1
Beau
This wasthe last place I wanted to be. Not because I didn’t like coffee—of course I did, I was acop—or because I didn’t like the pastries here—again, see my first reason. But I was waiting for a reporter who wanted to talk about my upcoming run for Sheriff.
I’d run unopposed for the last seven years, but suddenly I had competition. I still didn’t know who, but they would be announcing it tonight. I guess the local rag wanted to get to know both of us before the fierceness of competition got to us.
Except, I had no plans to be competitive.
I wanted the job on merit.
Her Michael Kors bag landed on top of the table as she pulled the chair out for herself and flashed me a big grin. “Sheriff Beau Butler?”
“What gave me away?” I was wearing my brown sheriff’s uniform; I stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the few patrons around me. She laughed, though, unflappable.Good to know.
“Thanks for meeting me.” She snapped open her purse, her slender hand reaching inside, and she pulled out her phone.
I nodded. “Sure.”
She scrolled through the phone, closing and opening apps with abandon before finally settling on one.
“Where are you from again?” I asked.
“Pleasant Lake Press.” She stopped what she was doing and smiled at me again, looking almost pained. Was this kind of story her thing, or had she been forced to be here?
“Right, sorry.” I shook my head, straightening out. “I don’t normally do this kind of thing.”
She shot me a smile, setting both hands on the table in surrender. “Me, neither, but we’ll get through this together.” I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Now I wanted to know why she was here.
“Alright, where do we start?”
She glanced at her phone as if checking notes and then looked back at me. “You joined the force less than ten years ago and made sheriff within three. That’s an unusual timeline.”
I lifted my coffee mug to my lips and took another sip, my eyebrow lifting slightly before I settled my features again. “Is it? Why?”
“Well, you joined the force at twenty-six. Most guys who want to become cops do so right out of high school. It took you almost eight years to pick a career. Was there something else you were doing?”
“My parents owned a flower farm. I was working there with my brothers, helping keep it afloat.”
“Right, your family—who is affluent in this area—are also well-known throughout the town. I believe they’re sponsors for the Arts Council, and there’s a wing named after you at the Pleasant Lake hospital?”
A knot turned in my stomach, alarm bells ringing in the back of my mind.
“Uh, yeah, I guess they are. My great-grandparents settled the area amongst some of the other families still here. But I’m not sure what my family’s interests have to do with me choosing to be a cop.”
She leaned forward, nudging her phone toward me with her arm as she did. “Did you choose to become a deputy knowing that with your family’s money and popularity, you could become sheriff in a relatively short time?”
“Erm—” I looked around slowly, wondering what the hell was going on. “Sheriff Callaghan, the sheriff before me, had a heart attack, and his wife pressured him into early retirement. If he hadn’t, I’m positive he would still be sheriff right now.”
“Or—would you have run against him and used your money and those family donations you’re so well-known for to spin the vote in your favor?”
Her eyes gleamed like she had found a dark, dirty secret. The way her mouth curled almost conspiratorially rubbed me the wrong way.
“No. What the hell? Whether someone else in my family donates to a cause of their choice has no bearing on me or my career. I became a deputy because I wanted to help people. I wanted to save people, and I wanted to keep this town I love safe.”
“You didn’t keep Elle safe.”
Someone must have dumped a bucket of ice water over me because every hair on my body stood on end, and goosebumps rose while my stomach contracted into a tight knot.