“I’ll have you know Crescent Cove is known the state over. At this rate, we’ll be known throughout the world.”
I pulled out my license and gave it to him. “For what? Obnoxious floats?”
His jaw clicked as he studied my license. “Small-town charm and…”
“And what?”
“Procreation,” he said in such a low voice I almost didn’t hear him.
I didn’t have time to ponder that inexplicable statement because a tow truck pulled up beside my car. A tall, bearded man in a baseball cap hopped down and flashed me a friendly smile that indicated he was not Gage Kramer and possible not even from this “quaint” Cove at all. “Hey there, I’m Dare Kramer. You are?”
“Callum MacGregor,” I said as we shook hands. “Thanks for coming out so fast.”
“In this weather, I figured you didn’t want to be standing around. Hi, Brooks. How’s that baby of yours?”
Brooks narrowed his eyes and said nothing. He was a charmer, this one.
Dare didn’t seem deterred. “Caught the short straw today, huh?” He clapped the sheriff on the back. “Last I saw, Christian was on patrol.”
“He’s out too. All kinds of yahoos around tonight with the festival, and some of them can’t stay on the road.” With a narrowed-eyed stare for me, the sheriff returned my license. “I should give you a Breathalyzer.”
I shrugged and put it away. “Do what you wish. It’d be a waste of your time, as I haven’t had a drink since, at best guess, June sixteenth.”
The night Hudson, my youngest brother—by seven and five minutes respectively from the other two triplets—had celebrated getting his degree in graphic design. He was considered the free-spirited one among my brothers, other than my own edgy sideline in drawing and painting.
Drawing and painting itself wasn’t edgy, ignoring the whole starving artist thing. And I definitely was not starving after some of my recent commissions. But my choice of subject occasionally skirted the line for some.
Or unskirted, depending on my
subject’s state of undress.
Unusual faces and locations captured the bulk of my attention, so those were what I painted most often. It just seemed more notable the few times I’d painted a woman’s form in a more natural way.
Well, notable to my family. The public at large didn’t know who I was. I did my work, cashed my checks, and enjoyed my anonymity.
“We’ll skip the Breathalyzer for now,” the sheriff said, although he didn’t seem happy about it.
Dare rubbed his gloved fingers over his bearded jaw. “She’s a beaut. Shame she got scuffed up, but we’ll get her in and out quick for you, with the holidays and all.”
“Oh, thanks. I really appreciate that.”
“Our shop does custom work. We’ll fix her up so she looks better than brand new. Later on, how do you feel about racing stripes? My brother and Tish and their team do some damn fine work.”
“Hmm. That might be an idea.” Since I hadn’t gotten off on the best foot with his brother, I’d probably end up with a middle finger painted on the fender, but why not give it a shot? “I’d like custom rims too.”
“They’d look sweet with a ride like this. Tell you what, I’ll bring it in and see what Gage and Tish think before we write you up a quote. We’ll set you up with an appointment for the custom work in the new year. Or we can—” Dare broke off as yet another ginormous float went by, this one consisting of a huge gazebo decorated with Christmas lights. A sign proclaimed it courtesy of August and Kinleigh’s Attic.
A flurry of honks went off as the driver moved into the opposite lane to pass our collection of vehicles on the side of the road, much to the sheriff’s consternation.
“We need to get this car out of here. Talk at the shop. You keep it moving once your vehicle is ready.” The sheriff pointed at me. “I don’t want to hear about you causing another ruckus in town.”
“I wasn’t aware I’d caused a ruckus to begin with, but I’ll take it under advisement.” By this point, I couldn’t do much other than shake my head.
At least I’d get an even more tricked out vehicle come the new year, even if it was at considerable cost. I could afford it. My account was nicely padded, and my agent thought a few more pieces would sell soon.
If I ever made it out of small town, USA. Hopefully, without a ticket. I wasn’t even sure for what.
Sheriff Brooks would think of something.