Page 5 of Deadly Oath

“I should grab a new air freshener,” she says, just as the raspy tones of a male country singer I wouldn’t begin to recognize drift out of the speakers. “Kids really make a mess of a car. I had a really nice little Ford sedan before I had my third. Now it’s all minivans until one of them grows out of needing a car seat.”

I nod along, trying to seem understanding. The disconnect between the life I lived and the one that Marie currently lives makes me feel like I’m on a different planet—one where, if everyone around me knew what I was thinking, they would find me unbearably spoiled. It’s that perception that I know they’d have of me that keeps me from getting closer to everyone. I can’t imagine telling Marie that the idea of a minivan has never occurred to me, because my eventual plans for children always involved nannies, drivers, and private schools.

Just like my eventual husband would have been, I imagine, very different from what Marie’s marriage looks like—and probably the rest of the women here, too.

I know I seem detached to them. Cold. Like I don’t want to be a part of their lives or world here, making them wonder why I reallymoved here at all. But the truth is, I don’tknowif I want to fit in. For twenty-two years, I believed my life would be a certain way. I was shaped and molded to fit into an entirely different world. And I was given no choice when I was snatched out of that life, and shoved into the one I’m inhabiting now.

“How did you and your husband meet again?” I venture as Marie pulls out of my driveway. I know she’s told me before, but I also know she won’t hold it against me that I don’t remember, and I’m asking again.I should try, I remind myself. And I do like Marie. She’s been nothing but sweet and kind to me since I arrived. She’s nothing like the women I grew up with and around, but that might not be a bad thing.

“Oh, we met at the Crow Bar,” she says cheerfully, pulling out onto the main road that will take us into town. “Right after I graduated high school.”

“That’s the bar in town?” I recall seeing it a number of times during the day, on our way to go and get groceries. I’ve never gone into town at night, though.

“Sure is.” Marie glances over at me, grinning. “Only place to get a drink here. The bartender is really nice. They have dances there a couple of times a month, too. You know how to line dance?”

“I don’t,” I assure her, making a mental note to look up what, exactly, line dancing is when I get back to my computer.

“Well, it’s not that hard to learn.” Marie turns onto Main Street, which is just a strip of road with a series of businesses and shops on either side. “We could get you a pair of cowboy boots.” She gestures down towards the end of one side of the strip. “Then you’d really look the part.”

I try not to wince. “I’ll have to think about that.”

Marie chuckles, parking in front of the coffee shop. I’ve been here a couple of times already—it’s a small, rustic little place called theCedar Bean, which is apparently a play on words that had to be explained to me my first visit here. They have good coffee, and if I could ever figure out how to make my coffee pot work, I could get grounds here from them.

The thought still doesn’t feel right in my head, and I have that sense of displacement again. It’s not that Iminddoing things like making my own coffee or doing my own laundry or grocery shopping. I don’t think I’m above it or anything like that. It’s just—strange. After a lifetime of never needing to do those things—and so many others—I feel like I’m trying to learn how to be a different person.

Honestly, there’s a novelty to it that almost might be enjoyable, if it weren’t for the fact that the circumstances of that displacement were so violent.

I slide out of Marie’s minivan, and instantly shiver as the chilly air hits me. It’s really not that cold, not compared to this time of year in Chicago, but the stress seems to have lowered my tolerance for a lot of things, including cold.

“Here,” Marie says, thrusting a flannel jacket at me. “This’ll warm you right up.”

Reflexively, I start to refuse and then take it from her, anyway.She’s trying to be nice,I remind myself, and here, refusing offers of help and neighborliness is an insult.

I shrug the flannel on, the scent of wood smoke and a man’s spicy deodorant hitting me.It must belong to her husband,I think as I follow Marie into the coffee shop, the little bell chiming above us as the door opens. I breathe in the scent again, an odd sort of loneliness hitting me with a pang in my chest.

I wonder what Kian smells like.The thought comes out of nowhere as we get in line, and I feel my cheeks heat slightly. I shouldn’t be thinking about him like that at all, but the memory of him sitting at my kitchen table suddenly feels more intimate.

What if I wanted to go out on a date with him? I have no intention of taking Sheriff Brady up on his offer, but still—for the first time in my life — I consider what it might be like tochooseto go out with someone. My whole life, I assumed that my future husband would be chosen for me. I would have no say in the matter—or at best, my father would give me the choice of a few suitable options, and let me decide who I liked most. My father loved and valued me in his own way—the fact that I was still unmarried at twenty-two is proof of that—so that wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, back when I was still the only daughter of a powerful Bratvapakhan.

Back when I was Sabrina Petrova, instead of Sabrina Miller. When I lived in a mansion instead of in a small one-bedroom rental home with creaky pipes and a loose front step.

“What do you know about Sheriff Brady?” I ask Marie as we step over to the other side of the counter to wait for our orders—an iced pecan latte for me, and a hot pumpkin spice latte for her. “He stopped by my house this morning.”

“I heard he’s been making the rounds. He stopped by my place a couple of days ago.Whew.” Marie fans herself with one hand, grinning mischievously at me. “He’sgorgeous. Not that I would ever let my husband hear me say that, but what a man. He’s going to have trouble fending off every girl old enough to look at him in this town, married or not. He certainly has his pick—if he’s interested.”

“So he really did take over for the sheriff before. Wayne.” I bite my lip, unsure whether I’m relieved or disappointed to get this information. On the one hand, that means Kianisn’twhat I feared—someone who was trying to get access to me by posing as someone I would be inclined to let into my house.

On the other hand—that means that he lives here, too. That I’ll probably run into him on any number of occasions. That strange feeling squirms through my stomach again, and I’m grateful when the barista pushes my and Marie’s lattes over, giving me a distraction.

“It really was time for Wayne to retire,” Marie says, as we take our coffees back out to the minivan. “He’s getting up there, you know? And he’s had a bit of heart trouble these last couple of years. Now, he can retire with his wife and fish to his heart’s content. Spend time with the grandbabies. I’m glad he finally felt like he could.”

“So where is Sheriff Brady from?” I keep thinking of him asKianin my head, and I chastise myself to stop. The more distance I put between the handsome man who showed up on my doorstep this morning and myself, the better.

I wasn’t lying when I said that I don’t have any space in my life to date right now. I’m trying to figure out how to survive in a new town, anew environment, and how to blend in in a place that couldn’t be more different from how I’ve spent my whole life up until now. And even if I wanted to date him—or anyone—I don’t know how I would begin to go about it. The idea of having free rein over that part of my life, when for so long it hasn’t been up to me at all, is terrifying.

“I don’t actually know.” Marie considers as she pulls out of the parking spot, heading for the road that will take us to the next town over—a town large enough to have a Barnes and Noble. “I didn’t ask when he came by. But he did say he moved here not too long ago, after taking the job. Maybe he wanted to slow down, like you.”

“But no one knows where he worked in law enforcement before? For what city?” I frown, that unsettled feeling that I had when he first showed up on my doorstep flickering back to life. There’s no real reason to think that he’s up to anything nefarious, but—I’m paranoid now. I can’t help it. After everything that’s happened to me recently, I think I have every right to be.

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