Chapter Twenty
R odeo week was definitely lingering, Emily thought as she walked past the bakery, resisting the urge to go in and get one of whatever it was that was putting out that luscious aroma.
Now, on Friday, a lot of the crowd that had come for just the rodeo had departed, especially those from the more distant places.
But others stayed to party, which was what made the days after so…
interesting. For Last Stand PD, anyway. She, for one, was not going to miss these twelve-hour shifts.
She felt regret that because of the crowd and the work it entailed, she hadn’t been able to track Tucker down after she’d finished dealing with that fight, which had effectively ruined their plans to meet up later.
And when she’d gone back over to him right after, to explain she’d have to postpone while she dealt with it—that knife she’d found in one kid’s hand had complicated things—he’d been oddly quiet, only nodding.
And it wasn’t until late that night, when she’d been trying futilely to sleep, that she had realized it was because she’d reached a conclusion.
She wanted to see where this might go, if she gave it a chance.
She’d sworn she wasn’t going to let Andrew ruin her life, but she had been, if she went by her reluctance to even consider another man.
It hadn’t really been a problem until now, because there hadn’t been a man since who caused such a response.
Be honest. There hasn’t been a man ever who made you react that way.
She snapped out of the reverie she seemed prone to falling into lately. She had business to attend to, and she needed to pay attention.
It picked up in the evening, and by ten o’clock she and Lobo had broken up two two-man fights, one two-woman fight—which had been, in her opinion, nastier—and were now dealing with a full-on brawl when Slater Highwater had called for help ousting a party of falling-down drunks who had tried to crash the already crowded Last Stand Saloon.
It was the first time she had been to the saloon since That Night.
She grimaced even as she thought it, for how it took over her mind as if it were in neon and capitalized.
Fortunately she was too busy to dwell on it.
And praising Lobo for his apparently instinctive herding abilities.
It was amazing how even drunks paid attention when they heard that low, menacing growl and saw the fangs on the big, black dog.
“They call them shepherds for a reason,” Slater had said, smiling at the dog.
By the time she finished the booking paperwork, and escorting the now chastened half-dozen out-of-towners to the drunk tank, she was almost into the last hour of her shift.
In the hallway outside the booking room she stretched, loosening up muscles that had been tense while dealing with the drunks, in case one of them took a notion to resist.
“Come on, boy,” she said to Lobo. “We’ve got time for one more cruise up and down Main Street.” She said it hoping everyone was behaving at this point.
“I’ve got a better idea.”
She spun around to see the chief coming out of his office, where the door had apparently been open enough for him to hear her. That was yet another thing she admired about the man; he never asked his people to do more than he himself would do. He’d worked as long and hard as any of them this week.
“Okay. What, sir?” she asked, wondering if he’d gotten some call or special request.
He gave her a crooked smile. “Go home.”
She blinked. “I’ve got another hour and ten.”
“No, you don’t. Go home,” he repeated, still smiling. “Oh, and before I forget, I have a message for you from Nic Baylor and Jeremy Thorpe. Your presence—you and Lobo—is required at their place on Sunday for the survival party Jackson is hosting.”
“Survival party?” she said, unable to stop a laugh from coming out with the words.
“Yep. The whole department’s invited, and we’re working out a schedule so everybody can at least stop by, but you were specifically invited by the hostess and her soon-to-be son. And you definitely have to bring him,” he finished with a nod at Lobo.
Well, that made it impossible to turn down. Doing both foot patrols all week had earned her the day off Sunday, so she could go. And who would turn down a chance to go to a party hosted by the Jackson Thorpe?
Someone who overreacts to his best friend?
She spent some time that night chewing on that. Wondering why she felt such trepidation about that reaction she had to him. What was she afraid of? Why did she feel the urge to dodge him? She’d never done that before.
Even after Andrew had broken their engagement two weeks before the wedding, she’d buried her hurt, refusing to let him think he and what he’d done had damaged her.
And eventually she’d come to see that her at the time protective words, that she’d had a narrow escape, were in fact the truth.
Because she later learned the woman he’d left her for had divorced him and taken just about everything he had.
It should have been a sweet payback. Problem was, by then she didn’t care.
Lord, she hadn’t thought about Andrew this much in years. And he had nothing to do with now. And so she found herself on Sunday afternoon at Thorpe’s Therapy Horses , ironically a bit disappointed that there were so many people there she really could hide from Tucker. If she wanted to.
I don’t hide.
Then, when she saw Jeremy and Maverick running toward her—or probably more accurately Lobo—she blew up her own thought with laughter at the idea of hiding with Lobo at her side.
The boy was so excited he could barely finish a sentence. “You gotta see the horses—say hello to Pie—I wanna show you where Mav likes to play, maybe Lobo’ll like it too—and I gotta tell Nic you’re here so she can say hi—Dad wants that too—”
He finally paused when she held up a hand. “Take a breath,” she suggested.
The boy just grinned at her and started again.
“Mrs. Baylor’s over there—she let me try out her wheelchair while she’s riding, isn’t that cool?
—I got to meet Chief Shane’s brother, the detective—he thinks funny, but in a neat way—Mr. Logan’s here, he’s over talking to Chief Shane about some metal thing—and now you’re here so it really is the best day ever. ”
Emily felt a rush of warmth over and above the heat of the day. “Thank you, Mr. Jeremy Thorpe. It’s an honor to know you.” She bent to pat the golden retriever, who was greeting Lobo enthusiastically. “And you, Sir Maverick.”
Jeremy laughed delightedly.
That deep, famous voice came from behind her. “I’m thinking we need to add therapy dogs to this operation.”
She straightened and turned to look at Jeremy’s father. “I think that’s a great idea. And there’s somebody local who could help you with that.”
Jackson smiled that famous smile. “Your boss already introduced me to Chance Rafferty.”
She laughed. “I should have known. The chief doesn’t miss a thing.”
“I already knew that, from the way he rode out in that storm to help search for this guy.” He looked at his son. “And I’ll bet Maverick could help make our visitors feel better.”
“’Course he could, Dad. He makes everybody feel better.” He reached out to pat Lobo, as if he was afraid the dog would feel left out. “Lobo too. He makes me feel safe.”
“Me, too,” Emily said with a wide smile for the boy.
Jeremy looked up at his father. “I wanna take Officer Emily and Lobo up to the chute, where Maverick found me.”
She remembered that night well, having been on call for a possible full-bore search. But the dog and Chance—and her boss for that matter—had come through and found the boy in that huge thunderstorm back in February.
“That’s a long hike,” Jackson said, looking doubtful. “Unless you ride?” he asked her.
“Not since I was a teenager,” she said. And for the first time in quite a while she felt regretful she’d let that lapse.
He looked back at his son. “I’d drive you out there, but I’ve got to stay here and play host—”
“That’s okay, Dad. Uncle T can drive us. He won’t mind.”
The famous face changed then, Jackson’s expression becoming close enough to amused it made her a little nervous. “Well, now, there’s a good idea. I’ll go round him up.”
He spun on his heel and was gone before she could say a word. And what would she have said? No? To the chance to spend some time away from the crowd with Tucker? With Jeremy and two dogs as…a buffer? In case things got awkward, because she couldn’t seem to control her reaction to him?
She remembered her tossing and turning, the other night, and the conclusion she’d finally reached. And as if it was a reward for that decision, here she had an opportunity practically thrown at her after the thwarted one at the rodeo.
She’d be crazy to pass it up.