7. Allie
Allie
T he sheriff’s badge caught the afternoon light like a warning beacon, and every instinct I had screamed at me to run.
The familiar copper taste of fear filled my mouth, the same taste I’d woken to every morning for years now.
It was becoming as much a part of me as my heartbeat, this constant readiness to flee, my muscles coiled tight enough to snap.
My legs actually twitched with the urge to bolt, but Hail stepped closer to me.
There was something about this male I couldn’t explain that cut through the panic. Like finding solid ground in quicksand. I’d never felt this before with anyone, this instant sense of safety. It terrified me almost as much as Dungar’s badge, because safety was the most dangerous illusion of all.
“Nice to meet you.” Dungar’s dark eyes took in everything, including my reaction to his uniform, the way I’d gone pale, how I was practically panting with the need to escape.
He was a cop, all right. Even if this was some tiny tourist town in the middle of nowhere, he had that look they all got when they sensed something was off.
I forced a nod, hoping he couldn’t see how badly my fingers were trembling. “You too.”
“Should we go inside?” Hail gestured toward the pottery barn. “I was about to show Allie more glazing techniques.”
“Good idea.” Dungar still watched me with that cop expression that made my skin crawl.
We walked inside, and I tried to focus on breathing normally. This was fine. I was fine. Just because he wore a badge didn’t mean he was here for me. He was Hail’s brother. Family visit. Nothing more.
Before everything fell apart, I wasn’t the type to lie about my abilities. I’d been confident, maybe even proud of what I could do. But that woman seemed like a stranger now, someone I’d watched in a movie once and vaguely remembered. They’d taken that from me too, along with everything else.
“So you’re the sheriff here?” I asked, trying to sound casual and probably failing miserably.
“That’s right.” Dungar leaned back against one of the workbenches. “Though it’s more of an honorary title. We needed someone to keep order for the tourists, handle any disputes that come up.”
“But you can make arrests?” The question popped out before I could stop it.
Dungar’s brow ridge rose. “If needed, yes. Though mostly I arrest people for charity.”
My blood turned to ice. “What?”
“It’s a fun thing we do,” Hail explained quickly, probably noticing how I’d gone rigid. “Fake arrests during the tour-tourist events. People donate money to get their friends arrested and…and…the proceeds go to local charities.”
“Oh.” I forced out a laugh that sounded much too hollow. “That does sound fun.”
“You should let us arrest you sometime,” Dungar said with what was probably meant to be a friendly grin. “The tourists love playing prisoner.”
The room spun. “Maybe.”
Hail was watching me with growing concern, and I realized I needed to pull myself together fast. Acting like a spooked rabbit around law enforcement was only going to raise more questions.
“Actually…” I stiffened my spine and put on my brightest smile. “I’m excited to be here because I have some experience with rodeos.”
Both brothers looked at me with interest.
“Really?” Dungar asked. “What kind of experience?”
“Oh, you know, the usual.” I waved my hand vaguely.
“I’ve been around horses and cattle most of my life.
Grew up on a ranch.” The lies came easier than they should.
“I’ve done some barrel racing, helped with organizing events.
When I heard you were planning a rodeo here, I thought maybe I could help out. ”
Hail’s expression shifted to confusion. “You didn’t mention that before.”
“I was more focused on the pottery job.” I gave him what I hoped was a convincing smile. “But I’d love to help with both if you need me.”
Why did I feel this desperate need to prove I was valuable to this family? Maybe because they were the first people in years who’d made me feel welcome. Or because I was terrified they’d realize I was nobody special and send me away.
“That’s fantastic.” Dungar’s cop wariness way way to genuine enthusiasm. “We could definitely use someone with real experience. What kind of events have you worked?”
My mind went blank. “Events?”
“Yeah, what disciplines?” He leaned forward. “I did a lot of research online. Probably more than needed but?—”
“Dungar ha-ha-has O of the CD,” Hail said.
O of the… Ah, I understood now. “OCD.”
“Yes, that.” Dungar flicked out his hand. “I made a spreadsheet, something I never would’ve thought of in the orc kingdom, but I find so helpful now. Do you like spreadsheets?”
“Um…sure.”
“What’s your specialty? Bull riding, bronc riding, team roping?”
I fumbled for words, trying to remember anything I’d ever seen in Western movies. “All of them, really. I’m very…versatile.”
“You said barrel racing.” Hail tilted his head, nudging the front of his cowboy hat back. His perceptive dark eyes narrowed. “Now all the-the-the others? That’s…that’s a lot of different…things to master.”
“Right. Yes. Obviously.” Sweat gathered at the back of my neck and started raking itself down my spine. “I mean, I’ve done all sorts of things. My family…felt it was good to try as much as I could to…find where I was best. Yes, that. Find where I was best.”
“And that’s…” Hail’s gaze remained locked on my eyes.
Would they give me away? “Um, bull riding.” I was digging such a big hole, I’d never find my way out.
Dungar’s brow ridge climbed higher. “You’ve ridden bulls?”
The question hung in the air like a trap waiting to spring. I opened my mouth, then closed it, scrambling for an answer that wouldn’t sound completely ridiculous.
“I… Well, it’s been a while,” I said weakly.
Hail was definitely suspicious now. I could see it in the way he watched me, the frown creasing his forehead. He knew I was lying, but he couldn’t figure out why.
“What kind of bulls did you ride?” Dungar asked, and there was something in his tone that suggested this wasn’t idle curiosity anymore. “Brahmas? Angus cross? What was your average ride time?”
Why did he know all these details? Oh, yes, OCD. I wanted to howl.
Instead, I stared at him, my mouth opening and closing. I had no idea what he was talking about. Bulls were bulls, weren’t they? How many different kinds could there be?
“The…regular kind,” I said.
Dungar and Hail exchanged a look that made my stomach drop to my toes. I was busted, and we all knew it.
“Allie,” Hail said. “You don’t have to pre-pretend to know about rodeos to impress us.”
The kindness in his voice almost undid me. Here I was, lying to the first good people I’d met in forever, and he was being understanding about it.
“I know I don’t have to,” I said, then stopped.
Because the truth was, I did feel like I had to.
These people had built something amazing together, created this perfect little community where everyone belonged.
I wanted to belong too, desperately, and I was terrified that the real me wouldn’t be enough.
“Have you ever actually worked a rodeo?” Dungar asked.
“No.” My cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I haven’t.”
“But you want to help anyway?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“That’s all we needed to know,” Hail said. “Experience would be helpful, but enthusiasm matters more.”
The relief that poured through me was so intense I almost swayed on my feet. They weren’t angry. They weren’t throwing me out. They were being kind about my pathetic attempt to impress them.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know why I wasn’t truthful about that.”
“People are dishonest when they’re frightened.” That cop alertness was back in Dungar’s eyes. “What are you scared of, Allie?”
I was scared of everything, from the phone calls, scared of Will Carmichael and his syndicate, scared of being found, scared of having to run again, scared of never finding a place where I could stay.
But I couldn’t tell them any of that.
“New places make me nervous,” I said instead. “I wanted to fit in.”
Dungar studied me for a long moment, and I had the uncomfortable feeling he could see right through my flimsy explanation. But before he could push further, the sound of voices outside announced the arrival of the afternoon pottery group.
“Looks like your students are here,” Dungar said to Hail. “I should get back to town anyway. Lots to organize before the rodeo.”
He bumped off the workbench and headed for the door but paused and looked back at me. “Allie? If you ever need anything, anything at all, you come find me. You’re family now.”
Family? It was all I could do not to cry.
It had been so long since I’d been part of anything that the concept felt foreign, dangerous even. Family meant staying, and staying meant being found. It meant giving them a target too, these kind people who didn’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire of my mistakes.
But for an instant, I let myself imagine what it would be like to belong here, with them.
With Hail.
To stop running.
The yearning was so intense it left me breathless.