Page 71 of Four Steps to the Perfect Fake Date

“If you have something to say to me, just say it, Hank.”

“Daphne is a good girl, Sheriff. Always plays by the rules. Always does the right thing. That’s all. I don’t want to see her hurt.”

“Is that all anyone around here cares about?” Calvin snapped. “HowgoodDaphne is? How responsible? How many boxes she’s ticked in life? How about you askherif she feels like she’s being toyed with, Hank. How about you ask yourself if there might be more to her than what she lets you see.”

In the pause that followed, Calvin dragged in long breaths and tried to wrangle his temper back under control. He was on edge fromlast night. Frustrated at his own feelings, his own desires. And he was mad that everyone on this godforsaken island seemed to see Daphne as a one-dimensional person who was only good at accounting and doing the right fucking thing.

“I see,” Hank replied quietly when Calvin’s breathing had returned to normal. “I apologize for overstepping.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Calvin’s voice was still harsh. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his eyes glued to the road ahead. He was seething.

“I misread the situation, Sheriff. That’s all. I didn’t think this thing between the two of you was the real deal.”

Calvin almost laughed. Was it real? What the hell was going on? They’d agreed to go to his mother’s vow renewal because Daphne was trying to salvage her reputation, and Calvin ... Calvin didn’t know what he was doing. He was taking whatever scraps of attention he could get, even though he knew it would end badly.

A few minutes later, they pulled into Iris Whittaker’s long gravel driveway. She was wearing rubber boots and an old winter jacket, glaring at two soggy alpacas who were munching on her grass. She was a short woman of about seventy, her head crowned in gray-and-white curls. Today, the shotgun was absent, which sent a little dart of relief through Calvin’s chest.

Sneering at Calvin and Hank as they parked and got out of his truck, she thrust her arm at the animals. “You see what I have to deal with? They’re worse than the deer!”

“Now, Iris,” Hank said, ambling over to her porch. “We’ll get this figured out. No need to get upset.”

“‘Upset. Upset’!” The woman’s face went red. “You watch your tone, young man.”

Hank propped a foot on the first step of her porch and gave her a respectful nod. Calvin turned at the sound of an engine. Chuck Rutgers came bouncing down the driveway in a rusty old Ford, glaring at Iristhrough the windshield. Sighing, Calvin turned to face the other man, lifting an arm to get him to stop.

Chuck had wispy hair that grew in a ring around his head just above his ears. He slammed a hat over his pate as he parked next to Calvin’s truck. The Ford’s door flung open, and Chuck stomped out. He glared at the woman on the porch.

“You’ve been taunting them, haven’t you?” he accused.

“Get your filthy animals off my property!” Iris sneered as she spoke, pointing a gnarled finger at Chuck.

“Who’re you callin’ filthy?”

Hank sighed and exchanged a tired glance with Calvin. He held up his hands. “Let’s just all take a deep breath, folks. Chuck, I’m going to ask you to take a step back. Iris, if you wouldn’t mind going inside the house for a moment.”

“Not while he’s on my land, I won’t,” she said, blazing eyes glued on Chuck’s face.

Chuck smirked, and Calvin wondered if the older man let his alpacas out on purpose to antagonize Iris. He wondered if he lived near Daphne for decades without being able to call her his woman, whether he’d resort to the same just to get her attention.

An hour later, the alpacas were back in their pasture, a heavy squall of rain had hit the island, and Calvin and Hank were on the way back to the station.

“I give ’em three days,” Hank said. “You?”

“Maybe three hours,” Calvin grumbled. “Did Chuck and Iris ever date?”

Hank laughed. “Married, divorced, then married again. The second divorce was messy.”

“And now they live next to each other.”

“Can’t stand each other. Can’t stand being apart,” Hank agreed.

Calvin hummed. He slid into his parking spot and jogged into the station, jacket pulled up over his head to block the rain. As soon as hewas inside, he noticed the clump of deputies standing by the kitchen hallway, sipping coffee, chattering animatedly.

He was sick of people. Sick of all the bullshit. Sick of never getting what he really wanted. He stripped his wet jacket off and hung it up just inside his office door.

That’s when he heard his mother’s voice.

Chapter 25

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