Borrowing Trouble (22 page)

“Yep. As long as she keeps on top of her homework. We can sure use her assistance.”

“That'll help her with a scholarship, right?”

Sloane hadn't thought of it. “I suppose it might. It certainly can't hurt.” Maybe when the time came, Rhys would write her a letter of recommendation. “In the meantime, she has to keep her grades and attendance up. I know you and your mom have a lot on your plates, but she needs encouragement at home.”

“I try to do that.”

Sloane's mouth slid up. Perhaps she'd misjudged the guy. He really did seem to have Rose's best interests at heart. “Good.”

“I've gotta get back to the yard.” He turned to go, but stopped. “You're not like other cops, are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You actually give a shit.” He jogged down the steps and Sloane watched him go down the ravine behind the duplex and follow the train tracks back to town.

She started to go inside but Brady pulled up in his van. Uh-oh, her chicken. Sloane ran to the kitchen and opened the oven. Some of the juices had dripped to the bottom and had begun smoking. She pulled the pan out, wiped out the mess as best she could, and cranked up the heat to roast the vegetables.

“Smells good in here.” Brady came in still wearing his chef's pants and jacket.

“You have to go,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because timing all the food is crucial and I can't concentrate with you here. Go change, get comfortable, and come back at”—she looked at the clock—“six-oh-five.”

He chuckled. “You sure you don't want my help?”

“No. But I want it to be perfect and got distracted. So go.” She shooed him out, slid the baking sheet with the vegetables into the oven, put her pot for the couscous on to boil, and opened a bottle of wine to breathe.

With a slotted spoon, she arranged the chicken on a platter, found another serving dish for the vegetables and a bowl for the couscous. By the time Brady came back, everything was on the table, including a baguette she'd gotten at the Nugget Market. So it wasn't homemade. Baking bread was above her pay grade.

“Sit.” She swooshed her arm over the table.

“It looks amazing, Sloane.” He spied Skeeter's bouquet on the counter. “You want me to put those in water?”

“The food will get cold. I'll do it while you start eating.”

“Relax, sweetness.” He kissed her neck. “It's gonna be perfect.”

She found a vase, filled it, and stuck in the flowers. “Don't judge. This is my first real meal.”

He sat, placed the cloth napkin in his lap, and poured them each a glass of wine. Shoot, she should've done that.

“Chicken Marbella, huh?” he said with appreciation.

“You know it?”

“
Silver Palate Cookbook
. It's a classic.” He looked up from serving himself and must've seen her face drop. “Come on, it's one of my favorites. You want a breast?”

“Sure.” He put chicken, a scoop of couscous, and a helping of vegetables on her plate and lifted his fork to take a bite of his own.

She watched him swallow and take a few more bites. “Well?”

“You nailed it. Seriously, Sloane, it's fantastic.”

She leaned back in her chair and let out a breath. “Thank God.”

He looked highly amused. “It stressed you out that much?”

“Easy for you to be nonchalant, Chef Boyardee.” She leaned over the table. “How's the couscous?”

“Nice,” he said with his mouth full. “Not mushy, bright flavor, and the pine nuts were a smart touch—gives a little crunch.”

“My mom told me to add them.”

“You did good, baby.” He was dishing out a lot of endearments that he usually only used during sex. God, she liked him. Maybe more than liked him. “You do anything else on your day off besides cooking up a feast?”

“Skeeter Jones came over.” She nudged her head at the vase. “Brought me the flowers.”

“This is Rose's delinquent brother you told me about?” Brady continued to eat with gusto, which did Sloane's heart good.

“Yeah. Except now I'm starting to think he might be a good guy. Just rough around the edges. He wanted to thank me for helping his sister.”

The corner of his lips tugged up, his mouth full. “I bet he did.”

“It's not like that,” she said, nibbling on chicken, which she had to admit turned out good. “But it did freak me out that he'd called the Lumber Baron looking for me. When Andy told me about it, I assumed it was Roger Buck.”

Brady stopped eating. “When did this happen?”

“A few days ago.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” He sounded angry.

“You were busy with the rehearsal dinner . . . the wedding.”

“Walk me through it.”

“Not much to walk you through. Someone called the inn, said they'd heard I'd been staying there and wanted to get in touch with me. They didn't give Andy a name and he told the person he could reach me at the police department.”

“And Skeeter said it was him?”

She shrugged. “Skeeter said it may have been. That he'd been asking around to find out where I live. But he didn't remember specifically asking Andy.”

“I don't like this.” Brady pulled his cell out of his pocket.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling Andy.”

She pushed her plate out of the way, reached across the table, and put her hand on his arm. “You think you have better interrogation skills than I do? I was a homicide detective, for goodness' sake. That's all Andy knows. It had to have been Skeeter.”

“Andy said it was a man's voice?”

“Absolutely.” She knew exactly where his mind had headed. “Look, there isn't a boogeyman hiding around every corner. Sandra has been quiet for a while, and I haven't gotten any more threatening texts. Maybe it's over.”

He shook his head. “I'm not letting my guard down on either front. You tell Rhys?”

“There's nothing to tell him.”

“Bullshit. He could trace the call.” He filled his mouth with couscous.

She rolled her eyes. “If it's Buck or anyone else from LAPD, the call's untraceable. More than likely they used a burner or a random pay phone.”

He got to his feet, picked her up, carried her to the living room, and put her down on the couch. “You matter to me, Sloane.” He pinched the bridge of his nose like he wanted to say more but couldn't get the words out.

“You matter to me too, Brady.” Sloane knew if she said any more she'd scare him off. He was an easy read, flighty when it came to relationships, especially given his situation.

With a little time, though, she hoped to change all that.

“H
ey, Lina, I think I may have found a car for you . . . it's actually an SUV. When you get a chance, give me a call or just stop by the Gas and Go.” Griffin finished leaving his message and took the stairs down from his office to the convenience store.

Owen and a couple of other mafia guys sat in the garage around the space heater. He'd bought a few truck bench seats off eBay and turned it into a seating area for customers. But most days the old dudes camped out there to play pinochle and drink Griff's coffee.

“Where've you been?” Owen asked him, as if it was Griff 's sole responsibility to provide entertainment.

“Work. That's why they call it a job.”

“Bah!” Owen called. “Dink says that little jail-bait girlfriend of yours is having a birthday party.”

“She's not my girlfriend and I already know about her party. What of it?”

“You going?”

“I've got a conflict,” he lied, and tried to walk away.

“We took a vote and we think you should go.”

“I didn't realize my social calendar was under democratic rule.”

“We're all going,” Owen said.

“So? What does that have to do with me?”

“Brady is doing the food,” Dink, Nugget's illustrious mayor, said. “You don't want to miss that.”

“I can't . . . get out of the other thing. Why don't one of you guys bring home a doggie bag for me?” He went into the store, where Rico had been listening to the conversation through the pay window.

“Why do you lie to them, boss?”

“It's easier.” Griffin grabbed a hot dog off the steamer machine and loaded it up with onions, relish, and mustard.

“Better question: What's the big deal about going? It's not like you and Lina are fighting.”

“All her school friends will be there. I'll feel . . . I don't know.”

“Old?” Rico let out a loud belly laugh, and Griff gave him the finger. “Come on, boss. Half of Nugget will be there. I'm going. Harlee, Colin, Darla, and Wyatt are going. That little bitch Andy will probably be there.”

It had not gone beyond Griffin's notice that Andy was always checking out Lina's rack. Every time he'd been at the inn, the jerk's eyes had been all over her.

“We'll see,” he said, which was the universal code for “not happening.”

Griff took a bite of his dog and grabbed a soda from the cooler to wash it down. “What's going on with the Chevy?”

“It needs a new fan belt. I'm just waiting for Calhoun to give me the go-ahead.”

“Well, get it out of the bay until you hear from him.” Griffin motioned at three cars parked near the air pumps. “They all need oil changes.”

“Will do,” Rico said, and fiddled with his phone. “Hey, when is your open house at Sierra Heights? I want to put it on my calendar.”

“First Saturday in March.” Hopefully he'd sell a few goddamned houses.

“We've got the bowling party that night. You know that, right?”

“Yep.” Griffin gazed out the plate-glass window at an Outback that had just pulled in, threw the rest of his hot dog in the trash, grabbed a box of mints near the cash register, and poured a dozen in his mouth.

Lina got out of the car and Griffin headed for the door.

“Hey.” He waved at her, noting that it felt more like spring than winter. He'd left the house only needing a fleece pullover.

“You found a car for me?”

“Maybe.” He led her behind the store, where he parked whatever vehicle he was driving for the day. “What do you think?”

She squinted at the Lexus and walked closer to get a better look. “It's brand-new.”

“Nah, it's a few years old. The owner just took good care of it. You want to take it for a test drive?”

“Uh, yeah.” Her eyes sparkled. “But how much is it?”

“Four thousand. You may be able to whittle it down, though.”

“You know the owner?” she asked, reverently running her hand over the Lexus's silver finish.

“Yup. Good guy. Knows his cars.”

“Can I look inside?”

Griffin popped the locks with the fob. “Of course. Take it out on the highway, see if you like the ride.” He handed her the key.

“Leather seats,” she said with awe as he watched her climb in.

“It's got the full package: all-wheel drive, seat warmers, navigation system, upgraded sound system, the works.”

She looked at the odometer. “Not much mileage on it. Do you think they may have done the thing where they roll back the numbers to make it look better than what it really is?”

The corners of his mouth curved up. “I don't think so.”

“I'm scared to drive it, it's so nice.”

“Want me to come?” Now why had he offered that?

“Could you? I don't know where everything is.”

“No problem.” He got into the passenger seat and buckled up. “It's an automatic. You won't have a problem.”

She backed out and pulled onto Main Street. “I'll take it around the square and then to the highway.”

She drove like a granny, but Griff didn't say anything. Clearly she needed to get used to the vehicle.

“It's different than Maddy's Outback,” Lina said. “It's so smooth.”

Griff turned on the radio. A country station. “This making you nervous?”

“I'm okay.” She checked all the mirrors and adjusted the one on her side. Griffin thought she looked good in the SUV. Then again, she'd look good in a Vega hatchback.

She wiggled her butt in the seat, oblivious to what it was doing to him. “It's comfortable.”

They went around the square, took the road out of Nugget to the entrance of the highway.

“How about driving over fifty?” Griffin said.

“I will when I'm ready.” She shot him a look and he grinned.
Fiery thing
. “Four thousand, huh? It seems that a truck like this would be worth more.”

“That's what he's asking.” Griffin looked down at his boots.

“I've only got three thousand. I could probably borrow five hundred from my brother. But he and Maddy are paying to throw me a big party. I wouldn't feel right about asking for any more.”

Griff nodded in understanding. “See if the owner will take thirty-five hundred. Can't hurt to ask.”

“I'll have to talk to Rhys first. He'll probably want you to check the engine and all the other stuff a mechanic is supposed to look at before buying a car.”

“No problem.” Griff glanced over at the speedometer. And what do you know? She was doing sixty.

“I really love it, Griff. How did you find the car?”

“The guy came in for an oil change, said he'd just bought a hybrid and wanted to unload this one.”

She'd pulled over to the side of the road, hung a U-turn, and headed back to Nugget. “It seems like it would be super reliable.”

Anything would be more reliable than the Scout. Rhys had given him the go-ahead to junk it. “It'll definitely get you to Reno and back for a lot of years.”

“It's so luxurious.” She gazed at the dashboard with its gauges and screens.

“Lexus makes a nice vehicle.”

Feeling more comfortable in the driver's seat, Lina played with the windshield wipers, the heater, and the radio.

“How are plans for your party coming?” He didn't know why he asked. But idle conversation seemed like a better alternative than what he'd like to do.

“Brady has a great menu planned, and a lot of people are coming. My mom couldn't afford a
quinceañera
, so this is my first big birthday party.”

Griffin knew that a
quinceañera
was the equivalent of a sweet sixteen for fifteen-year-old Mexican girls, only fancier. They wore big poufy dresses that looked like wedding gowns, had attendants, and there was some kind of religious ceremony involved. Parties like that took a chunk of change to throw, and like Griff, Lina had grown up dirt-floor poor. Griff hadn't come into his wealth until he was twenty-five. Lina had lost her mother when she was seventeen. She and her brother, Samuel, had come to Nugget to live with their half-brother, Rhys, and their father, who'd died a short time later.

So this damned party was a big freaking deal.

“You're coming, right?” Lina turned into the Gas and Go, pulled the Lexus around back, turned off the engine, and pressed the emergency brake.

“I have another commitment,” he said, and couldn't look her in the eye. “But I'm gonna try.”

“Okay,” she said, like she couldn't care less. “I'll talk to Rhys and get back to you on the SUV as soon as possible. Are there a lot of people who want it?”

“You've got first dibs,” he said and hopped out of the cab.

She handed him the key. “I can't thank you enough, Griffin. I hope I get it.” Lina crossed her fingers and Griffin wanted to tell her that the Lexus was hers. Instead he kind of stared at her, slack-jawed. She was just that beautiful.

The next day, Rhys showed up at the Gas and Go wanting to see the Lexus. Griffin took him to where he'd parked it. He walked around the truck a few times, peeked in the windows and kicked the tires.

“What the hell are you trying to pull, Parks?” Griffin feigned innocence, but Rhys wasn't buying it. “This vehicle is worth five times four thousand bucks.”

More than that, but Griff didn't say anything.

Rhys waggled his hand for the keys, got inside the truck, slid the seat back, and took off.

Rico sidled up to Griffin. “What do you plan to tell him when he gets back?”

“Don't know yet.” Griff went inside the store and poured himself a cup of coffee.

A few customers filtered in and out. Griffin rang up their purchases. The kid he'd hired didn't come in until after school, leaving him and Rico to handle the cash register in the morning. He could really use another mechanic who could also help out in the store.

Rhys returned about a half hour later. Apparently he'd wanted to put the Lexus through its paces. He walked into the shop, dangling the key from his finger.

“You trying to give the car to my sister?”

“No, I'm trying to sell it to her for somewhere close to four thousand dollars.”

Rhys huffed out a breath. “You're giving it away, Griffin. Why?”

“You know why.” Griffin pretended to organize the maps on the counter.

“No. You need to explain it to me.”

“Because I love her. There, are you satisfied?”

“If you love her, do something about it. I'm sick of watching the two of you moon over each other. It gives me heartburn.”

Griff jerked his head up. Lina wasn't mooning over him anymore. “What about the age difference?”

Rhys shrugged. “She's a grown woman. I can't stop her from wanting an old man.”

He laid four thousand dollars cash on the counter. “I take it you've already gone over the Lexus with a fine-tooth comb?” Clearly, Rhys was being facetious.

Griff nodded.

“Good.” Rhys made his way to the door. “Tell her, Griffin.”

 

Brady was getting in deeper and deeper with Sloane. Every night he stayed at her place, telling himself it was for her safety. The woman was a cop, armed to the hilt, for God's sake. She could take care of herself.

But he liked being with her, talking with her, eating with her, and feeling her nestled next to him in bed. The sex was great, but the waking up together was even better.

And that's not the way it was supposed to be. Not for him, anyway. He didn't like roots, he didn't like commitments, and he especially didn't like embroiling a person he cared about in his personal hell.

Although Sandra had been oddly quiet these last few weeks, she was like a rattlesnake in the grass, coiled and ready to strike. Brady just never knew when. A few times, he'd considered flying to Los Angeles on a reconnaissance mission. But why tempt fate? He liked things quiet, even if it was only temporary.

As much as he knew it would be best to cool it with Sloane, he just couldn't do it. Running with her after work, having dinner in her kitchen, listening to her talk about her day . . . well, it had become an addiction. She'd become an addiction.

Here he was, preparing food for Lina's party tonight, doing what he loved, and he couldn't stop watching the clock. Waiting for the minute she'd walk in the room and rock his world. He'd never been in this position before, and frankly it scared the hell out of him. What happened when it all blew up?

“How's it going?” Sam danced into the kitchen. Maddy and Rhys were hosting the party, but there could be no mistaking who was orchestrating it. Sam, event planner extraordinaire.

“Piece of cake,” he said. “The pigs and cake have been done for days. I fried the chicken this morning and made the sliders. Just have to pop them under the broiler when the time comes. I'm working on the salads now. Slaw, potato, green, and macaroni. We're going retro, baby.”

“What's the big hunk of cheese for?” she asked, a big smile lighting her face.

“I decided, in addition to the potato chips and onion dip, to throw in a nacho bar, which reminds me, I've gotta make the
queso fun-dido
—Cecilia's recipe.”

“They'll be back in time from their honeymoon, right?”

“Yep. No one is missing this party.”

“It's gonna be pretty great. You should see what Nate and I got her.” She could barely contain her excitement.