Chapter 7
The roads haven’t been plowed yet, but that’s alright.
My old pickup truck handles them just fine.
The headlights reflect off the white blank slate, and I wish I had one of those for everything in my life.
A blank slate sounds nice right about now.
I’d drive all day long on snow—covered roads just to talk to a woman who isn’t Stella Collins. She’s nuts.
I can’t believe she isn’t grateful to Wes for hooking her up with some muscle to take care of her.
What in the hell is that about? What is wrong with her?
I know she’s been through a lot, but I would have thought that meant she would have had enough good sense to understand when she was being handed a break. Instead, she acts like I’m a problem.
I’m not a problem. I’m a benefit of being Wes’ assignment.
How could I be a problem? And didn’t she have fun last night?
Why is she pushing me away? It doesn’t make any sense at all.
Ugh. I whack my head on the headrest to clear it up.
What the hell is wrong with her? Why am I still thinking about her?
At least she had enough sense to stay put today.
I checked the camera in her dining room this morning, and she was already up to make coffee, so my mind is at ease on all of that.
Thought about checking her other cameras, but that one seems the least intrusive, so I feel like less of a jerk for watching it.
I park in front of the diner, and my feet crunch into the snow as soon as I step out of the truck. Inside, the diner is nice and warm and well—lit. Most importantly, Katie is here. She smiles, “Well, hey there, darlin’. Take a seat wherever. I’ll be by to get your order in a minute.”
“Thanks, Katie.” I take a booth in the corner and relax.
Mr. Johnson, the liquor store manager, has his breakfast with Katie every morning.
I know they’re not related, but he is like a great grandfather to her.
He’s as old as Mr. Hanson, and I wonder if he knows about his health.
They are friends and I wonder if I should be the one to tell him.
As unpleasant as the topic is, it’s nice to think about people other than Stella.
It’s not like I don’t have other people in my life. Floyd is a town of a couple hundred people, half of whom are within dating age range of myself and half of them are women, give or take. Stella Collins isn’t the only datable woman around these parts. I have options, dammit.
Patricia, the librarian, for instance, sits four booths over.
She has a crush on me, but it’s one—sided.
We were at the Floyd Christmas Parade two years ago and got caught by the elves carrying mistletoe.
They hung it over us, then sang some song about kissing, and waited until we did.
It clearly meant something to her, so I haven’t been back to the library since.
She gives a shy wave, and I afford her a polite smile and nod, hoping not to stir her passions.
“What’ll it be today, Jordan?” Katie asks, as she pours my coffee.
Her long blonde hair is tied up in a bun, and her warm brown eyes smile when she talks.
She wears her sapphire high school class ring, even though school’s been over for her for near a decade.
Katie Briar is as sweet as the pie she serves.
“Corned beef hash, four eggs over easy, hash browns, sausage, and rye toast. Oh, and country ham. And a small fruit bowl.”
“Well, of course, the small fruit bowl. Wouldn’t want to go overboard, now wouldja?”
I chuckle, then add, “And pancakes.”
“Damn, son, where you gonna put all that?” she winks. Her freckles dance on her nose when she does, and it’s adorable, but it doesn’t make my blood stir like it used to. Odd.
“I have had a very strange forty—eight hours, and I think I skipped some meals. I’m famished.”
“I’ll put the order in with Georgie right away, and when I come back, you can tell me all about it.
” She flits to the kitchen, so I watch the view.
Her round ass is distracting, but it’s not as nice as Stella’s.
Dammit, why am I thinking about her again?
I sigh. I need to get her off my mind. Maybe Katie can help me out with that.
She returns fast, with a sly smile. “So, what’s happening? ”
“I can’t get into the details, but the shorthand is that sometimes, even though I retired, I feel like my old life keeps calling.”
Katie lowers her voice and says, “You mean, the Special Forces stuff?”
“I do, indeed.” I nod and take note that when she lowers her voice, it is sexy as hell.
But then, her much higher Southern Belle register is back, and her sexiness is once again in question, “Oh, gosh. Are you in some kind of trouble, Jordan?”
“No, not really. I’m just a cog in a machine that I thought I quit. That’s all it is, Katie. Nothing to worry about, I promise.”
Her soft hand cups over the back of mine. “If you need someone to talk to, or for anything else, then I’m here for you.”
“And if I could talk about it, I would, Katie. Thank you.”
“Well, like I said. I’m available for anything else, too.” She sits in the booth across from me. “And speaking of telling you all about it, did you hear about Carl Winters’ wife?”
“Edna?”
“Mm, hmm. She was caught with Pastor Keppler’s son, going heels to Jesus in the church parking lot during services.”
“Can’t be. You’re pulling my leg! She’s more than twice his age!”
She grins and shakes her head, “Swear to God, Jordan. I got it from Mr. Wyler, who heard from Danny White, whose cousin heard Mrs. Patinkin squeal when she saw them going at it. That is practically straight from the horse’s mouth!”
And this is why I tell her nothing. “Katie, you always have the best gossip.”
“People like to tell me things.” She smiles and shrugs. “So, if you’d like to share anything—"
I shake my head. “No. I’m just here for the food.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“And the company.”
Her smile brightens. “I’m glad to hear it.”
She rambles on, spreading more inane gossip, but when she goes to get my food, I check on Stella.
She’s dressed like she’s leaving her house.
No suitcases, and she’s leaving Sugar behind.
That’s good. I can breathe a sigh of relief.
My food arrives, and all I can think of is why Stella left her house.
Katie pops by to check in on me and flirt some more.
But I’m distracted by worrying about Stella, and I don’t enjoy our usual morning flirtation like I used to.
When Patricia heads out, she smiles my way, and Katie notices, while she pours me more coffee. She waves at her and says, “Bye, see you next Tuesday!”
Patricia chuckles, then says, “I’m here almost every day, Katie.”
“Oh, I must need more coffee myself,” she says, friendly as hell, like she’s a ditz. But Katie, as sweet as she is, is no ditz.
The mousy librarian remarks, “Or maybe switch to decaf. Bye.”
When the door closes, I ask, “What was that all about?”
“Patricia Martin is a terrible tipper, she is rude to anyone she thinks of as ‘the help’, and I think she has her eye on you.”
“So, ‘see you next Tuesday’?”
She smirks, “I’m too much of a lady to explain it, but I’m sure google can tell you what it means.”
“While I do that, can you get me a to-go order of the corned beef hash?”
“Sure thing, darlin’.”
I google the phrase and I’m surprised Katie knew what it meant.
She always seems so innocent. I have a little chuckle at Patricia’s expense, but then Stella pops into my head.
I bet she would have laughed about it, too.
I have to tell her. Oh, wait, we’re not…
Ugh, I have to get her out of my system.
Nothing gets a woman out of my head like work.
I shovel my food into my mouth fast, and, once my to—go order is ready, I head to the firehouse.
Our town is a one—stoplight, one—sheriff, no deputies sort of place.
The firehouse is tiny, like Floyd. It’s across from Bailey’s, so at least we don’t have to go far for grub.
They have the best fresh donuts in the morning.
From the outside, the firehouse looks like a brick warehouse with two large garage doors.
On the inside, there’s an office above the vehicle bays on the second floor, which is where I find my buddy, “Michael, how’s it hanging? ”
“Good, Ghost.” His faint Russian accent is more pronounced when he’s annoyed.
“Sorry about yesterday. You got my text, right?”
“About some personal emergency? Yeah. Did you get my voicemail, where I called and asked if everything is okay?” He sounds mad.
I produce the takeout box from the diner and open it in front of him. Then, I bounce the lid, so the smells waft to him. “Corned beef hash to make up for it?”
He glares at me and says, “It’s a start.” Then he yanks the box from my hands and chows down. He’s a sucker for the corned beef hash, and truthfully, the diner has helped mend a lot of fences with their recipe for the stuff. Michael asks, “This is a fresh batch, isn’t it?”
I nod. “Had Katie make sure of it.”
“So, what happened yesterday?”
“I can’t get into it just yet, but when I can get into it, I will.”
He tips his head down and asks, “Seriously, man, is everything alright? Are you okay? Healthwise, I mean?”
“Yeah, nothing like that,” I scramble to explain it away. “An old Marine buddy of mine is having some trouble, and he needs some help. It’s a little sketchy, but I’m handling it.”
“Sure,” he shrugs. “Then, why’d you bother to come in today?”
“Thought you could use some help cleaning up around here or something. Or maybe I could be around, if there’s a call.”
“You sound weird, Jordan. You sure you’re alright?”
I nod. “Just need to stay busy.”
“Got it. Well, Bert could always use a wash. And Ernie needs an oil change, if you’re up to it. David sucks at it.”
“I’ll take Ernie, but I’m not washing Bert until spring. Too damn cold to wash the firetrucks, man.”
“Be that way.” His attention is diverted behind me, and he lets out a low whistle. “I keep wanting to say hello to her but missing my chance.”
I turn around, and there’s Stella. I laugh and warn him, “Don’t bother, Michael. Stella Collins would chew you up and spit you out.”
“Already tried, eh?”
“You can say that again.”
He gasps in faux shock. “There’s a woman immune to your charms? Did hell freeze over?”
“Asshole.”
Michael laughs and says, “Excuse me, but I’ve had to live with story after story of your conquests, and I know you’re working on my girlfriend, Katie—
“Katie is not your girlfriend,” I point out. “She doesn’t even like you.”
“Not yet, but she will. I just need to set her house on fire and rescue her.”
I snort, “I didn’t realize you had to stoop to arson to get a date.”
“It’s gonna be a cold winter, Jordan. Gotta keep warm somehow. Maybe I’ll keep warm with Stella Collins.”
“Good luck, man.”
He smirks, then asks, “You sure about that? Don’t want another go at her?”
I shake my head. “She’s a piece of work. I like to keep things nice and simple.”
I watch her walk back to her truck with two arms full of groceries.
A man I don’t recognize walks up behind her, and I’m out the door before I can blink.
Just as he’s about to grab her, I tackle him to the ground, then straddle his chest. One hand on the throat, the other in the air.
I swing back to hit him and hear Stella screaming.
I look up, half expecting another assailant. But she yells at me, “Stop, you idiot!”