Page 53 of Honey Bee Hearts

He laughs again, as if this is the funniest conversation he’s ever had. I don’t find it funny. “Why does fucking have to mean anything?” he asks seriously.

I raise my brows. “Oh. Oh, wow. Okay. I’m guessing you never went to therapy, huh?”

He frowns, genuinely confused. “Why would I need therapy? I’m fine.”

“Another onion,” Jinx says. “They’re all onions. But that baggage? Sheesh.”

I blow out a puff of air and reach over to pat him on the shoulder. “I think it’s about time to head back.”

Rhett grabs my hand as I stand. He grins up at me, and he’s never looked more like a rogue than he does right now. The sun is shining on him perfectly, his eyes are the brightest blue against his white outfit, and he just looks perfect.

“I’m gonna win you over, Wild West Barbie. Just you wait,” he promises.

I smile at him, knowing I won’t be sleeping with him. After all, unlike Rhett, I have no qualms about my feelings. I know without a doubt I can’t sleep with Rhett and feel nothing, and I’m just not prepared for that kind of heartbreak. I don’t know if I could recover from it.

“We’ll see,” I tell him, but I don’t mean it. Because Rhett is just like these mountains. Strong, unmoving. . .

. . . With an echo of screams in the air. . .

Chapter 29

Fable

Afew days later, I find myself sitting with Colt again out in the kennels. The puppies have grown so much just in the few weeks I’ve been at Circle Bee, including little Rugby. Jethro sits at my feet, playing gently with the puppies while Colt goes over all the training levels they go through. He’s been a little more reserved today, but he’s taken every opportunity to touch me he can.

If I reach for a puppy, our hands brush together as he pushes the puppy toward me. When I take the clipboard he gives me, his fingers touch my hand and slide down my arm as he releases it. I move left, he moves left with me, as if he’s looking for an excuse to bump into me. With each small touch, the tension between us only grows until I’m panting a little under my breath in frustration. Honestly, I’m not sure what’s happening. I decide at first not to mention it, but he’s always there, ready to brush against me. It shouldn’t bother me. It certainly shouldn’t be affecting me the way it is.

“So, I know you said you were a cop,” I try as a distraction. “Why did you quit?”

He glances at me as we let the puppies out in the big yard to play with the bigger dogs. “It’s not exactly a nice story.”

“I can handle it,” I say.

“You’re too sweet for such dirty stories,” he replies.

I scowl at him. “Y’all keep calling me sweet like I’m some porcelain doll in need of protection. I grew up in a house filled with drugs, expecting every day I saw my mother passed out on the couch for it to be the day I’d have to call the cops because she’d overdosed. Don’t tell me I’m too sweet for shit,” I growl.

I hadn’t meant to drop that fact in such a way. My mother is another topic I barely talk about, mostly because even if she’s still alive, she’s been dead to me for years. I used to think I could save her, that if I loved her enough and forgave her every time, she’d eventually be a better mother. I was wrong. Once I became an adult, all she ever came around for was money. If it wasn’t for Jinx, I’d have been in a much darker place after school. She kept me sane. My mother didn’t do shit.

Colt blinks at me, his expression turning hard. “She still alive?”

I shrug. “Last I heard, yeah. She hasn’t contacted me since I told her how I felt about her when she asked me to borrow a couple thousand dollars for the hundredth time.”

He blows out a breath and touches my cheek. “There are so many things I couldn’t protect you from before you ever got here. If I could go back and do so, I would.”

I blink at him. “You barely know me, Colt.”

His eyes glitter dangerously. “I know everything about you, Fable Everhart.” He trails his hand down my shoulder, down my arm, and takes my hand. “But truthfully, I was a shit cop.”

“I find that hard to believe,” I say. Honestly, Colt seems like the perfect man to be a cop now that I know him better. His emotions are always in check. He holds himself to a standard most men don’t. The way he interacts with Dolly tells me he’scapable of empathy. So what could possibly make him think he was a bad cop?

His lips quirk up. “At first, it was easy, sure. I enjoyed the job, enjoyed helping people, but. . . there’s a side to being a cop people who aren’t one never see.” His smile falls. “Out here, in small towns, police forces are different. Steele, we have a good one, but up in Pinedale, in many places, the cops are as corrupt as the politicians. They accept bribes. They let dangerous people go. And they don’t punish the rich when they get in trouble.” He shakes his head. “The justice system is for the poor. The rich get away with everything.”

“So you saw that and left?” I ask, watching him carefully.

He laughs and avoids my gaze. “No. I didn’t leave. In fact, I reveled in it.” His thumb traces a pattern on my hand that I don’t recognize. “I grew up with a strict dad and an absent mother. My dad was a cop, and it was his entire identity. It made sense that I would follow in his footsteps. When I got a taste of the power, it went to my head.” He finally looks back at me and there’s a hollowness in his eyes I’ve never seen before. “But I have a problem you see.” He steps closer. “I carry the same anger my dad did.” He taps his chest. “Right here.”

I tilt my head. “I’ve never seen you angry.”

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