Page 14 of Four Steps to the Perfect Fake Date

“They survived, as did Chuck and Iris. Iris put the gun away and got a warning. Chuck was told to fix his fence. Hank told me to expect another call within three days.”

Daphne bit back a smile. “Is being sheriff all you thought it would be and more?”

“I feel very qualified to be a kindergarten teacher.”

Daphne laughed, then winced as pain shot through her face.

“Still sore?”

She grunted. “Likely will be for a while.”

“What do you think of Lane?” He led her toward the kitchen, and Daphne realized the hallways connected to the main room in a big U shape, with interview rooms in the center and her new office on the opposite side to the kitchen. They stopped in front of the coffee machine, where the sheriff filled up her mug before pouring one for himself, draining the last of the carafe into his cup. Daphne was slightly surprised to see him follow Shirley’s rules by immediately setting another pot to brew. Apparently the sheriff wasn’t too self-important to keep the communal kitchen operating smoothly.

Maybe he’d grown up in the years they’d been apart.

She leaned against the counter and pursed her lips. “I think he probably felt desperate and acted impulsively yesterday. He’s younger than I thought.”

“Turns eighteen in three weeks,” Flint said.

“Old enough to know better.”

Flint grunted. “Worked at the tech repair shop on Seventh Ave up until he got fired for too many no-shows. His bike got stolen three months ago, and the family only has one car. Owner said he’s a bit of a tech whiz kid, but he couldn’t keep him on if he wasn’t reliable.”

“He said he wanted to help his mom pay rent with the money.”

“The Lanes don’t have much,” Flint agreed. Daphne glanced over and noted the tightness around his eyes, the way his hand clutched the edge of the counter so hard his knuckles were striped white and red. She wondered if he was thinking of his own upbringing. The Flints hadn’t had much either.

“What are you going to do about him?” she asked.

He turned to face her, hazel eyes steady as they met her gaze. He had thick lashes, she noticed. She’d always thought his eyes were too pretty for the rest of his face, but now that the rest of him had grown up, they seemed to fit. He had a few fine lines around his eyes, a bit of roughness from wind and weather on his skin. He arched a dark brow. “Depends how you feel.”

Daphne frowned. “Me?”

“You’re the one who got hit.” Flint’s arm moved, then stopped, like he’d caught himself reaching up to touch her bruises. He flexed his hand and turned to look at the progress of the coffee maker.

Daphne hummed. “I saw his temple. I think we can call it even.”

Flint glanced over and watched her for a beat, then dipped his chin. “I’ll let him sit in that holding cell for a while, then slap him with a warning and let him go. I spoke to Mr. Stringer, the jam man, and he doesn’t want to press charges. He’s just glad he got his cashbox back. Was only about two hundred bucks in there, anyway. Mostly, people are talking about what a hero you were.”

Was that a smile twitching at the corners of his lips?

Daphne straightened her spine and gave him an arch look. “And you disagree?”

“I know you better than they do, Cupcake,” he said.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? And stop calling me that.”

“You can pretend to be a nice, responsible, boring woman as much as you like, Davis, but I know the truth.”

Daphne opened her mouth to retort but was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. Flint pulled it out of his pocket, his brows tugging together when he glanced at the screen. “Gotta take this. Don’t let all the accolades get to your head.”

“You’re a prick, Flint.”

He flashed her a smile on his way out, and all Daphne could do was seethe as he walked away. His butt looked good in the dark-blue uniform pants, which—wait, no. No, his butt didn’t look good. Well, fine, one couldn’t deny that itdid, but the sheriff’s ass was none of her business. Especially when it was attached to such an insufferable man. She was here to study the numbers. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Best get back to it.

Chapter 5

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