Page 97 of An Unfinished Memory

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Save some backbreaking work for me?”

“Changing light fixtures is all yours, cowboy.”

His chuckle prompted a smile. “I have a lot of vacation time, Sutton. I plan to use it.”

“I look forward to it.”

I believed he’d actually take his vacation this time, and I couldn’t wait. In the weeks since the snowstorm, I’d grown accustomed to being alone, and I’d come to a decision. Long-distance dating Wilder was better than being divorced from him. He said things would get better, andmy days were already better than they had been this time last year. I couldn’t help but worry that things would change once he was sheriff, and for us, I wasn’t sure it’d be for the better. But I was willing to two-step with another heartbreak to find out.

Wilder

It was goddamn Valentine’s Day, and I wasn’t with Sutton. Last year for Valentine’s Day, I’d made sure I was working, and it was a shift where I slacked. I had parked in the trees and prayed no one came speeding by. I had wanted to be left the fuck alone.

This year was different, should be different, and yet I was facing a gruff old man instead of the woman I’d rather be deep inside.

Ray had papers scattered in front of him. “So that’s the jail and courthouse security. As you can see, there’s room for improvement. I’ve been trying to justify more technology for years, but voters don’t like to feel like their tax dollars are being spent on prisoners even if it’s spent on systems we use for scheduling and appointments and meetings.”

He hadn’t covered anything I didn’t know. We’d had long talks over these issues, sometimes at the lake with a few beers during the rare times we were both off duty. “Got it.”

Whatever he saw in my expression—boredom, frustration, both—made him shake his head. “It’s beena long week. Go home. Get some rest. We’ll revisit this tomorrow and cover my duties as coroner.”

Great. Didn’t everyone want to talk about dead bodies on a Saturday? “Sure thing.”

He shoved the papers at me. “Take these. Go over them tonight.”

I stacked the budget reports and scheduling lists for the jail over the new department headshot for me as sheriff and concept for a logo for when election season started.

Fuck’s sake. I had a logo.

I knew being sheriff was political, but the reality reared up on me like a spooked horse, all striking hooves and unpredictable behavior. Had Ray made it look easy, or had I taken for granted the office was mine?

Ray had scoured the shift calendar and arranged meetups every free weekend until he was done in April, which wasn’t many, since the department was working short. Ray had taken several more field shifts than he normally did. His extra hours didn’t bode well for getting more free weekends after I took his position. I’d never planned to leave the field, but long days combined with extra shifts and call during short-staffed times weren’t uncommon in this department.

Fuck.

“Going to the game tomorrow night?” he asked.

Ray loved basketball season. I enjoyed watching the kids and not being in an empty house, but since Ray’s retirement announcement, I’d been to a lot of damn games. None had included my niece or nephew. I was showing my face everywhere except for Sutton’s house. “Isn’t it out of town?”

“They’re playing an invitational in King’s Creek.”

That’d be a two-hour drive one way plus the game, but all I heard was tomorrow would be a short day with Ray. “I have to catch up at home.” There was nothing I had to do, but if Ray cut out early enough, I could make a quick turnaround trip to Crocus Valley.

“You and Sutton, uh…”

Prickles skated along the back of my neck. Since the snowstorm, he hadn’t mentioned Sutton, but he’d made damn sure my head was on work and not her, as if that was possible. “Yes.”

“How’s it going?” He tapped his fingers against the back of his hand.

“Good.” A strong word, but she answered my calls, we had phone sex, and she didn’t tell me we were done. Good enough.

The rhythmic finger tapping continued. “Who all knows you two are a thing again?”

“My family.”

He studied me, and I couldn’t get a read on what he was thinking. “It might not be a good look.”

“What?” I didn’t want to hear the answer.

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