Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Scarlet
Heartbreak demands comfort food, and there’s no place better for it than Nina’s Barbecue. Between the all-nighter I pulled and confronting Jesse, I crave macaroni and cheese that someone put together with their heart and soul.
I need to show my face in town because I have no reason to hide. I’m not the one who did anything wrong. All I did was fall in love with a man who was ashamed to be seen with me.
Before my thoughts can travel too far down a path I don’t want them to take, the bell above the diner door jingles. For a moment, I wish last night hadn’t happened, that I could forget the way I finally admitted that what Jesse and I had wasn’t enough—that I wasn’t enough.
Instead, the room collectively swoons as a cyclone of leather causes every female heart to palpitate within a city block. And that’s not dismissing the allure of the men in suits trailing right after him.
With a rock where my heart used to be, I objectively watch Beckett Miller as he sweeps into the room with a single-minded determination. His presence turns heads, though he seemed oblivious, tugging off his sunglasses and scanning the diner until his eyes land on me.
Well, this should be interesting.
Despite being in love with a jackass, I’m not immune to the gorgeous, tattooed rockstar who stops at my table. I slide to the edge to rise, but he stops me. “Please.” He holds out a hand. “Beckett Miller.”
My lips curve with wry amusement as he introduces himself to me. “Pretty certain I’d have to be dead not to know that.”
Finding most of the restaurant’s eyes trained on him, he chuckles before crouching beside me. “Yeah, I guess I draw some attention when I’m in town.”
I curb my smile, charmed despite myself. Holding out a hand, I introduce myself to Jesse’s brother-in-law despite having stormed into his family’s home to retrieve my daughter yesterday. “Deputy Sheriff Scarlet Marsden.”
“Great sounding name.”
“Thanks.”
“Bet it would look good in print.”
“It does,” I deadpan.
His brows skyrocket. I wryly inform the world’s most famous musician, “Right after the local Kensington newspaper reports on an investigation I’ve closed.”
“Touché, Sheriff.” He holds up a tattooed hand with a Texas rose on the back and scrubs the back of his neck. “Have a minute to chat.”
Just then, my bowl of macaroni and cheese arrives. I wave at the chair across from me. “You’re welcome to sit if you don’t mind my eating. I have to return to work shortly.”
Beckett pushes up to his full height. “That brings me to why I stopped in.”
“Oh.”
Without hesitation, a man whose songs I sang to my daughter when I was carrying her proclaims, “Jesse is an idiot.”
“Well, that’s blunt. Do you often insult your family in public, Mr. Miller?”
“Call me Beckett.”
“All right.” I fork a bite of the cheesy goodness into my mouth and wait.
A pregnant pause lingers between us. “I notice you’re not disagreeing,” Beckett probes.
It takes everything in me not to let my real emotions out—that I am head over boots in love with Jesse, but my feelings aren’t reciprocated—as evidenced last night.
Beckett tries a different tactic to get me to talk.
“I recognized you at the funeral. Thank you for your service. Thank you for making a difficult day less so for my entire family.”
“It was nothing. Just doing my job.”
Beckett disagrees. “Having met the precious treasure you have at home, I disagree. Mind if I ask you a question?”
“I suspect you’re going to anyway,” I interject drolly.
He continues as if I haven’t spoken. “How did you become a peace officer?”
I fork a bite of food before giving him an abbreviated version of my background—high school, military, law enforcement. He jerks his thumb behind me. “Sounds like my guys.”
My eyes lift. Before I can speak, I spy a reporter—one I noticed at the funeral. Immediately, my hand drops to my piece when Beckett’s guys let him through the perimeter. I frown,“Did you hire people from Bodyguards R Us?”
“Excuse me?”
“I think the sheriff is concerned by my presence,” the dark-haired man drawls laconically. He clasps his hand over Beckett’s shoulder. “Hey, buddy. How’s the family holding up?”
Beckett turns to face him. They clasp each other in a quick slap of the backs that radiates “bro”-fection. “Hey, Lockwood. We’re hanging in there.”
My jaw falls open in shock. Lifting my hand from my sidearm, I stand down even as the two men converse openly. The reporter leans around Beckett and waves to his bodyguard, “Kane, how’s it going?”
The stoic blond I recognize from Jesse’s drawls, “Good, man.”
Catching sight of my confusion, Beckett satisfies my curiosity by performing a quick introduction.
“Chuck Lockwood, StellaNova Media, this is Deputy Sheriff Scarlet Marsden.” He jerks his thumb in the younger man’s direction.
“In the messed-up branches of my family tree, pretty certain this kid and I are now related somehow.”
I sputter, “Seriously?”
The younger man grins. “At the very least, you trust your life to members of my actual family.”
Beckett grins. “On a daily basis, that’s the truth.”
“What do you mean by that?” I can’t help but ask.
Beckett points at the members of his entourage before explaining, “Chuck’s father and uncle own the firm I employ my security team through. I’ve literally watched this guy grow up since he was a toddler.”
“Better yet, he didn’t turn on me when I joined the dark side,” Chuck quips. He tips his head in a polite nod. “Sheriff Marsden, I’ll try not to bother you while I’m still in town.”
“Much appreciated.” I keep my tone neutral even as I’m astounded at the friendliness between the two. I make a mental note to ask Jesse about it—before the ache in my heart reminds me it’s all over between us now.
Something must have altered in the universe because when I tune back into the force of nature in front of me, Beckett’s migrated from a laid-back rockstar into a hissing cobra, ready to strike.
“No. No press comments. She and her kid are off limits, Chuck. ”
“Since when?” the younger man questions.
Beckett growls, “Everyone in my family doesn’t have to be front-page news.”
Did he say what I think he said? Before I can ask what in the hell is happening, Beckett reiterates, “Are we clear?”
“Beckett, come on. Your family—”
Beckett cuts him off. “Damn it, Jesse isn’t me. He’s entitled to some privacy in his life.” Then he leans forward and whispers something for the other man to hear. Chuck’s arguments come to an abrupt stop. His polite “Sheriff” is his last word to me before he exits the diner.
I shoot Beckett a glare. “What was that all about?”
Without hesitation, Beckett answers, “Protecting my family.”
My voice is emotionless when I state, “I’m not part of your family.”
“You don’t think so?”
My glare should incinerate him. This man must be oblivious to the withering disgust I’m aiming his way. Almost fondly, he recalls, “I almost lost my wife after we finally got back together. Damn paparazzi published a photo that insinuated something that wasn’t true.”
“You and your wife worked it out.”
“Not without a lot of heartbreak.” Beckett turns his infamous blue eyes on me. “Did Jesse make you cry?”
“Leave it alone. Please.”
“Last night shook him.”
“Do you think it was a cakewalk for me?” I exclaim.
“He needs you, Scarlet.”
Those words tip me over the edge. I slam my hands on the table and shout, “Then he shouldn’t have kept me—us—as his dirty little secret!”
Silence rains down around us. I feel every stare, every measuring glance, as pieces of a puzzle that’s likely been speculated about suddenly slip into place. Falling back against the booth, I lift a shaking hand to my mouth before I murmur, “Oh God. What did I do?”
Quickly, I reach into my pocket for a twenty. Tossing it onto the table, I race away from the lunch crowd. Savagely, I think, Good, when Beckett Miller calls my name behind me. Maybe they’ll run their mouths about me ignoring him instead of how I all but admitted that Jesse broke my heart.