Page 69 of Wild Card
Wisdom.
As if I had any of that. I was a walking disaster.
The memory of Axel’s expression when I left him in that bathroom at Glitter Balls haunted me. I’d just been so damn mad at myself for letting him use sex as armor, for weakening my resistance to the point I’d take such risks with him.
It hadn’t been fair to blame it on him, though. I was the fucking problem. I was the sheriff’s deputy who couldn’t stop playing with fire. It wasn’t fire’s fault when it burned you; that was its nature.
I pulled out my phone to check my messages, even though I knew what I’d see. A big fat nothing on the text stream with Axel—the one where he’d initially invited me to meet with Allison Prince and where later I’d tried to apologize for storming off.
He’d left me on read.
My gut twisted into a knot. I secured my phone in a compartment on my utility belt and climbed out of the car. Might as well drown my sorrows with grease and sugar.
I let myself in, the door chiming with my arrival. Brenda looked over from the counter where she was working the register. Marty and his new girlfriend, Sasha, were paying their bill.
I tipped my hat to them and started toward the soda fountain–style counter that lined the front of the restaurant.
“Dalton!”
I turned to see Deputy Zach Larson waving enthusiastically for me to join his table. Ava, from the front desk, and Deputy Eric Sing were with him.
I wasn’t much in the mood for company, but it would be rude not to join them. I pivoted on my heel, striding in their direction.
One of the town bankers, Warren Gold, was looking cozy with his lady friend, Stella, who worked at the pharmacy. They were both in their seventies, but they were cute as heck as they shared a milkshake.
Hailey Peterson, who’d sold me my cabin, brightened as I passed by her table. She reached out and caught my arm. “Oh, Dalton! I’ve been meaning to ask if you’re ready to move out of that shack in the woods yet.”
Her trilling laugh grated on my nerves.
“You sold me that shack in the woods,” I said mildly. “Remember?”
“Of course! And I’m sure you’ve given it all the TLC it deserves.”
That was a generous statement. I’d made a few improvements, but I hadn’t had enough downtime lately to keep up with my laundry, much less caulk the leaky windows and re-tile the kitchen.
“But if you ever want to move into town…” Hailey suggested hopefully.
“I’ll keep you in mind.”
I moved on, nodding to Frank and Nora Young, dodging Mimi Howard, who would no doubt want to talk my ear off about her latest complaint about her neighbor, and gave a wide berth to the table where Mayor Prince and his staff were sitting—minus Dallas, who’d been fired shortly after the news got out about him harassing Emory.
At least he’d paid in some small way. But it wasn’t nearly enough. Maybe I’d visit Dallas later. See if I could catch a peek at his car and suss out if it was involved in that hit-and-run. I’d already put out a call to the area’s auto shops—minus Forrester, because Dallas was persona non grata there—but I hadn’t gotten any hits on repair jobs that might indicate the perp trying to hide his handiwork.
“Hey, sweetie,” Ava said. “Take a load off.”
“Thanks.” I slid into the booth beside Eric, our oldest deputy on the squad. He’d been through three sheriffs. “How’s everyone doing today?”
“Same old shit,” Zach said with a frown.
Zach was always smiling, so that got my attention. “What is it?”
Eric sighed. “Sheriff told him to drop the charges against a kid who was drag racing last week.”
Zach picked up the story. “Sheriff Hale said it wasn’t worth the red tape. At first, I didn’t think much of it. A lot of teens do this shit. It’s a misdemeanor, at best.”
I nodded. “It’s dangerous if left unchecked, though. They could kill someone.”
“Yeah, and apparently the kid’s uncle is Joe Halgren,” Eric said dryly.
