Hold Me Tight Page 4

  "I'll do my best. He flipped open his notebook and scribbled something. I had a feeling he was doing it for effect. "So Brynn? What are you doing this summer?"

  "Oh, not much."

  "And how is your dad? You still sneaking liquor out of his bar?"

  Brynn blinked. I blenched my teeth. He was making her so uncomfortable. I wished she were mine so I could tell him to get lost. "No," she said. "I don't."

  Nick looked up. "Oh, come on, don't sound so freaked out, that was awesome. You were a good friend. Always supplying us with booze."

  "Well, that's the only reason you guys let me hang around, right?"

  "One of the reasons, yeah!" His eyes bounced down to her chest.

  I wished she were mine so she'd let me take care of her.

  Brynn stepped back, crossing her arms.

  Her hunched protective posture was the last straw. I saw red. "Okay! Here!" I nearly shouted. I pressed my own foot next to the bootprint Nick had no interest in actually investigating. Then I took a picture of it and shoved my phone in his face, blocking his view of Brynn's chest. "For reference. I'm a size twelve."

  Nick was still pretty fit from police academy. But I was a good three inches taller than him. He was forced to look up to me if he wanted to look me in the eye.

  Which he didn't.

  Brynn gave me an odd look, but I was too far gone. "What's you number?" I pressed him. "I'll text it to you right now, so there's no delay in the investigation."

  Nick reached for his badge. "Here's my card."

  "Cool. And your badge number?" I couldn't keep the implied threat out of my voice.

  Nick heard it. "Do we have a problem here, McCabe?"

  "No problem at all. I just want to make sure you take this as seriously as I do."

  Anger flashed in his eyes, and his fingers brushed over his holster. I'd pushed him too far.

  I forced myself to step back and turn to Brynn. "Hey, you know what? Your brother might know what kind of boot this is, since he works in outdoor tours."

  Brynn nodded slowly. "Maybe they sell this brand at the outfitters?"

  I snapped my fingers. "Smart thinking. We should look over there. See if they have any sales records." I turned back to Nick. "Don't worry. We'll do your job for you."

  Nick folded his arms over his chest. "There's not much we can do with a footprint. How can you be sure it's not form a neighbor? You're overreacting."

  "Yeah, we are," Brynn interjected.

  But I shook my head. "What? So you'll need someone to actually hurt her before you do your job?"

  "No one is going to hurt her," Nick scoffed. "Right. Because I'll make sure of it."

  Chapter Seven

  Brynn

  I was scared.

  But the second I saw Nick, that raw, real feeling was drowned out by a tidal wave of learned habits.

  Don't upset him.

  Don't cause drama.

  Don't be a pain in the ass.

  The fear was already a distant, inappropriate memory.

  And Everett reminding me of it was as unwelcome as the fear itself.

  "Hey now." I waved my hands at Rett like he was a spooked horse. "Back off, Boy Scout. It's not a big deal."

  Rett stepped back from his stare down with Nick. He ran his hand through his hair, making it stick up crazily.

  I took a deep breath and tried to still my shaking hands. I tried to smile. Seeing Rett in disarray reminded me of my own fear. I didn't like it. "Rett. Stop being weird."

  He ignored me. "I'm going to text you the picture. Right now," he rumbled to Nick.

  The air was thick with a weird, unbearable tension. I didn't know how to deal with it. A sick little giggle escaped my lips and suddenly I was laughing like crazy.

  It was all so absurd, the three of us making a huge deal out of nothing more than a footprint in the grass. "Guys! It's nothing! It's fine. Not a big deal at all." I turned to Nick. "Sorry to bother you, man." I swallowed. "It was good to see you again," I lied.

  Nick broke his stare down with Rett and puffed up. "It was good to see you too, Reese's Pieces." My smile faltered at my old nickname, but I pasted it back into place. "And you've got nothing to worry about. I've been on the force a while. I've got a nose for trouble and this doesn't smell like trouble. Probably a tourist taking a shortcut back from the falls."

  "Yeah, that's it. I'm sure of it. You're absolutely right." I nodded enthusiastically.

  A noise from Rett's direction let me know he disagreed. I ignored my still racing heart and shot him a look. "Don't worry about it, Rett."

  Nick faced Rett and rolled his eyes. "Man, McLame. You don't change, do you?"

  I winced at the nasty high school nickname. But Rett held Nick's gaze long enough that Nick finally backed down. When he retreated to his patrol car, something in my chest unknotted and I took a full breath for the first time.

  The Queen of Kegstands. A fun name for a terrible time.

  My mom didn't disappear all at once. Right before she split for good, there was a period where she would be there one day and gone the next. Every day I'd come home later and later, hoping to find her waiting for me. I figured, in some strange way, that if I let her catch me coming home drunk and stumbling through the door, I'd force her to mother me somehow. We may fight, but at least she'd be there.

  But my mother was a tornado. Unpredictable. And just as destructive. And every time she wasn't there when I came home late, I came home later the next night. It would have been awful to come home to her anger.

  But it was even harder to come home to her absence. So I stayed in the woods with my friends, and stopped coming home at all.

  I'd put those days behind me. Derek and Jesse seemed happy to do the same. But Nick wouldn't let me move on. He couldn't know the hurt he caused when he called me that. I laughed and went along with it. I called myself it as well.

  I couldn't be mad.

  "I'll keep an eye on the place," Nick called out his window.

  The idea of Nick coming back again made me anxious. "It's nothing!" I called. "Don't worry about it, okay?"

  "Stop playing it off like it's nothing," Rett rumbled in a voice that cut right through me.

  "But it probably is," I wavered, unable to keep from swaying a little.

  He saw, and came to my side. "Let's get you inside."

  "I can do it myself." But his hand went to the small of my back anyway.

  As he helped me up the stairs, I stopped for a second. The flood of adrenaline that had poured through me when I saw that unfamiliar bootprint suddenly drained away. I yawned hugely.

  Rett wrapped his arm around my waist just a bit more tightly that what friendship called for.

  I chalked it up to worry. We were friends. We'd known each other forever. My brother was his best friend. He'd just always been around. Now he was around again. The New Year's closet mistake needed to stay in the past with the rest of my regrettable decisions.

  But every cell in my body came alive under his touch.

  Whether it was alcohol or adrenaline that propelled me, I couldn't be sure. But I turned to him. With me on the porch and him on the step below, our faces were level. His lips were so tempting.

  I leaned in.

  He leaned away.

  "Call me if you need anything." His face was half in shadow. "I like being useful. So you tell me what you need, okay?"

  For a second, I considered telling him exactly what I needed.

  Instead I smiled. "Sure."

  With one last nod, he retreated down my walkway. Leaving me wondering why I felt so rattled. Was it the prowler that had me shaking?

  Or was it him?

  Chapter Eight

  Everett

  I nosed my car out of the hospital parking lot and waved my thanks to the minivan full of tourists that let me in front of them. Then I sighed and switched on my radio, resigning myself to the slow crawl back into town.

  It was the official start of the season. Friday
evenings in June in Reckless Falls always brought a line of cars that stretched for miles. Like a slow parade into town. The population swelled to ten times its normal amount. Every hotel and bed and breakfast had a No Vacancy sign out front. And every cafe and diner was packed with people celebrating the start of the season.

  The sun was still high in the sky over Whaleback Mountain. It would be light past nine tonight, and everyone was taking advantage of it. The deep blue lake was dotted with boats and Jet Skis whined so loud I could hear them over my radio. Main Street was so clogged that pedestrians ambling along the sidewalk moved faster than me. Normally this would bug me. I avoided Main Street all summer long.

  But tonight I had a reason to brave the crowds.

  I was headed to see my friend.

  Lake Country Tours was wedged between Mrs. Feathergill's dusty antiques store and Scoop's Ice Cream Station. A good location, especially in summer time. I pulled into the municipal lot behind it. I parked, then reached into my pocket one more time to make sure I had my phone.

  A bootprint just under her window like that meant someone was looking in. Were they making sure she wasn't home?

  Or were they watching her while she was?

  Both thoughts unnerved me in equal measure. And I knew they'd unnerve Cal too. I'd have to be cagey about how much I told him.

  When I opened the door, he looked up and raised his eyebrows in quick greeting before returning his attention to the older hippie-looking couple seated at his desk. As he went over tour packages, I paced around his shop, picking up brochures and putting them back down again.

  "Hey man," Callum greeted me once older couple packed up. They looked immensely pleased.

  "Hey." I sat down and waved one of the brochures. "I just read about a new excursion I want to try. When are you going to start offering donkey rides down the gully?"

  "Why? You volunteering to be one of the asses?" He grinned as he shook my hand.

  "You want asses, not assholes. I'm completely overqualified."

  "Touché. What's going on? Weird seeing you here at work."

  "I know. I should stop by more."

  "Nah. Neither one of us wants you to do that."

  "True. I'd hate to embarrass you by witnessing your failure."

  He leaned back and stretched. "Failure my ass. I booked fifteen tours for the next week. Man I love summer."

  "Harper's not going to like that," I pointed out.

  "She'll like the money. Diapers cost a fucking fortune and I swear Ellie poops every fifteen minutes."

  "That's why I like being an uncle. She shits herself, I can give her right back."

  "Oh come on, you know you want your own little rug rat. But first you'd need to get laid."

  "Fuck you." I grinned amiably and pulled out my phone.

  A text message blinked on the screen. "I didn't see you before you headed out, so just a reminder, see you tomorrow at the Country Club 7PM," the message from Hal read.

  I sighed heavily and ignored it as I swiped to my photos. "Hey. Make yourself useful," I said to Cal, "Look at this picture." I flicked to the shot of the two bootprints. "The one on the right, with that tread, is that a hiking boot?"

  Cal looked at me quizzically before leaning forward. "The smaller one? Yeah, probably. Though based on that tread pattern I'd say it's more of a hiking shoe."

  "Shoe?"

  "Yeah. Someone who does trail running or something like that." He leaned back again. "Why do you ask?"

  I pressed my lips together. Telling him why I had this picture would mean telling him why I was outside of Brynn's house. He'd asked me to check in on her, true. But he'd done that because he thought my feelings for her were sisterly and innocent. I needed to distract him, and setting up a joke at my expense was the easiest way to do that. "Some asshole keeps cutting across my lawn." I lied.

  "Oh no, is he trampling your flowers?" Cal took the bait immediately. "Not your hydrangeas, the horror!"

  I sighed. "Go on, let it all out."

  "I hope the brute gets scratched by your rose bushes. It'd serve him right."

  "Those were there when I bought the place," I pointed out.

  "Doesn't matter. You still spend way too much time pruning them."

  "You have to prune roses. It keeps them healthy."

  Cal fixed me with a withering glare. "Just once," he sighed. "Just once I'd like you to fuck something up. Anything. Let your grass die. Forget an appointment. Get tomato sauce on your shirt."

  "Not gonna happen." I stood up and shook his hand again. "I have to give you something to aspire to."

  He sighed. "Grayson and Harper call me a control freak. But I've got nothing on you, man." He clasped my hand. "Where you headed now?"

  I looked down at my watch. "You working late?"

  His face fell. "Yeah, I'm here till nine. Too much business to snap up."

  The bell over the door jingled. I nodded. "Keep my niece properly diapered," I hissed to him.

  "Thanks man," Cal said, distracted. "Hi, welcome to Lake Country Tours!" he called to the milling tourists.

  I walked from his shop feeling a mix of amusement and admiration. Amusement at Cal running a business and being forced to deal with the public in a civilized manner. Admiration because my friend was doing well for himself and his family.

  I pulled out my phone and swiped to the unanswered text message from Hal.

  "I'll be there," I typed back.

  He must have been waiting by his phone because he replied instantly. "Don't forget to bring a date!"

  I took a deep breath and shoved my phone back in my pocket. There was only one person I could imagine bringing with me to this function. I'd just finished talking to her brother. And now I was turning the corner towards her father's bar.

  Chapter Nine

  Brynn

  It was the first real weekend of the tourist season, so I'd planned from the get-go to help my dad with the rush.

  I'd spent most of the day serving drinks and answering questions about what to do in town. "If you really want to see what this area has to offer," I told the tourists, "I recommend Lake Country Tours."

  Did I neglect to mention my brother owned that touring company?

  Oops.

  We didn't sell food, but did a brisk business with nacho plates and fried mozzarella sticks up until nine PM. When I finally had a moment to breath, I looked over at my Dad.

  He'd been at it since nine this morning. He was closing in on a twelve-hour shift, and my daughter-guilt kicked in. "Go home, Dad. The rush is over. I can handle the rest."

  "Nah," he growled.

  Patrick Reese was a stubborn man, but is daughter was more stubborn. I planted my hands on my hips. "Go home." I flicked my rag at him.

  "You go home. I'm fine."

  "You're not fine, you're old and grumpy."

  "That's why I'm a good bartender." But he leaned back against the back wall and sighed.

  "There's no reason for you to be working so damn hard now, Dad. I got it. Go home. You're a fucking pain in my ass."

  His eyes widened. "Jumping jellybeans, child. You've got a mouth on you that you didn't get from me."

  "You're the only fifty-something bartender in the world who says 'fiddlesticks' and 'jumping jellybeans.'" I grinned. "Go home, Dad. Save your energy for when I suddenly get a life and stop offering."

  He raised one eyebrow. I could tell he was about to make some kind of smartass observation but his face stiffened in a suppressed yawn. He clapped his hand over his mouth, then sighed. "Okay you caught me."

  I laughed as he stomped away. I listened to make sure I heard the back door close, then finished to wiping the glasses as they came out of the dishwasher. As I did, I hummed busily to myself. Like I could drown out the little buzz of anxiety that sung through my veins.

  I'd just bought a brand-new journal. With its beautifully thick pages, leather cover, and crisp binding, it would be the perfect place to collect my thoughts.

  If
I ever sat down with it. But so far it sat unopened.

  No wait, I did open it. And had no idea what to do with the blank pages.

  I squeaked my rag across a glass and sighed in frustration. Why did I always do this? Why did I always make sweeping pronouncements about a changing in my life, and then never follow through?

  The front door opened.

  My cheeks heated. Were his eyes always so green or was it just a trick of the light?

  I swallowed and summoned my most casual, unaffected smile. "Hey Rett You look less terrible than last night."

  He licked the corner of his mouth before sitting down right in front of me. I stared at the spot he'd licked, the way it shone in the low light. I stared so hard that I almost jumped when his mouth started moving.

  "You look really pretty," he said.

  The offhandedness of his remark took me aback and I tried to recover my tongue. "You using me for drinks again?"

  His only response was a quiet smile, so without a word, I reached for the bottle of bourbon that he and I had gotten into yesterday.

  He accepted the first drink with a raised glass, and I watched him knock it back. The way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down made my throat go dry and I downed my own drink to wet it.

  The silence stretched out too long to be comfortable. I had to fill silences. It was a bad habit of mine, and this one just ached to be filled. So, without thinking, I started babbling about the first thing that came to my mind.

  Why the hell was that my mother?

  "I sent my dad home. He works too much, you know?" I watched my hands slice through the air as I punctuated my sentence with a flourish, then forced myself to press them flat against the bar. I studied my knuckles rather than look into Rett's calm, appraising eyes. "My dad always feels that he has to make it up to us that our mom split. I think if he could somehow asexually divide himself into two parents, he would." Mortified at the gross image I'd just conjured, I looked up.

  But Rett just watched me quietly, with no judgment in his eyes. He lifted his chin upward in a slight, encouraging nod. My embarrassment my morbid babble slowly ebbed away. "He doesn't understand that we don't need her, you know? It's like... he stepped in to fill her shoes and filled them out so well that he made her unnecessary. At least as far as I'm concerned." I wondered where all this was coming from.