Page 15 of Mountains Divide Us

I whirled around, trying not to show my shock. How the fuck did she know about that already? And of course I wasn’t wearing a goddamn sweatshirt to a dinner date.

She smirked. “Small town.” Tapping her temple with her finger, she said, “You hear the gossip every day. Did you really think you’d be the one to escape it?”

I grumbled, “Damn no-good busybodies.”

She snorted. “You are a literal curmudgeon.”

Narrowing my eyes, I glared at her, and she laughed and turned back toward her desk. “Well,” she said, “so who asked who out?” When I didn’t answer, she added, “Obviously Sam asked you. As if you’d even open your mouth long enough for that many words to come out.”

“I asked her,” I said, and I tried to leave it at that, but I should’ve known better.

“Really?” She spun back around. “Nuh uh. I don’t believe it.”

Carey slammed the door on the way out of his office. “Don’t believe what?” he asked as he flipped through mail on Shelley’s desk. Our receptionist wasn’t any more organized than Abey. If Carey could find what he was looking for, I’d buy a lottery ticket.

“Frank asked the librarian out.”

Carey paused, looking at me. “You did?”

“Yeah,” I said. “What’s the big deal?”

“Nothin’. Um”—he made a face and turned his head in Abey’s direction so she could help him wiggle out of the conversation—“it’s just that…”

She took a deep breath before she made it worse. “It’s just that you don’t usually… um. You know, you’re not the friendliest guy. No, that’s not what I meant.” She winced. “What I mean is—”

Carey changed the subject to shut her up. “Where’s Shelley?”

Abey answered, focusing back on her food. “She ran down to the Discount Mart to get somethin’ for little Liam’s school project. Q-tips or cotton puffs or somethin’.”

“She couldn’t do that after work?”

“Don’t look at me,” Abey said. “You know that woman does whatever she wants. I ain’t gonna try to stop her. Are you?”

Carey’s face changed from annoyed to uncertain, and then he scrunched it up. “Tell her I said to go shoppin’ on her own time.”

“Yes, sir, Sheriff Michaels. Sure,” Abey joked. “I’ll do that right after I tell your wife she needs to feed you better so you ain’t so grumpy in the middle of the day. Both of those comments would go over about as well as a fart in church.”

“Nice,” I said. “You got a mouth on you filthier than a trucker.”

“And damn proud of it,” she said, slurping another bite from her plastic spoon. “So fuck a duck.”

Carey rolled his eyes and pushed out the front door as he fixed his hat on his head. “Be back in a bit. I’m headed out to take that call at Milson’s ranch, and I will not tell Frannie what you said, unless you wanna get punched out by a sleep-deprived mother of a tween and a one-year-old.”

“You two are a couple of grumpy buttheads,” Abey said as the door closed. “Carey’s usually much more chipper. What gives?”

“Got me,” I said. “You’ll have to ask him. I don’t go around gossipin’ about shit that ain’t my business.”

Abey smiled, turning toward her desk again, picking up a copy of Country 4-Wheeling magazine. She flipped the pages slowly, then dropped it on top of a book with a half-naked man on the cover who looked like he spent every workout on abs and shoulders. I was steering clear of that subject. “Oh, Frank, you dear, dear man. The whole town’s gonna be talkin’ about you after your date tonight. I’m takin’ bets on how long till you yell at one of those busybodies or threaten to arrest ’em.”

She snickered, and I grabbed my gun and holster, slung my badge over my neck, and got the fuck out of there.

“C’mon, Grumbly.” He jumped up from the bed Abey had made for him out of old blankets in the corner and followed me to the door.

“You named your dog Grumbly? Oh my God!”

Her fit of laughter was the last thing I heard before I let the door slam shut behind me.

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