Truman lifted an eyebrow at me. “I called your drill a hammer.”
I leaned in and kissed him softly before speaking against his cheek. “I don’t care if you ever learn a thing about construction as long as you continue to bloom and grow.”
Chaya’s goat mask shoved its way between us and knocked Truman’s glasses askew. “Sorry to break up the kissfest, but Deputy Stone has been trying to get your attention.”
I looked over to see the stoic deputy looking a little bit uncomfortable. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but I thought you’d like to know I pulled that video you asked me about.”
Truman’s brows furrowed since the deputy was talking to me instead of him. “From my surveillance system?”
Deputy Stone shook his head. “No. Sam asked me to take a look back through the surveillance video from the business located behind your shop. They gave me access to everything they had, and sure enough, I found the night of your assault. Craig and Patrick Stanner are clearly identifiable on the video and have been taken into custody as a result.”
Truman’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding?”
The deputy looked upset. “I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am that you had to go this long without justice for what you went through.” His eyes flicked to me and back to Truman. “I saw the assault, and it was awful. I’m grateful you’re with us today, and I hope you know that I will continue to monitor the case as it makes its way through the system.”
Truman looked up at me. “It’s… it’s over. They’re in jail.”
Deputy Stone nodded. “And the state police are unraveling the pension scheme. We should have an update on that in the next couple of weeks for you. In the meantime, you know where to find me. There will be plenty of changes in the department, obviously, but you can rest assured, I’ll be here as long as I’m needed.”
A nearby deputy snorted. “Gonna be longer than you think, Stone. You’re the only one they’ll even think of appointing in the sheriff’s place before they can elect a new one.”
I could have sworn Deputy Stone rolled his eyes and muttered, “Lord help us all,” before glancing down at his watch. “It’s not even ten in the morning yet and it feels like midnight.”
Pim came bustling over and grabbed Truman out of my arms to squeeze him in a big bear hug. “Christ, I thought they’d never let me over here to check on you. How are you? Okay? Did that good-for-nothing lay a hand on you?”
Bill caught up to his husband and put a hand on his shoulder. “He’s in good hands, hon.”
They tittered around him, making sure he was truly unharmed.
I watched as our friends gathered together in a giant group hug. A sassy-mouthed chef, a laid-back footballer, an overgrown goat with wild-ass hair, a jolly diner-owner slash coconspirator, a pair of lesbian knitters who looked more like sisters, a famous musician, his beautiful husband, and their oddball uncle, a stern-faced deputy whose watch face surprisingly had a tiny rainbow flag on it, and a beloved spice merchant with bruised knuckles.
And me. The man who’d finally found his heart and his true family in a small town in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.
Epilogue – Sheriff Stone, two months later
I shouldn’t even be here.
I glanced around at the party in full swing behind Rockley Lodge. Mikey had arranged a giant marquee tent that was strung with fairy lights and housed a scattering of round tables with votive candles and wildflowers in fat glass jars even. A wooden dance floor had been erected under one half of the tent, and a DJ was setting up on the small stage behind it.
Everyone had come to celebrate the successful release of Mikey’s cookbook, and they’d invited Aster Valley’s “new sheriff” to join in the festivities. I thought it was more likely they wanted Aster Valley’s gay sheriff there since the party seemed to be overrun by the town’s rainbow contingent. And, honestly, it made me feel welcome for the first time since moving here half a year ago.
I was certainly not in the market for a boyfriend, but I appreciated feeling welcome among such an interesting and caring group of men regardless. If there was one thing I definitely could use after my recent trouble back in California, it was a group of friends I could trust.
Tiller held up a champagne glass and wrapped his arm around Mikey’s shoulder. He and many of his guests were already happily tipsy, which made me grateful for the lodge’s many bedrooms and the hosts’ invitation for anyone and everyone to stay the night rather than getting back on the mountain roads in the dark.
“To my favorite chef in the whole wide world,” Tiller called out across the cluster of friends and family. He’d pulled Mikey up to the front edge of the stage to get everyone’s attention. “And New York Post bestselling author!”