“I hoped we were past that.”
A pang of regret separated itself from the pack of emotions, stronger and deeper than expected, overriding that first rush of fear. They were slightly, although not completely, beyond it, and never would be, so there was no point in wishing for more. McCall aside, she wasn’t about to subject him to her family. He had no idea what they were like. Since they wouldn’t hesitate to ask him for money, it was best not to give them the chance. Her brother’s contempt for the law wouldn’t help Dan’s career, either. He liked being sheriff or he wouldn’t be planning to seek reelection.
“How far past that could we possibly get when I was only ever supposed to be here until October?”
Dan was quiet for far too long. Then, “I see,” he said.
The disappointment on his face cut her heart. She hated that she’d put that look there, but it was definitely for the best that he understood she couldn’t stay. How ironic was it, however, that her mother had spent her entire adult life in search of a man with money who’d stick around, and now that her daughter had found one who showed potential for being a keeper, she was the major reason why a real relationship between them would never gain any traction?
“No, you don’t see,” she said, and tried to explain. “You date women for short periods of time because you’re looking to replace Andy, but so far you haven’t found anyone who can. You’ll be tired of me, too, in a few weeks, and then where will I be? Looking for a new job in a limited field? Do you have any idea how few positions for base managers there are, especially for women?”
“I don’t even know how to begin to unwrap all of that.” Dan lounged against his desk, his hands gripping the lip. “Let’s start with Andy. Do you want me to tell you about her? Is she really all that important?”
“Yes, because she’s important to you.”
“She was.” His jaw worked. “But as far as she was concerned, we were fuck buddies. That’s it. She was a sharpshooter in the army and would look me up between deployments. Last year, she was killed in action.”
Andy was dead. That explained why he’d claimed he no longer loved her.
Jazz’s heart beat too fast and too hard. It pulsed in her ears. “Is there something about me that reminds you of her?” she asked quietly, and the guilty look in his eyes said it all, because of course there was. She was a firefighter. A smokejumper. She had a mild adrenaline addiction—the same as Andy, the sharpshooter, undoubtedly had. She’d set herself up to become his new fuck buddy, too.
“I’m not a booty call, Sheriff.”
But yes.
Yes, she was.
She’d been so focused on his money that she’d dismissed the far deeper issue. She’d certainly misread his level of interest in her, and it stung.
The rain no longer pounded on the roof, so it should be safe enough for her to drive her bike back to the base. If not, she’d wait it out in the café and grab that coffee she so desperately needed. She searched for her purse. It peered out at her from under the table and she scooped it up.
“Hang on a second. You’ve made quite a few assumptions based on things other people told you, not me, and I never pegged you as a woman who listens to gossip,” he said. “Yes, I like blond, leggy women. So does the entire male population of Grand, including my granddad. But I do not, under any circumstances, want to replace Andy. To a small-town boy, she was exciting. She was also exhausting, unpredictable, and more than a little unstable. I wondered about you at first, but other than the blond hair and long legs, you’re nothing like her. I made damn sure of that before I took you skinny-dipping.”
Deep down, Jazz wanted very much to believe him. However, she couldn’t get past the nagging belief that good things never lasted. Not in her life, at least, and she found she couldn’t do it—she couldn’t become attached to him, only to have him grow bored and move on. Or, even worse, have one of her family members ask him for money, because then she’d have to kill them, and that would be awkward for him, since he was the sheriff.
“You’re in luck,” she said. “There are probably hundreds, if not thousands, of long-legged blonds in Montana who are nothing like her.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s not my point. They’d be nothing like you, either. I’m—”
This time, it was the shrill peal of his cell phone that interrupted.
*
The door closedbehind Jazz before his phone even stopped ringing.
Dan would have ignored it—letting Jazz walk away without setting things right meant he might not get another opportunity—except his deputies only ever called his cell in an emergency.
He frowned at the door. She wasn’t exhausting—far from it—but it didn’t take a therapist to see how her mood had changed the second her mother called. “Get pregnant and you won’t have to find out.”
What a role model. And yet Jazz had risen above it.
“What’s up?” Dan growled into his phone, unable to rein in his frustration at the poorly timed interruption. The number belonged to Terry, his rookie.
“Chauncey O’Dell.”
“Again, already?” This wasn’t good. He began buttoning his shirt with one hand. Last time, Chauncey had waved a .223 caliber rifle at Terry, the new guy, and now Terry was skittish, so Dan had said he’d take the next call.
Every town had its mean drunk, and Chauncey was Grand’s. Overall, he wasn’t a bad guy. Then he’d have that one drink too many, take a swing at his wife, and one of the kids would call the sheriff’s department to come sort it out. If Elaine would only press charges things would be simpler, but Dan was reluctant to override her and make a bad situation worse. She was the one who had to live with him. She might change her mind if Chauncey started going after the kids.