Chapter 1 Elenie #2
At the counter, Brody McAlpine, owner of the local gun and rod shop, gossiped with Nathan Reyes from the liquor store.
Neither looked her in the eye as she delivered their breakfast sandwiches; unsurprising, as both had little reason for a favorable opinion of Elenie’s family.
Peggy Winterburn held court at a table of older ladies, complaining about the unnecessary power of her neighbor’s security light.
And, just inside the door, a gaggle of teenagers with a free first period took on caffeine to fuel their day at Pine Springs High.
Diner 43 was, as the chief said, the best place in town for breakfast.
Ringing up another check, Elenie saw that someone from the local business guild had dropped off a small pile of flyers for their gala dinner, so she shuffled them into a neat stack by the cash register.
Taking two from the top and grabbing some clear tape from beneath the counter, she fixed one to the wall next to the coffee machine and took the other to the entrance.
Taping it to the inside of the glass, she pulled open the door to check it was straight.
Expertly dodging the foot that Dean stuck out to trip her on her way back, she elbowed him in the head without breaking her stride.
Younger than Tyson, Dean was softer in looks than his brother and Elenie found him marginally less irritating.
But he upheld the family tradition of making consistently bad choices because he was slow on the uptake, hadn’t been taught any better, and had friends who were all losers.
As she cleared her stepbrothers’ table, hoping to encourage them to leave, Tyson flicked out his hand, catching the underside of the tray.
The four tall glasses rocked and tumbled, a spray of ice cream and chocolate milkshake remnants showering Elenie from chin to waist and soaking her shirt.
The float glass rolled over the edge and smashed on the floor.
Delia’s head popped through the serving hatch, habitual glare in place.
Thanks for the concern—I’m fine! Globby droplets of vanilla dripped from Elenie’s forearm.
Ty studied the puddle by her feet. “That’s a health and safety hazard, sis. I’d get onto that if I was you.”
Her toes curling inside her sneakers, she fought the urge to hit him smack in the face with the tray, walk her sticky feet through the door of the diner, and never come back.
Instead, face impassive but throat tight, Elenie fetched a dustpan and a cloth to clear up the mess, suffering a roomful of eyes on her back as she swept and wiped.
When a pair of black lace-up boots appeared at the edge of the broken glass wasteland, her eyelids fluttered closed for a brief, strength-seeking moment.
“Can I help you?” Hands filled with the wreckage from the floor, she tilted her chin to look up at the hot stranger—a long, long way up, into a face of shadows and angles.
Lean, but muscular, his trim, strong frame filled out his uniform like it was bespoke. She had a ridiculous urge to poke her finger into his stomach just to test how much give there was. She would bet on meeting a solid wall of resistance.
Elenie kept her finger to herself.
“I’d like to pay when you have a minute.”
“Of course. Let me just get rid of this glass.”
He gave her a brief nod and swept eyes as tough as black granite over her stepbrothers and their friends. They fixed on Dean, who stared blankly back from under his beanie.
“You’ll want to hand over the cash you took from the next table.” Flat and uncompromising, the man’s suggestion was not a request.
Elenie stood up, dumped the dustpan and its contents onto the tabletop, and thrust out her hand. Pulling a crumpled bill from his pocket, Dean slapped it into her palm with a shrug.
Behind the counter, she busied herself at the cash register. Mr. Sexy Forearms slid a card from his wallet, his stare never wavering from her face, and the dry tinder inside Elenie’s chest threatened to smolder and burn.
Get a grip, girl. He’s in uniform, therefore he’s dangerous. Out of bounds. Not. For. You.
She wished with all her heart that she was someone else.
“Roman Martinez! I heard you were in town.” Dragged back to earth, Elenie watched Nathan Reyes reach out and the two men clasped hands. “Where’ve you been working?”
“Detroit PD. Homicide division.” The words sounded forced on the hot stranger’s lips.
“You’re not just visiting either, by the looks of it?” Eyes alight with interest, Nathan gestured to his uniform.
“I’ll be taking over from Chief Roberts at the end of the week.”
Oh, dear God. That was both the answer to Elenie’s prayers and a huge complication, all rolled into one.
“This guy. Best cleanup hitter Pine Springs High ever had!” Nathan said, turning to fill in Brody McAlpine with a broad grin. “No one could touch us when Martinez was on the baseball field. We all thought he was headed for the big leagues.”
The new chief smiled but Elenie noticed his fingers had clenched around the credit card in his palm. Ignoring Nathan’s comment, he gave Brody a polite chin lift. “Pretty sure I recognize your face, sir. It’s good to see you again.”
The three exchanged a few more words while Elenie rang up the check. Heart as heavy as a bowling ball, fingers slippery with milkshake on the buttons of the card reader, she tried to pretend she wasn’t an unholy mess of chocolate flavoring and ice cream and just did her job.
So, she’d been humiliated in front of the mouthwatering Roman Martinez, former Golden Boy of Pine Springs High. What did that even matter?
He’d find out soon enough why the Daxes didn’t feature on the Christmas card list of anyone from the local PD.