Page 11 of Loving My Enemy

The offer was too damn tempting considering it was unseasonably warm, or maybe it was just the right amount of warm for Tulip, Texas. Either way, a ride sounded divine. Was the cost was too steep? But this was what I wanted: to be part of a community. To belong. “Fine. Just leave the details.” Before I was finished talking, she was pulling a folder from her black leather bag.

“This is all the details, including a map of where your booth is and its dimensions. If you have any questions, feel free to call.” The look in her eyes said she knew I wouldn’t, but that the offer still stood.

“Thank you, Penny. And you don’t have to give me a ride. I’ll manage.” It felt dirty to extort a ride out of someone trying to do something charitable.

“I don’t mind.”

I did. “I still have to pack them up and check them, so it’ll be hours. Honestly, Penny, I’ll do the fair. No strings.”

She gave me a long, assessing look that nearly made me squirm. Luckily, her stare was nowhere near as intimidating as my mother’s. “If you’re sure.”

“I am,” I told her and walked her to the door with a promise to call if I needed anything. We both knew it was probably a lie, but thankfully Penny just waved and walked away.

And because I didn’t like lying, I waited a full hour after she was gone to start my trips to the post office. It took three trips and by the time I made the last one, I was beyond exhausted and reconsidering my opinion on my own physical fitness. The sun hung bright in the sky, mocking me for being so determined to do things myself. Well, if the sun knew my story, I was sure she’d understand.

The sound of a car nearby put me on alert, but I kept walking. I didn’t have the energy to turn my head and risk the boxes falling to the ground.

“Need a ride?”

I knew that voice, and it’s owner was the last person I’d take a ride from. Even if I was marching through the desert without any water in sight. Instead of saying that, I decided to employ one of the lessons drilled into me as a child. If you can’t say something nice, say nothing.

“Look, I’m sorry about my behavior, okay?”

Some apology. Not that his lack of sincerity mattered. I was sure once the truth came out, the sheriff would force him to apologize. I didn’t want it, because he didn’t mean it. I kept walking, ignoring the way my arms trembled and the sweat trickling down my neck and onto my back.

Officer Vargas didn’t give up until I walked inside the post office, all without saying a word in reply. It was enough to make a girl smile with pride. I did, once my arms were free. Not only did I have a wide, confident smile, but I stopped and picked up a juicy burger with cheese and bacon, waffle fries, and pickles on the side.

Despite everything that happened, I was starting to like the new me.

I just wondered if she belonged in Tulip.

Chapter 7

Antonio

“It’s too damn early for this.” Jackson Slater worked with me and Tyson, serving as the official investigator for our small department. He raked a hand through dark brown hair—which looked like it had been combed with a woman’s fingers—and sighed. “How in the hell did I get roped into this?”

Thisbeing yet another craft festival that brought artists, artisans, and other craft-makers from all the surrounding counties to Tulip. Usually I did police duty for these things, but this time, I was there as man candy. According to Janey anyway.

I smiled. It was the same question all the guys who’d agreed to pose for the Hometown Heroes calendar had asked themselves at least once since Janey roped us into it. “Probably ‘cause you’d rather endure this than a relentless Janey.” The woman was like a hound who’d picked up a scent, sinking her teeth into you until you gave up. “I’ll buy you a coffee.”

He stopped between two booths—the buttered sweet corn sold by Trixie Bell and the sweet corn jellies sold by her twin sister Mimi. “What’s the catch?”

“Why does there have to be a catch?”

Jackson flashed a smug grin. “If you have to ask that question, then it’s time to get you investigating real crimes again.”

“All crime is real crime,” I reminded him. It was truth but it was also a bullshit line I used to get out of talking about why I didn’t take Jackson’s job, despite having more experience. “Besides, I’m happy to help make you look good.”

Jackson stroked the stubble on his jaw he hadn’t bothered with and grinned. “Like I need your help for that. Tell me what this coffee is gonna cost me.”

That was the problem when your closest friends were also in law enforcement—you couldn’t bullshit them. “You’re assigned to Elka’s Essence booth today.” It wasn’t a question. I’d gone over the damn map at least a dozen times to make sure I wouldn’t have to ask twice.

“Anything but that.” Jackson’s expression went from warm to Arctic in an instant, which meant he’d heard about my behavior even though he’d been away at a forensics conference last week. “Christ, man, you aimed your piece at her?”

How many times was I doomed to explain myself? “It was an honest mistake.”

“There you go, lying again. It’s becoming a habit.” Usually I appreciated Jackson’s laid-back attitude; it made him a good drinking companion and friend. Today, it only made me want to slug him. “You want to keep an eye on her?”

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