Chapter 3 Grace
GRACE
It’s unseasonably hot for October, or maybe it’s this damn dress that clings to my skin and sticks to the car seat. I reach forward and flick on the air-conditioning, garnering a stare from Mr. Grumpy Pants.
I’ve never met anyone so uptight in my life.
His lips are pulled together into a thin line as he stares straight ahead, eyes on the road.
It’s a shame. If he smiled more and didn’t have those frown wrinkles, he might be good looking with his silver flecked hair cropped short and square jaw line.
But his eyes are too hard, like a frozen lake, and the lines at the sides of them show years of worry.
When Calvin, as I’ve learnt his name is, guided me back to his patrol car, there was no way I was getting into the back seat. If he wants me to ride with him, I ride up front.
I slide my bare feet onto the dashboard and his attention snaps to them, as I knew it would.
“Didn’t you bring your shoes?”
I wiggle my bright pink toenails courtesy of Hope, my sister, who painted them last night at my hastily thrown together bachelorette party.
“The heel broke. That’s why I wasn’t wearing them.”
He frowns at my feet. “No feet on the dashboard.”
“Is it a federal offense or a state one?” I say playfully.
He purses his lips, and my smile widens. I’m not sure why I love annoying this man so much, but it’s my new favorite hobby, maybe because it’s so easy to do.
“It’s an offense to mankind. No one wants to see your grubby toes.”
My eyes go wide in mock horror. “I had them buffed and painted especially.”
Thoughts of Hope soaking my feet in the laundry tub while she poured me another glass of champagne make my chest tighten with guilt.
Calvin made me call my family before we left the clubhouse. He didn’t want anyone tearing around the mountain with worry.
I called Hope because she’s the one who will understand the most. I’m not ready to face Dad’s disappointment yet.
Surprisingly, the call to Tim was much easier. He seemed more relieved than heartbroken at my sudden departure on the morning we were supposed to tie the knot.
“What does a sheriff do on the side of a mountain, anyway? Corral bears? Check that squirrels aren’t stealing other squirrels’ nuts?”
His lips twitch, but his face remains in a thin line. Damn, the man’s forgotten how to laugh.
My gaze strays to the flecks of silver in his dark hair. No denying it’s a sexy as fuck look, but does being a proper grown-up make you miserable?
He opens his mouth to answer but shuts it again as we round the corner. An old red pickup with a rusty tail bar is parked on the side of the road, and he squeezes in behind it.
The pickup is jacked up on one side and a small woman hunches over the tire, her muscles straining as she grips a wrench, trying to loosen the nut.
“You’re about to find out.”
Calvin gets out of the car. “Afternoon, ma’am. You need help?”
The woman straightens up and turns around. Her grey hair is cut short, and deep wrinkles line her face. She appears to be in her seventies, and there’s a hardness about her. Her expression softens when she sees the sheriff.
“Hi Cal. Damn thing won’t come off. They do them up too tight these days.”
He nods and scratches his jaw. “You want me to give it a try, Judith?”
She reluctantly hands the wrench over, and he grips it in both hands and secures it over the nut.
His muscles flex and pull up tight against his sleeves, threatening to burst out of his sheriff’s shirt. A twinge of appreciation curls up my spine and tugs at my core. Damn, the man’s got muscles.
I’m not the only one who’s noticed. Judith has her hands on her hips, watching his muscles dance with open appreciation.
“I told you it was tight, didn’t I?”
He nods. “Sure is.”
I get the feeling he’s making it appear harder than it is. I clap my hands over my mouth to keep from laughing as he makes a show of straining to undo the remaining three nuts.
Calvin reaches to pull the tire off, and she bats him away.
“I’ve been changing my own tires for fifty years; I’m not going to let someone do it for me now.”
He nods and takes a step back, watching as the small woman wrestles with the tire. She rolls it away and comes back with the spare, staggering under the weight. Calvin lurches forward, and she shoos him away.
“I’m no damsel in distress, Cal. I’ve lived my entire life on this mountain, and not once have I needed a man to change my tire for me. No offense to you, Cal, but I’m a mountain woman.”
She says it with pride, and Calvin nods as if what she’s saying makes perfect sense, and it’s not crazy to let a strong, fit man step in and change your tire for you.
But I admire the way he steps back and watches her, giving the old woman respect while not leaving until he’s sure she’s road worthy.
“Make sure you take that straight to Joe’s and get it changed,” he tells Judith before she drives off.
“Will do, Cal.” She pulls onto the road and honks her horn, giving Calvin a friendly wave.
He waves back, watching the pickup until it disappears around the next bend.
I’m beginning to wonder who this man is. He might be Mr. Grumpy Pants, but he’s kind enough to let an old mountain woman keep her dignity and change her own tire.
Calvin slides into the car seat, and I’m about to make a quip when his radio crackles to life.
He listens intently to the message and is already pulling away when he responds.
“Looks like we’re going to a bar fight.”
Ten minutes later we pull up outside a whitewashed building with peeling paint around the window ledges. Faded lettering across the entrance proclaims the Wild Times Bar & Hotel. The front door is a swing door, old saloon style, and I feel like I’ve gone back in time.
“Trouble at the saloon, sheriff?”
His eyes narrow. “Not funny. This is where the locals drink, the ones who can’t afford the swanky resort.”
He emphasizes the last words like he knows that’s where I hitched from, and I look away quickly.
The Emerald Heart resort for wealthy tourists is where my wedding was supposed to be.
It’s also where I work, and I’ve only ever been out to the bars and clubs in the resort.
I’ve never in the year of working there ventured to this side of the mountain.
“Stay here,” he commands, getting out of the car.
The tone of his voice should be a warning, but I’m too intrigued to stay put. Calvin disappears inside the bar, and I get out of the car to stretch my legs.
We appear to be on the main strip of Wild, a small town that’s not on the tourist map. Next to the bar is a general store, and Joe’s Garage is on the other side of the road. I note there’s no sign of Judith’s pickup.
Suddenly two men tumble out the front door and land in a pile of flailing limbs by my feet.
I step back quickly and retreat to the hood of the patrol car. The men jump to their feet yelling curses at one another, and it’s like I’m stuck in a B grade western.
Calvin strides out after the men as if he’s just picked them up and thrown them out with his bare hands. A man hurries after him with a dishcloth over his shoulder who I assume is the owner.
“Go home, fellas.” Calvin stands between them. “Go home and cool off.”
One of the men, his round red face and cheeks mottled, lunges toward the other. Calvin sticks his hand out, and the man stops abruptly.
“How’s Peggy doing, John? How are those chooks of hers?”
The man blinks slowly, and his head swings to face Calvin. His eyes are bloodshot, and it’s obvious he’s drunk.
“What the hell’s Peggy got to do with it?” he roars.
“I like Peggy,” Calvin says in a calm voice, “but I don’t like her when she’s mad. And if I have to haul your ass down to the lock up, she’s gonna come down shouting, cussing out you and me and everything under the sun.”
The man grunts. “He tipped beer on me.” He indicates the other man.
“It’ll be nothing compared to what Peggy does to you, John. Go home. Sleep it off.”
The friendly tone is gone, and there’s a hard glint to his eye.
The man hesitates, sensing the change. He nods slowly, and the fight goes out of him.
“You’re right.” He sighs heavily. “Screw this. I’m going home.” He turns slowly, pats his pockets, then staggers off up a side street.
Calvin turns to the other man. “What’s your name?’”
The man can’t be much older than twenty-one. He’s wearing tan trousers and a salmon pink polo shirt, and he looks out of place in a bar like this.
“If I’m under arrest, I want a lawyer.”
“You’re not under arrest yet.” His tone is clipped, calm with an edge of menace that this dickhead doesn’t seem to pick up on. “This isn’t a bar for tourists. These are hard working men, and half of them just got laid off at the mill. You want to pick a fight, do it somewhere else.”
The kid steps forward and opens his mouth to say something. But Calvin moves faster and stands towering above him. I didn’t notice his height before or the build of his broad shoulders and hard body. Next to the skinny kid, he’s a giant.
“If you’re smart, you’ll do what I say and get the fuck off my mountain.”
My mouth drops open. I had Calvin pegged as an uptight sheriff, but he’s commanding this scene like a boss, applying just the right amount of menace to show this upstart who’s in charge around here.
The boy stares at him, then looks away and takes a step back. Another young guy in a preppy jacket comes out front, and he mumbles something to him and they both head over to a shiny black SUV.
“Not so fast.” Calvin takes a breathalyzer from his pocket. “Who’s driving?”
The skinny kid’s friend raises his hand like they’re still in high school. Calvin quizzes him on what he’s had to drink and makes him use the breathalyzer. Once he's satisfied that he passes, he lets them get into their car.
Then he turns around and strides back to where I’m leaning on the hood of his car.
“I told you to stay in the car.” He cuts me a look as he opens his door.
“And miss all the fun? No chance.”
He watches the SUV pull out. “They’re heading back to the Lodge where they’ll find a nice cocktail bar and other preppy assholes to pick fights with.”
“White Out is good for that.”
He raises his eyebrows at me, surprised at my mention of the night club at the Lodge, which is one of the more popular hotels in the resort.
“I work at the resort. We party at White Out sometimes.”
A vein in his neck twitches, and he looks displeased. Then the look is gone and he’s back to the straightlaced sheriff.
“Get in the car,” he says. “It’s time to take you back to your family.”