CHAPTER FIVE #2
Gage’s calm exterior was deceptive. She had no idea how she knew, but his long, lean body was primed and ready for a fight. Melanie looked from one man to the other. The undercurrents swirling between them felt deep enough to drown in.
“Landry.”
“Bradford.”
“I heard you’re leaving the FBI. A high-pressure job like that isn’t for everyone. At least it’ll no longer be your job to harass people for a living.”
Her gaze flew to Gage. He was with the FBI? Why was she not surprised? His response over the guy in the truck now made sense. But what did Chase mean about him harassing people?
Gage flicked his glance at her before returning his attention to Chase. “We try to limit our harassment to criminals.”
There was an unmistakable flash of anger before Chase’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “Guess it’s a step up from playing ranch hand. Gives you more money to burn drinking at a bar.”
“At least having a beer doesn’t make me a mean drunk. What’s your excuse?”
Chase’s cheeks reddened. “I don’t need a fucking excuse. Come on, Mel,” he said abruptly. “We’ll get a booth.”
Trying to make sense of the exchange, she slipped off the stool. That the two men detested each other was clear. “I’ll see you later, Gage.”
“Yeah.”
She moved across the floor with Chase, and Melanie felt Gage’s gaze on her back as surely as a touch. And his wouldn’t be unwelcome.
***
Gage sipped his beer. It irritated the shit out of him that Melanie was with Chase Bradford.
Their rivalry had started not long after Gage arrived at Lone Pine Ranch.
He and Shane had been at Easy Money the night Bradford—drunk and loud—exploded at his then-wife.
When the asshole backhanded her and split her lip, Gage and Shane had stepped in.
Bradford took a swing at Gage. He’d easily dodged it and hit back, catching the other man with a solid punch that had broken his nose.
Bradford had hated him ever since.
The man was an asshole, plain and simple. Especially with women. Too bad being a jackass wasn’t a crime. But bank fraud was.
True to form, Bradford had assumed Gage was a ranch hand, and adopted that smug, condescending air he reserved for anyone he thought beneath him.
Gage would be lying if he said it hadn’t been satisfying to show up at the bank earlier that week, badge visible on his belt and Glock in his shoulder holster, and hand Bradford a target letter from the FBI.
The guy had gone beet red, sputtering with outrage as he demanded Gage’s credentials—because apparently anyone could flash a fake badge.
Gage produced his ID without so much as a smirk, then calmly informed Bradford he was now the subject in an active investigation and was required to preserve all evidence.
The weapon at Gage’s side might’ve been the only thing that kept Chase from taking another swing. Or maybe it was the memory of that broken nose.
From there, Gage had gone straight to the Bradford estate. George Bradford opened the door mid-phone call—probably talking to his son—and took the envelope without a word, then shut the door in Gage’s face.
Gage moved to a booth across from where Melanie and Chase were seated. It kept her in his line of sight.
Gage sipped his beer, watching Melanie try to look interested. The waiter took their drinks order and left bar menus on the table. Bradford had spread himself across the seat with his arm along the back and his legs spread wide. It was a dick move to show dominance and authority.
He was talking effusively with big hand gestures. Probably thought Melanie was hanging on his every word. The waiter brought their drinks, white wine for Melanie and, since Bradford had made sure everyone could hear him order, top-shelf scotch for the asshole.
Watching Chase wine and dine Melanie like he didn’t have federal heat bearing down on him, Gage couldn’t help but wonder. Maybe Bradford was trying to distract himself with a beautiful woman. Or maybe he had another motive entirely.
His phone vibrated. He glanced down. A text from his mother.
LifeGiver: Hi, my boy. Stu and I are planning a cross-country road trip in his RV as soon as the weather warms in the spring. First leg is the Pacific Northwest. Would you and Pancake join us for a few days? The RV sleeps six, so there’s room. I miss you.
His mom deserved to be happy. God knew she’d had enough years when she wasn’t.
Gage had been a kid when his dad died in a head-on collision with an asshole who’d been taking the edge off his day with a few nips of vodka. In the twisted way fate worked, the drunk had walked away. Steven Landry hadn’t.
A decade later, grief had come for them again. His sister Janie, funny and brave, lost her fight with cancer. Gage had been afraid his mom would simply fade away from heartache until she completely disappeared.
But Judy Landry had clawed her way back. Bit by bit.
She bought her little house in Oakland, planted flowers she fussed over, had even gotten an orange kitten she named Samson. And then a year ago, she met Stuart. A retired lineman for the electric company, he was a solid guy and treated her right.
Gage liked him well enough. Even if he’d pulled a background check first. The DUI from thirty years back had pissed him off. But Stuart owned it. Said he told Judy up front and swore he hadn’t touched a drink since. Gage believed him.
They’d had a small courthouse wedding. Now they acted like they’d won the damn lottery.
Judy even got along with Stu’s daughter, and now had grandkids who called her “Mimi.”
Gage was glad she was happy. Truly. Still, it was strange. His mom with a whole new family that didn’t include him. She tried to make space for him. But he couldn’t help feeling like the odd man out.
He typed a reply:
Gage: Let me know when you’re leaving and I’ll arrange my schedule.
A moment later:
LifeGiver: Good! Do you remember I told you about Stacy who does my hair and how her cousin’s daughter lives in Sisters?
Gage: No.
LifeGiver: Stacy told her about you and that you’re single. She wants to meet you.
Gage: No way in hell.
LifeGiver: You might like her. She’s a yoga instructor. I hear they’re very bendy.
Gage: STOP. Don’t say things like that.
LifeGiver: Don’t be a prude. She thinks your little town has vortexes or swirling centers of energy or something equally woo-woo. I know that’s not your thing, but Stacy says she’s sweet as can be.
Gage: That’s horrifying. For the love of god, don’t try to set me up with a woo-woo yoga teacher. Or anyone. Ever.
LifeGiver: You need someone who makes you happy like Stuart makes me happy.
Across the room, Melanie sipped her wine while Bradford talked nonstop. Didn’t take a psych degree to see she was bored.
He could tell his mom he was interested in someone.
It might not even be a lie.
He dismissed the idea almost as soon as it formed. Even protection from woo-woo yoga teachers wasn’t worth the fallout that would follow.
Gage: I’m fine. Glad you’re happy.
LifeGiver: Gotta go. My show’s on. It’s a reality show about cousins who marry. Love you!
Gage: Love you back.
He chuckled softly and shook his head, then opened his email app. He deleted a few spam messages before tapping on one from Imani Bentil, his boss at the bureau. Reading the email, he could hear the West African cadence of her voice in his head.
She thanked him again for delivering the target letters and said she’d enjoyed working with him. Wished him well in his new chapter.
This morning, with his separation paperwork finalized, his time with the Bureau was officially over. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Maybe a little regret. He’d liked the people. Liked fighting for something that mattered.
But the bureaucracy? That he wouldn’t miss. He still planned to chase justice, but with fewer layers of red tape in the way.
Gage contemplated what was bugging him about Bradford. His interest in Melanie set off something in his gut. A trigger warning, loud and insistent. Something was off.
Maybe Melanie didn’t think of it as a date, but Bradford sure as hell did. And it wasn’t only that.
It wasn’t hard to see why he’d be interested.
She had spine, a face that intrigued, and then there were those curves.
Tonight she’d done something to make her eyes look mysterious that boosted her from knockout to sexy siren.
Add the red lipstick and Gage was wrecked.
Call him weak, but that shade short-circuited his brain.
And it wasn’t only about looks.
When they were together, something between them sparked. Then there was the way she lit up around Addy that showed her utter delight with her child. Melanie possessed an inherent goodness that set all his protective instincts humming.
What the hell was she doing with Bradford? She didn’t seem the kind to be impressed by a bank president or political candidate. At least Gage hoped not. But if it wasn’t a date, why meet him at a bar on a Friday night?
He didn’t have the answer. And that unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.
Gage settled in, nursing his beer to make it last. He’d hang out and make sure there were no problems.
Not that it was any hardship, especially when Shane came in with his wife. That his best friend was not only married but had a kid was a kick in the ass.
Emery spotted him and grabbed Shane’s hand to pull him with her to the bench seat across from Gage.
“Hey, pal, I’m so glad to see you. We didn’t expect you here.”
Emery wasn’t subtle in her efforts to get him out more. Everyone having babies had changed how their people got together, though. With the vast quantity of paraphernalia needed when going out with the tiny humans, it was easier for the group to get together at the ranch or Cider Mill Farm.
“What’d you do with the short one?”
“Harding’s got Violet tonight.” Emery sent her husband a worried look. “Do you think we should call to check if everything’s all right?”
“Darlin’, she’s fine. Harding’s got your number, my number, Delaney and Cam’s numbers. He’s got a dozen numbers to call if he needs help. You know he likes nothing better than to sit in the rocking chair and rock our girl to sleep.”
“Right. She’s fine. I know she’s fine, but what if she wants me and I’m not there?” Emery held up a hand. “Don’t answer that. I know I’m being crazy. She’s a well-loved child, and with my parents coming tomorrow morning for a visit, between them and Harding we’ll be lucky to even get to hold her.”
Shane dropped an arm around her shoulders and whispered something in her ear that had her smiling.
While they chatted, Gage kept tabs on the couple across the room. The waiter arrived, and Melanie shook her head. Chase leaned in, clearly pressing the issue, but she held her ground. Hands up, firm.
Accept it, pal. She doesn’t want dinner with you.
The waiter left and Melanie leaned forward. She emphasized with her hands as she talked. Bradford’s posture changed. Arms crossed. Chin down. Closed off.
“You’re keeping a close eye on your new neighbor,” Shane noted, grinning.
“Bradford’s an asshole.”
“Agreed. That the only reason you’ve got your eye on Mel?”
“It’s enough of one.”
“Oh,” Emery chimed in. “Shane told me what happened to Melanie. It’s brave of her to move back to Sisters. I can’t wait to meet her.”
The waiter circled to their table. Gage ordered sliders and fries with a Coke. He raised a brow at Shane and Emery. “It won’t hurt my feelings if you two want to get your own table for date night.”
“Trying to get rid of us?” Emery teased. “Harding is so besotted with Violet we have to fight him for time with her. He makes sure we get plenty of date nights.” She gave a wry grin. “He’s scheming for more babies so he’s making sure we have time to do the deed.”
“Are you kidding me? That’s why he’s always taking her?” Shane looked vaguely horrified.
Emery shrugged. “Pretty sure. I mean, he loves her, but he’d be happy if we had a half dozen babies.”
Gage laughed when Shane paled.
“Anyway,” Emery added, “you’re one of our people. I’m happy we ran into you.”
Funny thing was, he knew she meant it.
He leaned back as Emery launched into a story involving baby vomit and Shane’s poor choice to hold Violet overhead.
“How can that tiny kid hold that much milk?” Shane grumbled.
“I’d warned you not to hold her like that. That was top-quality breast milk. All wasted.” Emery sent Gage a grin. “Let me know if it’s TMI. After giving birth, the guardrails are down. I have zero modesty and everything’s open for discussion.”
“I’m good,” Gage said, laughing.
The food arrived and everyone dug in.
As he dipped fries into ketchup, Gage glanced back across the room. Melanie was talking and Bradford was on edge. He’d shut down, legs crossed, arms tight, jaw clenched.
Whatever she’d said had rattled Bradford’s smug facade.
Good, Gage thought. She can handle herself.
But the restlessness inside him kept humming.
Mateo and Juliette wandered over.
“Hey, Gage,” Juliette said, nudging him with her hip. “We need dog advice.”
“What’s up?”
“Pancake is such a cool dog. Would you recommend a golden?”
Gage shot a look at Emery, who didn’t look even a little guilty. She and her sisters had cooked up the idea and ambushed him at Christmas with the one-year-old goofy pup. Then they named her Pancake after she stole breakfast off the table.
He rolled his eyes. Emery just batted her lashes.
He cocked his head to look at Juliette and Mateo. “You two thinking of getting a dog?”
Juliette nodded. “We want one, but I’m concerned about leaving a dog home alone with both of us working long shifts.”
“I think I’ve got it worked out,” Mateo said. “Davey at the station mentioned a woman who’s opened a doggie daycare and boarding business out at the edge of town. We should check it out. If it looks good, the dog goes to daycare when we’re both on shift. She does training too.”
Gage nodded. “Good idea. You don’t want to leave a golden on its own, especially if it’s young. It’ll get bored and tear your house apart. You’ll need to find a way for it to run and burn off energy. But Pancake? She’s all heart. They’re great dogs.”
Chase and Melanie rose from the booth. They talked a minute longer, then Chase tossed bills on the table and stalked through the bar to the back door.
He was pissed and barely keeping a lid on it.
Melanie got her coat and headed for the front. Gage pushed his empty plate back. “Mateo, you and Juliette have a seat.” He nodded to Shane. “Tell Owen I’ll come back to settle up.”
He ignored Shane’s low whistle. Grabbing his coat, he headed for the door.