Dakota Jolene!” a feminine voice rang out, cutting through the musty air.
I snapped my head toward the voice, but there was too much debris in the way to get a clear view. Judging by the commanding tone, though, I assumed it was Bernice, Shifty’s wife. My suspicion was confirmed when she wound her way through the towers of boxes, old gadgets, and junk, a landline phone pressed to her ear, the cord trailing behind her like some sort of tether to the past.
“Yeah, Bernice?” Dakota replied casually, as if she got summoned like that every day.
Bernice pressed the receiver tighter against her ear, her voice booming. “Your momma says you better be bringin’ that new boyfriend of yours round the house for supper. If you don’t, you won’t be eatin’ tonight.”
My eyes flicked to Dakota, catching the way her cheeks flushed as she looked my way, clearly flustered. “Tell Momma I said he’ll be there.”
I blinked. “I will?”
“Darn tootin’ will,” Shifty muttered, his beady eyes narrowing as he gave me a stare that could peel paint off a wall.
Great. Now, I was not only playing the silent statue, but I’d somehow been roped into playing Dakota’s fake boyfriend for her entire family.
Dakota quickly jumped in, trying to steer the conversation back. “Shifty, what else can you tell us about the treasure or the man who tried to steal it from Syd?”
Shifty scratched his chin thoughtfully, as if digging through the recesses of his mind. “Not much, just that the guy was supposed to go with Syd that summer when he went out chasin’ ghost stories in the Caribbean. For some reason, he bailed at the last minute. They met in some chat room back in the day and did a bunch of research together. They were plannin’ to meet up, do the hunt on the high seas, and split the gold fifty-fifty.”
I watched as Dakota processed that, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern. She was good at this—keeping her cool, playing the part, asking the right questions. Normally, I’d be the one doing that, but something about this situation had thrown me off balance. The longer we sat here, the more I realized I was out of my element. But Dakota? She was thriving.
“So when the other guy didn’t show, Syd went out to find it himself?” Dakota clarified.
“Sure did,” Shifty said, nodding slowly. “And it worked out great for him, too, until that jerk of a partner tried to kill him to get the gold. That’s how Roy ended up with it. Syd knew Roy could keep it safe.”
My jaw tightened as I listened, the details clicking together in my mind like pieces of a puzzle. Dakota was doing the talking, but I was taking mental notes, piecing together this story that was quickly turning from an odd case into something much darker.
“Why are you askin’ about all this now?” Shifty’s voice broke through my thoughts, his eyes narrowing again as he looked between us. “Does that mean you found Syd?”
“Syd’s… missin’?” Dakota asked, the surprise clear in her voice.
I scratched my jaw, my mind racing. “You’re sure you don’t know the name of the other guy?”
Shifty sighed, shaking his head. “Nope. I might’ve at one point, but shoot, this all happened darn near twenty years ago.”
“That’s how long Syd’s been missin’ too?” Dakota pressed.
“Oh, no, Syd’s been around,” Shifty replied, waving his hand dismissively. “But he went missin’ right around the time Roy passed on. We missed him at the funeral… and from there, he hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”
I exchanged a glance with Dakota. This was getting weirder by the second.
After a few more minutes of small talk and awkward exchanges, we finally wrapped up our conversation with Shifty and Bernice. As much as I wanted to rush out of there, I kept my movements slow and polite, knowing Dakota had a way of navigating these small-town interactions that I clearly lacked.
By the time we made it back to the truck, I could feel the tension easing from my shoulders, but something about the whole encounter lingered, and not in a good way.
I opened the door for Dakota, watching as she slid into the passenger seat, completely comfortable in a space that, until now, had only ever felt like mine. The strange part wasn’t that she fit in the truck—it was how much it felt like she belonged there. She settled in like this wasn’t just a temporary spot, but like she was meant to be there, crossing her legs and leaning back like we’d done this a hundred times before. That unsettled feeling crept back in, a low hum in the back of my mind that I couldn’t shake.
After shutting her door, I rounded the truck, pulling out my phone as I went and dialing Colt.
“Okay, I’ve got some news about the case,” I said, sighing as I gripped the door handle. My mind was spinning with everything Shifty had told us—about the treasure, about Syd, and about this mysterious partner who had tried to kill him. There was a lot to unpack, but for now, I had to focus on the task at hand.
Colt’s response was immediate. “Cool. When will you be back at the B&B?”
I glanced through the window, catching sight of Dakota again. She was tapping her fingers on her leg, humming some tune I couldn’t hear from out here. The ease with which she sat in my truck was messing with me, and I hated how natural it seemed. That seat had always been reserved for Colt, or Austin when I took him on trips. We were always moving, never settling down, and suddenly, the idea of her there—riding shotgun as if she were part of my routine—made my throat tighten.
“It’ll be later,” I muttered into the phone, pushing those thoughts aside. “I’ve gotta go have dinner at Dakota’s family’s place.”
A laugh crackled through the phone. “Wait, what? Why?”
“Long story,” I grumbled, gripping the door handle tighter. “But if anyone in town asks, we’re dating.”
Colt laughed again, clearly enjoying this way more than I was. “Okay, no way, I’m gonna need more info.”
I groaned, knowing full well that Colt was going to eat this up later. “I’ll tell you tonight. I gotta get in the truck and head over there. Actually, know what? I’m gonna swing by and pick up Austin. I’ll use him as a buffer.”
“What about me? You don’t wanna bring me?” he asked, the humor thick in his voice.
“Why, so you can enjoy my suffering in person instead of just when I tell you about it later?”
“Obviously.”
I shook my head, a smirk tugging at my lips despite the situation. “Nope. Eat Martha’s pot roast and leave me to suffer in peace.”
“Tuck—” Colt started, but I was already halfway into the truck.
“What?” I asked, pausing before starting the engine.
“Be careful.”
“Of what?” I asked. “No one’s gonna shoot me at the Cole house.”
Dakota gasped beside me, and I slid her a dry look.
Colt chuckled in my ear. “That’s good. But I meant… Just don’t fall for her, okay? We’re leaving as soon as this wraps up, and I don’t need you moping about it for the whole ride back to Colorado.”
“I won’t,” I said through clenched teeth, already annoyed at how accurate Colt’s read was. “I gotta go.”
I hung up before he could say anything else and tossed my phone into the cupholder. But as I turned the key in the ignition, Dakota’s voice cut through my thoughts.
“Ready to meet the fam, boyfriend?” she teased, her eyes dancing with mischief as she leaned toward me, and for a moment, all I could do was stare.
It should’ve freaked me out. It should’ve sent warning bells clanging through my mind—this fake dating, this family dinner, this whole charade. But instead, I felt something entirely different. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I felt a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth, one that I couldn’t quite suppress.
I shook my head, trying to get a grip. “Let’s do it,” I muttered, putting the truck in drive. “But we’re bringing my brother.”
“Oh! Yay! I love that kid,” Dakota said, her voice bright and excited, like we were going on some sort of adventure.
I side-eyed her, my disbelief clear. “You don’t even know him.”
She shot me a look that said I was missing the point. “Boy, I swear. You need to get with the program.”